19. The Eye of the Storm

A/N: This took me a long time to write. Partly because it has some stuff in it I just wanted to skip past, and partly because life is just a bitch sometimes.

Warning: Angst alert.

"You're... sure you want to do this?" Tink asked, for what Emma was pretty sure was the tenth time in the last hour.

Again it was Killian who responded, with a weary wave of his hand. "Aye, love. We're sure. How long until she gets the papers?"

Tink frowned, consulting her smartphone. "Assuming my guy can get to her, as early as today. Though it might help if you give him somewhere to start looking..."

Emma reached over and grabbed a pen and yellow legal pad off the desk, leaning over to scribble something down. "Here," she said, tearing off the page and sliding it over to her.

"Sebastian's? The Italian place over by the marina?" Tink turned to face Killian, one eyebrow raised. "Didn't you take me there for our anniversary one year?"

Killian grumbled something indistinctly then, his gaze fixed deliberately to the carpet, ears already turning pink.

"It's been in her boyfriend's family for generations," Emma cut in, saving him from the smaller woman's scrutiny. "A legitimate family business, doubling as a laundromat for all that dirty Cosa Nostra money. It's also seems to be the base of their operations, if the amount of times the FBI have tried and failed to get wiretaps on the place is any indication."

It was Emma that Tink turned to next, her eyes narrowing. "And how do you know that?"

Emma shrugged casually. "I made a few calls in the car on the way over."

"That Detective Guy?" She asked with more interest, leaning forward slightly. "The one whose heart you ripped out?"

Emma opened her mouth to make a haughty reply, but the phone on Tink's desk began to trill, and the smaller woman swooped on it, effectively ending the interrogation.

Now it was Emma's turn to fix Killian with an exasperated look. "Seriously?" she hissed. "Do you guys talk about all the stupid shit I do?"

He straightened then from where he was leaning on a file cabinet and took a few steps forward, wrapping an arm around her waist, bringing Emma in close. "Of course not, Swan," he whispered in her ear, leaning over to place a small, consolatory kiss on her cheek. "Just the highlights." She could feel his smile against her skin as he kissed her again, this time at the juncture of her throat, causing her brain to short-circuit a little, and forget she was ever going to elbow him in the kidneys.

Mostly.

At the sound of a throat clearing, Emma froze, temporarily forgetting they had an audience. But instead of stepping away, Killian's grip tightened, and she buried her head into the crook of his shoulder, letting her hair obscure most of her burning cheeks from Tink's gaze.

"Not that this isn't adorable," Tink said, waving her hand between the two of them. "And god knows, I ship it. But if you could keep it in your pants long enough to sign on the dotted line..." she trailed off, holding a fancy pen out to Killian, "That would be great. I have actual paying clients on their way up."

"You'll be sure to call as soon as she's served?" Killian asked, stepping away from Emma to take hold of the pen.

"Of course. But are you still not going to tell me why the timing matters so much to you?"

There was a pregnant pause whilst Killian signed the papers before him with a flourish, holding out the pen for Tink to take. But she didn't take it, not at first. She was too busy staring him down, arms crossed over her chest.

He seemed to visibly shrink a little under the weight of her scrutiny. "It's best if you don't know, love."

"Oh yeah, that's reassuring," she snarked, taking the pen from his grasp in a none-too-gentle move.

"It'll be fine."

"It better be," Tink huffed. "Or I'll kill you myself."

His lips quirked into a smile then. "Are you worried about me, lass?"

Instead of denying that charge, Tink just gathered the coat he'd left draped over one of the visitor's chairs and threw it in his direction. "Get out. Both of you. I'll call you when I know more."

Emma, who'd been watching this exchange closely, stepped forward to retrieve her own jacket, taking a moment to meet Tink's eye. "Thank you for doing this. Really."

A small grumble from the lawyer. "Just don't let him do anything stupid, okay?"

Emma turned back to see Killian waiting for her by the door, tapping his foot impatiently. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I'll do my best."

"You could have just told her, you know." Emma ventured, once they'd finally returned to the apartment. It looked no worse for being abandoned, though there was a unpleasant funk emanating from the refrigerator as Emma searched fruitlessly for something to eat that wasn't past it's expiration date. Killian, in turn, was knelt on the rug beside his excitable canine companion, who had greeted him back with all the enthusiasm of a long lost lover returned from the war.

"Swan..." He sighed.

"I mean, she is a lawyer," Emma said, pulling two beers out of the vegetable crisper in defeat, and closing the refrigerator. "She's not exactly going to shoot her mouth off. And she cares about you. That much is obvious."

Killian's eyes narrowed, even as his fingers scratched Smee's belly. "If this is you working up to asking me if I still have feelings for Tink-"

"I'm not," Emma cut in, taking a seat on the rug beside him, placing a bottle of beer next to him. "This isn't about me being threatened by Tink. I like that you have people around you who care about you. Hell, she's probably been there for you more than I have lately, all things considered," she muttered between sips. "All I've done is bring more drama into your life."

Killian snorted, as if in disbelief. "You know that's not true."

"Really?" Emma pushed. "What with me sponging off you these last few months? Getting into fist-fights with clients? Having an idiot for a brother?" Running away when things get too much. She didn't say the last bit, but she still felt the unsaid words trapped in the air between them.

"If it weren't for you, the business would have gone under months ago. You saved it," he reminded her.

"I'd hardly call placing a few ads and setting up a website an act of heroism," Emma mumbled, taking another swig from her bottle. "The fact is, I'm not sure... I've been good for you."

"Good for me?" He repeated, dumbfounded. "Emma?" He leaned forward slowly, gently prying the beer bottle from her hands and placing it down on the coffee table, eyes returning to search her face carefully for clues. "Where's this coming from?" he asked gently.

He reached for her hand, but Emma shrugged it off. The truth was, she didn't want his comfort for this part. She didn't deserve it. If Killian thought this was coming out of left field, that was on her. She should have been honest with him from the start. She definitely shouldn't have let herself get carried away, thinking that just because being with him was easy, that it was the right thing.

It had taken watching his interactions with Tink to remind her. It had taken watching the way Tink fussed and worried over him. Not because Emma was jealous. Sure, it wasn't ideal that Killian and his ex were so close, but she couldn't, wouldn't begrudge him that. It was more that Tink was right to worry.

Their plan was far from solid, and she knew the only reason he was even considering it was because of her. August would have probably been halfway to Utah on a Greyhound by now, if Killian had had his way. But he also knew Emma. He knew she wouldn't be willingly separated from her brother without a fight. So he'd come up with another plan. A far riskier one. And for what? Just to make Emma happy?

"I'm not saying I regret... whatever this is," she said, her hand tracing back and forth between them. "It's not that I don't care about you." Her eyes flicked back up to his. "I do care about you. But you were also right before, what you said about this being bad timing."

"Are you worried that the plan won't work?" He asked, clearly confused at the sudden about-face. "Darling, if that's your concern-"

"I didn't go down the fire escape because I was freaking out about having slept with you!" Emma shouted suddenly, her words overriding his. "I mean," she amended, her tone a little less urgent, "I was freaking out, because that's just what I do. But that isn't the reason I ran."

He blinked, absorbing that. "Okay... So why did you?"

Emma took a moment. Just a moment, to enjoy her last bit of ignorance, hugging her knees to her chest.

"I thought you might still be in love with Milah."

The words flew from her lips like a volley of arrows, and if Killian's response was any indication, then they'd hit their mark. His hand hovering near her arm was gone in an instant, as he withdrew into himself. And the look on his face? It damn near finished her off. Those shining blue eyes, usually striking just the right balance between warm and teasing, now reflected back hurt. A veritable fuck-load of hurt.

"Emma-"

"Am I wrong?"

The pause was too long for an outright denial. Not that she expected one, but she still felt the knot form in her throat all the same.

"I'm not an idiot, Killian. I do occasionally pick up on things. Like how crabby you get when certain cases strike a little too close to home? Or that time you came home reeking of smoke and gasoline?"

"You need to understand, Milah was..." He swallowed thickly. "Milah's a wound. She's a wound that won't stop fucking bleeding, but that's all she is."

"And you're not over her," Emma finished for him.

"It's really not that simple, love."

"Are you sure? Because I'm starting to wonder if maybe the reason we got so close, so fast, is because she left this gaping hole in your life, and I came along and filled it."

Killian's eyes widened. "You think you're a rebound?" he spluttered.

Emma searched carefully for her next words. "I'm not saying you did anything wrong. If anything, I'm the one who started things. I'm saying... maybe we should slow things down, until you're sure?" Maybe get him to re-examine his priorities.

"Bloody hell, Swan. This isn't some kind of Psych 101 transference rubbish. I didn't fall for you because you just so happened to be the next woman to show up in my bloody flat!" He was getting angry now. The earlier disbelief giving way to something rawer. Something darker. Something which spurred Emma's knee-jerk reaction.

"No? Then tell me about the bassinet. The one in my closet?"

She might as well have sucker punched him, the way his eyes glazed over entirely, the way the color drained from his face. She hadn't meant to say it. Not really. It had just… slipped out. Tripping people up with the tricky questions was kind of her thing. Had been her thing. And sometimes she forgot to turn it off. If she even knew how to turn it off.

Without warning, he leaned forward and brought one hand to the back of Emma's neck, claiming her lips with his own. It wasn't like any kiss they'd shared before. Not lustful, or sweet. It certainly wasn't sweet. The intensity of it was startling, because for once, he wasn't holding back a thing. She could feel it all. Every bit of pain and anger and frustration. Every bit of disappointment and sorrow. His attentions were bruising, leaving her little choice but to grasp onto his shoulders for support, to ride out the storm. Because that's what it was really. Not a kiss so much as a tempest, and he aimed to drown himself.

Their sudden movements had startled Smee, sending him into another round of hysterical yips. It was enough to bring Emma back from the brink, back to the reality of the situation. She pulled away then, leveraging herself against his shoulders until they broke apart. His lips chased hers, wanting more, but she put a hand on his chest, holding him at bay.

"Killian," she said, a little out of breath. He glanced at her, but the look is his eyes was off. "Hey," she tried again, firmer this time, one hand coming up to trace the contour of his cheek. "You with me, Jones?"

He seemed to come back to himself then with a sudden self-awareness, springing backwards as if he'd been burned, letting out a litany of curses.

"I'm sorry, Emma. I shouldn't have-." He buried his face in his palms. "Christ, I'm sorry." The look he shot her was distraught, like self-flagellation would be taking place any moment.

"Hey, it's alright," Emma said, holding her hands up to show that everything was fine. "It's okay."

"It's not bloody okay, Emma!" He shouted, his words reverberating between them loud enough to send Smee darting under the couch to hide. He didn't much resemble the man that she knew in that moment. Pupils still blown back, his chest heaving, cheeks flushed red. Normally Emma might appreciate that kind of view, the sight of the man so wrecked. But not like this. It wasn't the same.

"Hey," she repeated in that same soothing tone, scooting closer. "C'mere," she said, keeping her voice low and level, holding out a hand to him.

He didn't move at first, merely glanced at her outstretched hand and looked away, like he didn't have a right to look at it.

"Killian Jones, get your ass over here!" He responded to that at least, swivelling around to face her properly again.

"Emma, I-" But Emma didn't let him finish this time, reaching down to grasp his hand in hers and pulling him forward into a hug.

She had kind of tricked him into it, but once he relaxed into her arms, she knew she'd done the right thing. She rested her head on his shoulder, content to let him stay like that for as long as he needed.

"Are you going to leave?" he mumbled into the fabric of her shirt.

"Do you want me to leave?" Emma asked, pulling back a little to gauge his expression.

"No." And whatever else, he meant it.

She squeezed her arms tighter around him. "Then, I won't."

Emma wasn't sure how long they stayed like that. Long enough for some serious muscle cramp to set in. Getting up to switch on the coffee pot had been rather on the painful side, as she limped her way into the kitchen. Her discomfort was so that she hadn't noticed Killian leaving his spot by the couch until she heard the tell-tale scrape of something heavy dragged across linoleum.

"Killian?" she asked. "What the hell?"

And then he rounded the corner, dragging the box along with him. The same box Emma hadn't seen since before her trip down the fire escape.

"You wanted to know, right?" Killian asked, standing upright, a little breathless.

"I..." Emma began, momentarily stunned. "I mean, if you want to tell me, yeah." She glanced around, searching for somewhere to have that particular discussion. "Should we sit?" She asked, motioning to the small dining set.

But Killian just shook his head, motioning at the box with his chin.

"I bought it for my son."

Emma had suspected as much. But suspecting wasn't the same as knowing. It might as well as been a punch in the throat, because she couldn't get any words out. Not that it mattered, since Killian, evidently having decided on the Band-Aid approach to this confessional, barrelled on.

"I bought it for who I thought was my son. It later transpired that wasn't the case. Milah was pregnant, see?" When he looked up, Emma could see the tears shining in his eyes, threatening to fall.

"We'd argued about it a fair bit. Starting a family. She was older than me, I thought maybe it would be better if we didn't wait. Before the choice was taken out of our hands. But she didn't agree. Jones Investigations was barely breaking even. Her job at the gallery wasn't all that certain. She wanted to wait until we were more settled. Until we were more secure. She got me the bloody dog to distract me from the idea, I think. We fought about it a lot, come to think of it. Money. Bills. Stupid things like that."

Emma took a step forward, intending to catch his hand in hers but he pulled away a little, folding his arms over his chest. The look he shot her was almost pleading, willing her to understand. With a nod, she stepped back, letting him continue.

"So when she did fall pregnant, it was a bit of a shock. We hadn't been doing that well, really. There were a couple of weeks when she'd gone to stay with friends, because we just couldn't seem to agree on anything. I thought that... I thought that the baby meant an end to all that. I thought we were finally on the same page."

A stray tear streaked down one cheek, and Killian turned away slightly, the heel of his hand brushing away the evidence. "I was excited. Terrified too, but mostly excited. It was very early in, but I was already making plans. I went down to Target and got way too many things. I even painted the bloody nursery. I was sure it was going to be a boy. Absolutely certain of it."

"It was a boy, it turned out. I found the birth announcement in the paper a few months ago. So I was right. Just not about it being mine."

Emma bit her lip, to prevent a sob of her own from escaping, her heart breaking for him. She knew things had been ugly. She'd pictured a few awful scenarios. But this? This was painful beyond belief.

"Turns out she hadn't been staying with friends, so much as with her ex-husband. Fairly wealthy fellow. Old money, you know? By all accounts, their marriage hadn't been the greatest. After all, she'd left him for me in the first place. Did August ever tell you that?" he asked suddenly, losing his train of thought. August had mentioned it, actually. A juicy piece of gossip shared over one too many beers at the Rabbit Hole. It didn't seem so entertaining now. "Anyway, I suppose that when we started having all our fights about money, the grass seemed a little greener with him. I don't think she intended to leave me for good. After all, she came back. Just like I don't think she meant to get pregnant by him."

"She knew he wasn't mine. Managed to count back the days. I had no idea, living in my little bubble of happiness. She did tell me, eventually. Came home to find her crying her eyes out on the couch with Smee. Said she couldn't lie to me anymore. You know I wasn't even angry?" he said, with a measure of disbelief. "Not really. I told her it didn't matter, that I'd raise him anyway. He'd still be ours."

"She left the next day, while I was at work. Took all her stuff in the middle of the day. Left me a note. She'd gone back to him. Her ex-husband. Said he deserved the chance to be a proper father. That he would take care of them." His voice cracked then, and Emma wasn't sure if he would keep it together much longer. "God, I'd never felt so useless in my entire fucking life."

Emma couldn't contain herself any longer than that, taking those precious steps forward to wrap him in her arms. He didn't pull away this time, hugging her back fiercely, until she seemed certain he could stand on his own two feet.

"Thank you," she said. "For telling me."

"I would have rathered you stayed in blissful ignorance," he remarked dryly, rubbing at his face again. "But that's the thing about you reporter types. Always so goddamn relentless." He was trying for levity, but he didn't quite get there.

"I meant what I said, about slowing down," Emma began, gently. "I think it's a good idea. At least until the wounds aren't so fresh."

He didn't argue this time, just nodded solemnly. "Alright. If that's what you want."

"It is," Emma said, firmly.

"I'm still mad about you, though," he added, with a touch of cheek. "Just, so you know."

Emma smiled despite herself. "Good."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but was drowned out by the sounds emanating from his cell phone as it buzzed in his jeans pocket.

"I Fought The Law?" Emma asked with raised brows, as he drew it out. "Really?"

He just winked, and took the call.

"You've news for me, lass?"