Okay, this is the last full length chapter to this beast of a story, and I truly hope you will enjoy some of the resolution that begins here and carries over into the epilogue coming soon. Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed this; it has truly made me so happy to see comments and feel that the story has been enjoyed. I do have to say that, as with my medical and FBI knowledge, most of my knowledge of courtroom drama and legal procedures also comes from television and novels. I did my best to make this seem believable, but I may have some details wrong.
So, anyway, on with the show!
Chapter Nineteen: As Long as We're Together
Waking to find Emma at his bedside, waiting anxiously for his eyes to open as she holds his good hand in hers, is the most healing sight Killian Jones could be greeted by upon his return to consciousness. Only a short interval of time has passed, but Killian is still disoriented for a moment, wondering confusedly how Emma is there with him again and how he ended up basically resting in comfort in the hospital once more. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, drawing in a cleansing breath and gathering his bearings, and he cannot help wondering once more if the past few weeks have only been a long, painful hallucination.
One look at Emma's concerned, anxious face, however, reminds him clearly that it has all been torturously real. She gives him a tiny smile that wobbles at the edges, reaching out to brush the dark fringe of his hair off his forehead as her eyes warm with affection. Her voice is a whisper, but a pleasant one that eases his mind and his soul as she greets him happily. "Killian, you're awake…You came back to me."
Tears of relief track steadily down her cheeks, and without thinking, he reaches up his left arm to wipe them away, only hesitating when the stump comes into view, reminding him once more that hand and those fingers are no longer there. Emma takes his blunted forearm in her hand when he pauses and draws it closer, pressing the bandaged limb against her cheek and holding it close, as if nothing could be more soothing.
He feels his heart swell at her action, unable to miss her unspoken assurance that she needs him there beside her and still wants his touch to ease her pain and fears. He stops trying to pull his arm away and allows it to rest against her skin, taking as much comfort from the contact as she does. Searching her eyes to ferret out any falsehood she might offer to spare his feelings, Killian gazes up at her, holding her stare when he speaks. "Were you hurt, Emma? Did either of those gunshots strike you?"
She shakes her head, realizing he had been fading out of consciousness when she reassured him at the scene. "Not a scratch, thanks to my amazing FBI protector," she answers, pride and love for him shining so brilliantly in her green eyes that even a blind man couldn't miss it.
"I just pushed you out of the way," he murmurs, the tips of his ears turning red at her effusive praise and his head bowing shyly as well. "It didn't require any great skill. I'm still a hand short and a liability."
"Hardly," Emma argues back, her chin jutting out with determination. "Your instincts are impeccable. No one else responded as quickly. You saved my life, Killian. There is no way you can't still do your job."
He doesn't want to argue with Emma, not now when he is finally allowed the warmth of her presence again, is feeling it fill the cold, emptiness he had imposed upon himself while he was gone. Not to mention that he wants to believe her – much more fervently than he would choose to admit. Instead, he inclines his head in the barest nod of deference to her, a fleeting smile of gratitude on his lips. "Maybe you're right, Emma," he allows softly. "Maybe you're right."
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Once properly attended to and allowing himself to recuperate as he should, Killian heals quickly. Given correct bandage changes and flushing of the wound, regular administration of the correct medications for pain, and the begin of therapy on the remaining limb, Jones can feel himself growing stronger, inching back toward the self-reliance and capability he has always possessed. More than that though, Killian knows in his heart that being where he belongs – with Emma – is the true difference in his outlook and recovery. There is a point and a reason for the effort now.
The trial was postponed of a necessity, with one of the crucial witnesses injured, until this day, two weeks later, and as had Emma prepares herself in her room that morning, she reflected on how differently she felt now than she did heading to the courthouse just a week ago. She is wearing the same outfit, headed to the same destination, and ready to offer the exact same testimony, but having Killian's fingers threaded with hers, her hand clasped in his, and his form beside her as they ascend the courthouse steps side by side makes all the difference in her confidence and belief this time around. This was all she had wished for to give her strength in her previous journey to the witness stand.
It seems she barely blinks and only moments pass before they are in the large, formal room – audience, lawyers, judge, and jurors all around, looking on in imposing silence. Emma swallows hard at the sight of Robert Gold and Cora Mills seated at the defense table, looking unconcerned, blank, and somehow – to her, at least – still threatening, nearly makes her steps falter and stops her progress to where she will sit with the prosecuting attorneys.
Killian squeezes her hand encouragingly, urging her on, and she regains her stride, taking her seat calmly without giving Gold or his sadistic harpy either one another glance. "Alright, Lass?" he whispers in her ear as they get settled, just before the judge calls the trial to order.
She holds his eyes for a brief moment, giving him a quick nod of agreement.
He squeezes her hand once more, adding as if he cannot help but pass a bit more goodness to her before the trial moves forward. "There is nothing they can do to you now. They cannot hide their evil in the darkness anymore. They face their reckoning now."
All she really has time to say – and to hope with all her heart – is, "I hope so."
When the time comes for Emma to take the stand for cross examination, after already giving her witness testimony, it is late in the afternoon. Her eyewitness recounting that morning of the events she had seen and experienced had gone without a hitch. She felt sympathy from the previously faceless listeners when she had broken down at reliving Graham's murder and the fear she had felt for her child as they ran for their lives. She heard more than one listener gasp when she told of being stabbed in the chest and having to watch the assault on Killian in that horrible dark basement she had thought they would never escape from alive.
However, as she returns to the stand, Emma has a bit of a bad moment where she feels utterly paralyzed. Sitting there staring out at strangers, the avid, listening faces of so many people she doesn't know and cannot read, along with a judge who appears both intimidating and mildly disapproving, and Gold's pricey defense attorney who looks ready to swoop in on her and go for the kill., Emma has to clasp her hands tightly in her lap, praying no one will see the way they have begun to tremble. Biting the inside of her cheek and hoping that her voice will not quaver or disappear on her completely, Emma forces herself to look away from the gleefully sadistic grin Cora Mills levels at her, still chilling her blood in her veins and looking not a bit fazed by the punishment coming to her. Emma simply cannot look at Gold at all – not without seeing that mallet swinging down to crush Killian's hand.
The defense lawyer steps forward, ready to begin his questioning, a dark pall moving forward to close in like a shadow over the sun, and Emma knows she has to find a way to steel herself. She only has moments to steady her voice, gather her words and her nerve again. There is no way she can risk letting these monsters get away with what they have done – not only for Graham's sake and for herself, but what is more important in Emma's mind…for Henry's sake, and for Killian's. Quickly, her eyes dart to where Killian sits. The effect is nearly instantaneous as his intoxicating blue gaze is waiting for her, wrapping her up and holding her tightly, as if he can shield her without even touching her. Somehow it truly does calm her fears; she gazes back until the questions are leveled at her and the words come. The fear is gone. As long as he is with her.
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One week later, the clichéd phrase that one could "hear a pin drop" is undeniably true in the crowded courtroom as the trial verdict is about to be read. The bailiff brings the jury's recommendation to the judge with all due solemnity, handing the piece of paper that seems to be weighted with all Emma's hopes for peace and a normal life upon it, then backs away to stand at his usual post. The entire gathering seems to be wait with bated breath, just as Emma does, on the edge of their seats with tension. She knows she is clutching Killian's remaining hand too hard as he sits rigidly beside her, tension in every line of his body as well, and she forcibly makes herself loosen her grip before he loses feeling in his fingers or has to pull away completely.
Presently, the judge clears his throat and begins to speak in his deliberate, sonorous voice. "The jury has found – and I concur – both Robert Gold and Cora Mills guilty of murder in the first degree, attempted murder, aggravated assault, kidnapping, and extortion. They are hereby sentenced to life in prison without parole…" His words carry on as exclamations and whispers go up around the courtroom, but the rest of his proclamation is lost to Emma's ears. The so-called Queen of Hearts slumps in her seat, as if suddenly defeated by the realization that she has been found guilty and her reign of terror is at an end. For a woman with such cultured bearing and obvious preference for the finer things, jail must be a bleak prospect indeed – not that Emma finds she can muster up much sympathy.
Gold erupts, flailing demonically against the guards who have come to cart he and his associate away, flinging curses and veiled threats that they haven't seen the last of him and he isn't finished yet. Gone however is the imposing reptilian beast he has seemed while haunting her nightmares; Emma sees him now for the cruel, sniveling coward he is, a man who has hidden behind the masks of money and power, working in the dark with hired muscle to achieve his treacherous aims.
After that, everything around them outside of she and Killian seems to fade into a hazy background. She doesn't see the flashbulbs going off from reporters' cameras or register the questions being shouted at fever pitch or notice the microphones thrust into her face. All she really feels is falling into his chest, tears of relief and cleansing pouring down both of their faces. He is a steady rock of support, but she feels him trembling too and thinks of how much longer he has been waiting for this day, to see justice served for his brother, his lost love…and for himself. In that moment, all that matters to Emma is Killian's arm around her, gathering her to his side as they begin to move away from the crowd. Somehow, before she is really aware, they have reached the outside of the courthouse again, the sharp winter sun glaring blindingly down on them, and Ruby and David flanking them closely, along with several other agents and police officers part of the escort as well. None of it really penetrates the bubble Emma finds herself floating in, so glad that this is over she cannot process much beyond that giant, relieving fact.
She knows, as they all do, that Gold may still have underlings –as will Cora, and even her former boss Spencer – lieutenants hoping to step into the crime boss' place and wear his discarded crown. Those few people may still be hunting her for a time, wanting to make sure there are no leftover loose ends or to make a show of their own strength, but she finally sees the light at the end of what has been a long, dark tunnel. Emma knows with sudden clarity that they have at last reached the other side. She may have to change her name, her looks, where she and Henry live once more; yet, Emma feels in her bones that this time it will be different…this time it will last. Maybe she and Henry will finally have a place, not just to lay their heads, but to call home. Despite the fear and heartache that started this journey, despite the adjustments and uncertainty in the immediate future, for the first time in a very long time, Emma feels true joy.
Tipping her head up to smile at Killian, sunlight blaring down all around them and illuminating his lovely face, she flushes when he murmurs, "You did it, Love," and hugs her close while bending to kiss her forehead. "And now you're free."
She shakes her head with a wide grin, answering him right back as she rises on her tiptoes to kiss him in return just before getting into their car. "No, Killian…We did it. Together. And we're both finally free."
"Aye, Lass," he agrees wholeheartedly, acknowledging both what she says and the end of the dark, questing lonely years he has weathered on his own. "That we are."
As they leave the trial behind the rearview mirror, Emma knows that he has already begun to heal – and that time will eventually take care of the rest for both of them. She is finally going to belong somewhere, with someone who loves her, and she knows that this person…her Killian…will stay.