Chapter Four: Goodbye to the Past
The next day dawns grey with drizzling rain on the horizon for the foreseeable future, yet Emma feels better upon opening her eyes than she has since her whole ordeal began. She slept like a rock for nearly ten hours, too drained and weary to dream the nightmares she had feared would come. Sitting up in bed, she looks around slowly, blinking the sleep from her eyes and gathering her bearings.
Agent Lucas sits in a chair by the window, nursing a coffee and half-watching news on the room's television. The brunette quirks an eyebrow at Emma curiously once she sees that her charge is awake, then wishes her a good morning. "There's coffee in the bathroom where that little complimentary brewer sits," she offers helpfully.
"Thanks," Emma nods, standing and shuffling in that direction, grateful for at least one small bit of familiar routine. Henry is happily coloring on the floor with a wide array of crayons, markers, and several shades of blank paper that she knows Ruby must have found for him somewhere. She ruffles her boy's hair lovingly as she passes, and when he smiles up at her adoringly, she bends to kiss his forehead and cuddle him close in a hug.
"Morning Mama," Henry greets, chipper and wide awake, probably both from the large amount of rest he got the day before and the excitement of what must seem to him like a big, new adventure. 'Look!" he continues, holding up the page he's currently working on proudly. "I'm coloring this for Papa Graham, since he couldn't come with us and see everything. Can we send it to him when I'm done?"
Emma sucks in a sharp breath, the innocent request catching her off guard and piercing her chest anew. She has to stop reacting so harshly whenever Henry mentions the man who had always been a father to him. They are never going to see Graham again; she has to accept and deal with that herself, so she can find a way to tell Henry and help him grieve as well. For the moment, however, she merely releases the breath she's taken, calming herself and nodding. Not perfectly answering the question, Emma instead forces brightness into her voice to tell her son something that is true. "That's a gorgeous picture, kiddo. It's the trees and the sunrise and the water here, right?" Henry nods enthusiastically, his smile growing at her recognition of what he's drawn, and Emma continues. "Papa would love to see it."
The words are hard to force out without a quaver or tears, but she manages it because Henry seems untroubled as he returns to his drawing once more. Taking a seat at the foot of the bed next to Ruby's chair, Emma cradles the cheap, disposable cup of coffee in her hands like treasure, savoring the warmth against her palms and its strong flavor on her tongue before meeting the other woman's eyes over the rim.
"Did you sleep well?" the agent asked, clearly curious to know how Emma is holding up in other ways, but not pushing.
"Better than I expected," Emma allows wryly, appreciating her protector's tact, but feeling as if she could talk to this person – and might need to in order to purge the loss and confusion swirling within.
"Well, I'm glad for that," Ruby offers sincerely. "These next few days may still be tough, so I'm glad you got some rest, if nothing else."
"What do you mean, tough?" Emma questions, brow furrowing and thinking that she better get going on her coffee – she is obviously going to need more.
"Killian went out to get several of the things we'll need. Maybe it's better if I wait until…" Ruby trails off as Emma shakes her head in disagreement.
"Please just tell me and get it over with," Emma sighs, resigned and wanting to prepare herself.
"Okay," Ruby agrees, squaring her shoulders with a sigh. "Here goes… When people officially enter the Witness Protection Program, it's essentially like they are reborn as entirely different individuals. You and Henry will have new names, birthdates, Social Security numbers, ids, the works. All ties to previous homes, friends, family, jobs – all of those – must be severed completely so that the people coming after you can't track you through any of those old connections."
Emma nods her head encouragingly, remembering some of this from the night before and urging Ruby to go on and get it all out in the open.
"Beyond those standard precautions though, it's also much safer to make changes in appearance, so that you're both less recognizable."
"I understand," Emma answers, swallowing harder at the thought of her beloved little boy, all the family she has in the world, no longer looking like himself than any change she will have to make herself. "That makes sense."
"We won't change Henry's hair color or have him wear different colored contacts. He's so little," Ruby comforts. "Besides, a brown-haired, brown-eyed little boy is pretty normal. He won't stick out. We'll probably want to change his haircut mostly – nothing too drastic for him."
Emma merely nods.
"But, Emma, that mane of hair you've got is like a beacon. It's so long and noticeable; it's distinguishing, and you can't risk drawing attention. You'll have to change both the color and length. You may have to wear glasses, definitely go for muted colors. Maybe try to soften your look some – more feminine, flowing dresses – things that those who knew you at the Kingdom won't associate with your style."
It seems sensible enough to Emma, though she hates to think of hacking off her hair or changing its natural color. She is not a vain person, or overly concerned with her looks – until Graham came along, she had never felt particularly beautiful or had anyone tell her so – but she has always been fond of her hair. It is the one thing about herself that isn't easy to ignore, isn't forgettable. Still, she'll do it to help keep her little boy safe, without hesitation.
Ruby seems to have been expecting an eruption of some sort, and so when she gets nothing but mute agreement, she leans nearer, studying Emma closely.
"Are you okay?" she asks, dark eyes shifting to check on Henry, still coloring near them, to make sure he is safely preoccupied. "I know we've uprooted you, told you what to do, and asked a lot of you in a short amount of time, but I do want you to know that you can share or vent …in confidence. We may be in each other's lives for some time; I can't see why we shouldn't be friends, instead of just witness and agent…"
Again, the other woman doesn't push her, and Emma is immensely grateful. She draws in a shaky breath, and meets Ruby's searching gaze. The offer of a girl friend feels good; she's never had many, and if she had ever needed one, it's now. Too many things are clamoring inside her to keep them all contained, and so she doesn't have much to lose by trusting Agent Lucas completely. Wetting her lips, Emma finds the courage to start somewhere and begins to speak; leading with what comes to her first, hoping as she lets some of her secrets spill, that she will free herself from them. "Graham – the man I lived with in Vegas, the CI I saw murdered – wasn't Henry's father by blood. I met Henry's father in Oregon, not long after I fled the foster system. We were both runaways, pretty much surviving on what we could steal. We decided to join forces and help each other. We were basically living in an old Volkswagen he had lifted and gotten legit plates for. It sounds crazy, but I was as close to him as I'd ever been to anyone. I never had any family until him…and he – he almost became that for me. I believed we were going to make a home together. Then, suddenly I found myself in jail, serving time for something I did for him, and carrying his baby. I didn't know what to do. A smart person would have given Henry up for adoption…but I…I just couldn't. I knew what I had been through in the system, and I didn't want that for him. And – and …I needed him…maybe more than he needed me. With him, I finally had someone who wouldn't leave, who would love me back. I didn't meet Graham until I got the job at the Kingdom. Henry was nearly two by then, but he latched on right away, and Graham was so good to him – to both of us…"
Now that Emma has started talking, she finds that she doesn't want to stop. Ruby doesn't seem to mind, and so she keeps going, releasing the entire sordid life story she has clutched close to her chest for so long. She keeps checking on her son, making sure that he is okay and doesn't seem to be paying them any attention. He hums to himself as he finishes his drawing, then crawls up onto the other bed with his books, seeming perfectly content.
Neither woman notices that the adjoining door to Agent Jones's room starts to open, then stops and closes again, leaving just a small crack of space between door and wall.
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Killian Jones returns with the assorted supplies on Ruby's list and is about to enter the other room when the sound of Emma Swan's voice arrests his motion. He honestly does not intend to start listening, but her words, and the sadness in her tone, tug at him and simply will not let him go. He steps back, making sure they won't notice his presence, but he cannot un-hear what Emma is saying, now that he's begun.
As Emma's life story unfolds, Killian finds himself moved by her story – drawing in a sharp breath upon learning that her jail time had been served in another's stead, admiring her determination to keep her baby and find a way to provide for him, and empathizing all too painfully with her being completely alone in the world. He resolves to somehow let her know that he understands – more than she knows – if he can find a way to do so. He certainly regrets his earlier assumptions and attitude toward her.
Finally, he hears Emma's voice trail off, ending her conversation with Ruby on the killing she had witnessed and admitting that she doesn't know how she is going to tell the little lad that the only father he has ever known is gone forever. Silence falls in the adjoining room, and Killian waits a few minutes more before knocking to announce his arrival.
"Come in, Killian," Ruby's voice greets. She sounds relaxed and off guard, but when Killian pushes in, hands full of plastic bags from the corner store, he is pleased to see that his partner is alert and prepared to strike if necessary. She sits tall and straight in her chair, hand hovering over her gun on the vanity.
Killian nods approvingly to her, turning to close the door behind him, and she immediately eases her stance. He holds up his purchases, grinning playfully at the two women and then letting his smile linger on Henry. "I come bearing gifts," he announces.
Henry stands and begins practically bouncing on the bed, arms outstretched eagerly. "Presents?!" he cries excitedly. "Can I see? Please?"
"I don't know, lad," Killian hedges, drawing out the boy's suspense, "better ask your mum."
The precocious little boy's eyes light up and his expression turns to rest on Emma hopefully, as if begging her to let him have whatever Killian has brought him. Emma is having a hard time keeping a serious look on her face, as if she really isn't sure it's a good idea. She knows she is going to tell her son 'yes' – she can't resist his innocent glee at something so simple – but she wants to string out his excitement for as long as possible after how good and patient he has been the last couple of days.
"Please, Mama?" Henry wheedles, thinking she is still on the fence. "Can't I have what Mr. Killy bought me?"
The room erupts as Henry's question registers with the three adults. Killian's eyes go wide and his mouth drops open, face rapidly flushing with embarrassment. Emma snorts, trying not to crack up at Henry's childish simplification of Jones's name. Ruby does lose it and bursts into cackling laughter, slapping her thigh and rocking back and forth in unrestrained mirth.
Henry looks both confused and slightly troubled. "What's so funny?" he questions, looking from one to the other of them as if trying to figure out what has happened and if they are laughing at him.
Trying to inconspicuously wipe tears of withheld laughter from the corners of her eyes, Emma manages to get her voice under control and hold out her hand for Henry. "Come here, Baby," she says soothingly, stroking his cheek when he climbs off the bed and stands before her. "We're not laughing at you. It's just that we haven't heard Agent Jones called that before, and it struck us funny. His name is Killian, not Killy."
Henry turns to Agent Jones, looking up at him guilelessly, "Oops," he says, "sorry."
To Emma's surprise, Killian Jones kneels down before Henry, putting him roughly at Henry's eye level, and smiles at her son easily. He speaks softly, his eyes kind, even if they seem to drift off somewhere else for a long moment. "It's alright, lad. I had not heard that nickname for a long time is all… Me older brother liked to call me that when we were young. No one else has ever called me that," he says, voice lowering to a whisper, and leaning in as if telling Henry a secret. "If it's easier for you though, you may use it."
Emma bites back another giggle at the sight of a hardened federal agent getting himself wrapped around Henry's little finger. In fact, she is pleasantly surprised by how good both Killian and Ruby are with her little boy. She melts just a bit at Jones and her son talking together seriously, like old friends.
Henry nods in response to Killian's words. "Okay, thanks," he says, smiling his gap-toothed grin at their protector, then asking as if he's about to burst, "now can I see my surprise?"
At that, Jones throws his head back with a full-bodied laugh. "Aye, that you can, my boy!" He takes the bag out from behind his back again, adding, "You're a right little pirate, aren't you? Can't be distracted from your treasure! I think I chose correctly."
Henry delves his hand into the bag, pulling out a play plastic spyglass. "Cool!" he exclaims, ripping the packaging apart, and then doing a little jig in place, before giving Jones a hug around the neck and turning to peer through his new toy at his mother and Agent Lucas.
"There you are, Mate,' Killian chuckles, standing again and moving to set the items in the other bag out on the bed. "Now you can survey your whole domain!"
Emma stands, moving to Jones's side for just a moment, before patting his shoulder and leaning to whisper teasingly in his ear. "You really are 'in' with him now…Killy." She absolutely cannot resist giving him a hard time; it's just too easy, even if she is glad he has made Henry so happy.
When Jones swings around to correct her, Emma is already moving away, turning back just long enough to toss a wink at him over her shoulder.