A/N: Jrob64 is a saint of a beta who makes this readable, thank you!
Does anyone on ffn read this? If so, sorry for the wait. For the past six months, I've been trying to write this chapter without Muse. I should've known better. Muse deleted my attempt and gave me this instead. I feel like a horrible writer. This chapter (this entire fic) is all Muse, and that makes me jealous.. because that's sane. I'm totally sane like Muse is totally not annoying at all.
Chapter 3
There was far too much for her to process. Far. Too. Much.
From kissing Killian repeatedly after she let him return to her life - what did that even mean - to the news they learned at the doctor's office a week ago- not to mention the confusing memories that returned to her since that day at the doctor's office.
She regained a handful of memories during the winter months, but there wasn't a lot for her to latch onto. She couldn't tell what memory happened when.. except for Christmas. Christmas day was crystal clear.
Emma smiled at her attempt at Christmas cheer. The tree, cut from construction paper and decorated with paper ornaments, was hanging on her living room wall. She managed to find a few small empty boxes around her apartment, wrapping them in construction paper too. They were sitting comfortably beneath her little paper tree.
It was the most effort she ever put into a Christmas before, making this one for the record books. Satisfied with herself, actually feeling a little cheerful, she made her way out of her apartment in search of a little self-gift.
The stores were packed, she wasn't surprised- but it was frustrating to navigate the stores, let alone do any actual shopping. She flowed with the foot traffic, noticing a section of store that seemed fairly vacant all things considered, and made her exit from the throngs.
It was the men's clothing department. She shrugged it off, willing to look around at the various items left on shelves and racks. The clearance rack was nearly gone, a few pairs of shorts, swim trunks, and one cream colored hoodie that was extra small. She checked it was actually on clearance, holding it up to herself to guess the size- she was not trying this on, the lines for that were monstrous-
It looked like it would fit well enough, and actually looked like it might keep her warm during the frigid winter season. She was incapable of buying things just because she liked them or wanted them, and this seemed to fall into the category of 'useful'.
The new memory made her wonder where the hoodie went, until she kept going over the rest of Christmas day. She treated herself to a Diner Dinner, and made her way to work- which was where she got her other Christmas present.
She locked her car door, heading to the nondescript building she worked out of. It was a bail bonds business, the one she'd worked out of since moving to the city a few years prior, and it was the closest thing to home she ever knew.
She walked slowly to avoid slipping on the ice, keeping her eyes on the ground surrounding her feet. Pain bloomed down her arm, shoulders, and throat as she was shoved into the brick wall, her head hitting the bricks hard enough she nearly blacked out. It took her a moment to figure out what happened, her eyes focusing with some difficulty.
She felt a ragged breath on her neck, and she didn't know what to think. It was hitting her with the exhale of a soft chuckle, something amused and proud and vile.
"Gotcha, Em." Of fucking course it was Neal. She recognized his voice before her vision was clear, and it was terrifying not to be able to fully see any of her surroundings. All she knew was how trapped she felt. Neal was pressed into her, pushing her into the wall, his leg between hers, some body part - forearm? - pressing against her throat, making it difficult to breathe. One of her arms was trapped between her and the wall, the other she tried to use to defend herself, but she was feeling out of it from the head injury, weak from the lack of oxygen. He was fucking brazen, his other arm grasping her wrist, throwing it against the wall.
It hurt. Everything hurt, and she couldn't move, and she felt his arousal. It sickened her, knowing this would be fuel for future fantasies- but she needed a way out, or she'd be a part of those fantasies again, and she did not want that.
She tried to gulp down air with the little leeway he afforded her, his arm painfully pressing against her windpipes. She made a gurgling sound as she attempted to breathe in.
"You keep changing apartments, baby, but I love it when you play hard to get. I'll just have to punish you, just like you like it."
She tried not to whimper as he clicked his tongue. She still couldn't focus on any one thing, her vision too blurry to make out much of anything. She swore she could see the malicious grin spreading across his face, and felt how his pants grew even tighter at his suggestion.
He was enjoying this way too much.
He pressed into her harder, her lungs constricting, an edge of black surrounding her vision, and she had to do something- or she wasn't going to make it.
As she tried to formulate a plan, it occurred to her that this was what he wanted. To catch her alone, incapacitate her, and drag her with him- the ultimate control over her, to keep her to himself to do as he wished.
The bang of a door being forced open was music to her ears- that meant people. The sound startled him enough, Emma managed to gather her remaining energy and willpower to knee him in the family jewels.
"Back away, creep, or this bullet goes straight into your head." Thank God for Mulan.
Emma gulped on air, listening to the crunch of snow and ice as the other two moved around. She doubled over, sinking her knees into the cold as she listened, blinking rapidly in hopes her sight would return to normal.
Neal's laughter was pained, which gave her a shred of solace. "Bring your friend, Em. We can all have fun."
Emma heard the sound of the pistol being cocked, turning her head to see the blurry figures against the white background.
"Alright, I get it," Neal huffed. "Emma likes our foreplay when it's in a more private setting anyway.. We'll continue this later, Em."
The rest of Christmas was fairly blank to her, but the whole memory felt.. fresh. Her fingers grazed the skin on her neck, terror for the life inside spiking in her veins. She'd forgotten how brazen he was, torturing her in public like that more than once, a string of similar memories coming to her, all from her missing year.
She gulped in a few fortifying breaths. It was a safe assumption that Neal was unable to locate her new apartment, instead choosing to follow her from her place of work.
Thank God for Mulan, who often sat with a puzzle book in front of the security cameras as she worked through her anger management podcast. If it wasn't for her, Emma felt like she'd either be dead.. or wishing she was. Though in hindsight.. his sudden appearance that night was a twisted kind of blessing. Because he was so impatient to torture her, she was able to watch her six and keep anyone from following her, no matter where she was headed to or from.
A Christmas Miracle.
She had to push past those memories, because they were only the tip of the iceberg on her list of things to process. Like the other memory that resurfaced over the last week.
It wasn't uncommon for her to visit various local police precincts, depending on the skip she caught and where the warrant originated from. One of her memories from a vague winter day included a new-to-her Detective she instantly disliked because of how handsome she found him.
She had no business liking anyone. The memory was short and sweet, the cop had a gentle nature, simply being friendly as he assisted her in turning over her latest skip- then she had to dodge his questions about the bruise on her neck. She only told him what she had to, since he naturally assumed the man she brought in did it, and she couldn't falsely accuse the scum of that no matter how terrible he was.
That was all her mind gave her. A few moments in a police station with a Detective.. but something about him reminded her of Killian. Almost.. like she knew both could bring her peace and hope and fluffy thoughts the nurses at Blue Angel, downtown, would be proud to hear if she uttered it aloud. Though, she got the impression the two men were nothing alike.
And the detective wasn't even in the picture anymore- right?
She shivered at the thought. What unknown memories was her mind keeping from her? A husband? Girlfriend? A new job she loved? Yet another new apartment, or car, or finding her family? The fact there was one stranger amongst her missing memories reminded her of just how much she was still missing. Sure, she remembered Christmas, and could guess her meeting the Detective happened within a week of Christmas, since she still sported the bruise.. but what else was there to discover?
She could not go there.
Instead, she thought about the last major thing on her growing list of things to process, pulling the image from her apron with shaking fingers, turning it over so she could see the sonogram-
They didn't learn the sex of the baby the day they went, but they were surprised with the news of twins. Twins. As in two babies at the same time. She remembered staring at her growing belly, finding she was incapable of looking at the monitor next to her - but she knew what it looked like from the picture she was holding. Both babies, little lines of light against the dark background, their two oddly shaped little heads pressed together, almost like they were cuddling or comforting each other - it still sent a panic through her, even though a week had gone by.
She remembered her initial panic, how she worried over her ability to do this on her own, her ability to support these two babies-
Killian looked hurt, his face falling at her words as she rambled. He shut her up with a kiss that stopped all conscious thought, made her feel weak in the best way, and calmed her with his safe energy.
He made her feel safe.
When he released her, he gave her a small smile. "You'll never be alone, Emma," he murmured, "and you'll never shoulder this blessing on your own."
Remembering that moment brought her mixed feelings. A small smile because of his sincerity, and how she wished he was here. She felt an ache because she missed him, like her heart went with him back to the city- which was ridiculous. They barely knew each other, barely interacted- she didn't even know how he was planning on participating in the baby's life! From afar? Reading them to sleep via skype? Despite the little she knew about her - friendship? - with the man, he still managed to inspire hope for some future she still couldn't imagine because he wasn't here.
He managed to stay with her for as long as he could, which ended up being a few days. He took her to a maternity store, buying her far too many clothes. She insisted she wouldn't be able to wear them all before she outgrew them, but he was persistent, threatening to buy her something ridiculous if she refused to help him pick.
Then he helped her fill her apartment (his words) like it was an actual home- and it did feel like one when he was there, too- she tried not to think about that, she did not have the energy for that.
She closed her eyes, wishing she had the ability to just quit Granny's, but she knew she would go crazy if she did stay at home all the time. Which was why, despite his insistence she could use his card to get by on, she continued to work at the diner. She even worked during those few days he stayed in town- something she regretted now that he was gone.
When he was here, she returned home to a spotless apartment, where he presented her with hot food he cooked himself, followed by a foot massage, because the damn bastard freaking pampered her, and she had to gulp down the uncomfortable feeling it gave her every time he did. She didn't know how to accept such gestures. It was impossible for her to just.. accept, but she knew he was trying, and damn if she would turn him down when he was being so sweet, doing things for her.
He was the complete opposite of Neal. She couldn't even admit to herself how much she liked Killian's gestures.. or how much she liked him.
But he had to get back to his life. He had a company to run, employees to oversee, and who knows what else he had in the city. For all she knew, Killian could be returning to a wife, or a boyfriend - she didn't know. All she knew, for sure, was he did return to the city, and she felt more alone now than she felt in years.
She wondered if this was how it was always going to go. A few days here in between who knows how long there, both finding others to date, or whatever.. but how could she believe he'd help her shoulder this blessing, if he was never here? She couldn't allow herself to get attached, or hope for some kind of relationship. It just wasn't worth it.
Killian was grinning when he left the interview room, raising his brows at Smee as he gave a curt nod. He finally found the perfect employee to take over his duties in the city. This meant he could finally head back to Maine, and move the new branch of his company from the planning stages into the development stages. It was almost official.
He never could have predicted - how a time of great stress, unknowing where Emma was or if she was even alright - led to him simply trying to fill his worried mind with anything else. And that led to this, the massive growth of his company because of all the clients he found, all the employees he needed to assist him, which further grew the company, which meant more clients, more employees- it was never ending.
And it meant he could bring his business to Storybrooke, the possibility of a perfectly happy life right there, just beyond his grasp.. only he wasn't sure Emma would want him with her, not that he could blame her. He wasn't sure he was fit to be around a new mother and two fragile babes. He was still struggling to cope with his demons, whispering to him how he would bring them nothing but pain, hardship, death.
He felt his smile falter into his signature blank expression. He didn't know what she wanted, he had no way to communicate with her - Ruby already told him no until the weekend, where she might slip a message to her grandmother - but Killian was hoping to be back before then..
If Emma would have him.
He found himself swaggering to his office, his defense mechanism fully seeded within him as he closed and locked his door, plucking the bright red box from his pocket. He stared at it a moment before he opened it to examine the ring he'd purchased. He really shouldn't have. They were barely acquaintances, after all, and he knew she would assume he was doing this out of some ancient code of honor. He couldn't deny it was a sliver of truth, but the harder pill to swallow was the truth - the pull he felt since meeting her in the bar, the unshakable feeling that one way or another, he'd find this ring, go down on a knee, and ask her to be his wife.
He wanted it to mean what it usually meant. That he was sure, that he didn't care how little they knew of the other, that it didn't matter if she was pregnant or not- he'd still want this. And the babes weren't a reason to rush into anything-
Babes. Plural. It was a frightful thought, he could admit, but he couldn't hold back his joyful grin every time he thought of it. Sure, two would most likely be more difficult, more taxing on them both, but.. to him, it meant more to love. More family.
It swelled his heart.
Killian felt like a right mess as he glanced back at the ring, wondering how she might react. Some days, all he could imagine was her glee, her easy acceptance. Others, he couldn't see past her panic. The same panic she showed when they discovered they were having twins. It still stabbed him in his heart, how easy it was for her to assume she'd be doing this alone - he didn't want that. How could she not see.. all of this was for her and the babes on the way?
Emma's tone when she asked about twins in his family history was almost an accusatory one. It took him far too long to assure her, there were no twins in his line. Her eyes grew comically wide at the notion that twins ran in her family, something she didn't know and might never find out.
He was grateful for her hormones, allowing a brief moment of vulnerability. She opened up to him about being an orphan, what it was like in the system as she covered her womb protectively. He knew bits of what it was like, living through something similar, though nothing compared to what she went through. He simply listened to her backstory, not bothering to mention August already spilled those particular beans. Killian would rather hear it from her.
The day he left was his least favorite day in recent memory. Their goodbyes were rushed, happening right before her shift, and she acted like it was nothing.. though he found he didn't want to leave, the old adage coming to mind 'home is where the heart is'.. and his heart was in Storybrooke with a woman and two tiny beings she carried within her.
Every step away from her, every minute in the car that took him further from her, just felt more and more like he was leaving his heart behind. Just a few more days, he reminded himself, and he'd be back in her town, hopefully in her arms.. if she allowed it. He was getting the sense she didn't let people in very often. It was another thing he daydreamed about, the various ways their stories could play out, almost every other detail rearranging except for one thing.. he and Emma belonged together.
It was a presumptuous notion, but he felt it in his bones.
He had to shake his thoughts to clear them. Nothing could be done, not from here, and he still needed all of his ducks in a row so he could see her in a few days. With a sigh, he snapped the box shut, placing it back into his pocket, and moving toward the desk so he could gather the paperwork needed to promote his candidate to replace him.
Then.. he needed to find the right location for the new branch of his business, and he was starting his search in Storybrooke, Maine.
Emma took a moment to examine herself in the mirror, pinching her cheeks because she was too damn cheap to buy blush. She'd spent the last ten minutes holed up in the bathroom, unable to deal with Graham on top of everything else.
She just had to keep repeating the mantra in her head, just two more days, he'll be back- despite the anxiety crawling along her chest that she'd never see him again. She shook herself. Emma Swan was not clingy. Or needy. At all.
She shivered at the lie, knowing it was more how he made her feel, like she was worthy of love - or hormones. Definitely hormones. It might be easier if she had any way to talk to him, but she didn't, stupidly leaving her phone with Ruby.. no, that wasn't stupid. Neal always found her, and she had to take every precaution.. especially with her precious cargo.
She groaned and rubbed her belly protectively. She didn't want to go back to work, but she had tables to take care of, and money to earn - intentionally ignoring the fact that she could quit. She just wasn't willing to take his money like that. It wasn't like she needed it, not yet anyway.
Just two more days, he'll be back.
With a deep breath in, she made her way out of the bathroom, walking through the narrow halls awkwardly until she returned to the dining room, looking around to reacclimate herself to her serving position.
It was a slow day, only a few of her regulars came in and out through her shift. She couldn't blame anyone, it was a beautiful day. Most people were likely taking picnics on the beach, or enjoying the seafood restaurant on the pier.. she tried not to hum at the thought of the food there. She was craving seafood lately, and it was strong. The thought of it had her mouth watering, antsy for her shift to end so she could splurge on dinner at the Second Chance. It would probably take up all her tips from the day, and yesterday, but she just didn't care.
It was worth being cheap on makeup.
For a split second, she wondered which of the two little beings inside her was the one wanting seafood, but she couldn't focus on that. It was far too distracting, and led her down a mental rabbit hole of despair at her entire situation.
She just needed him to get back. That was normal.. right?
She physically cringed when she realized she'd been standing still as a statue, just staring off into the room of tables. She scanned the room, determined not to zone out again, noticing she didn't have any new customers, and most of her tables looked like they hadn't missed her.. but the doe-eyed sheriff lit up when he saw her. It was sweet, really.
She forced a small smile his way, making a point to slowly make her way between her other three tables, stopping at each for longer than she needed to before she couldn't delay the inevitable any longer.
"Alright, sheriff?"
"Yes, except your persistent need to call me sheriff."
"That's your title, isn't it?" As much as she appreciated the fact that he had a crush on her, she just wasn't interested. Using his title was impersonal.. which was the point.
"Yes," he breathed heavily, "but you don't need to keep using it. I do have a name."
"I know, sheriff."
Emma was prepared to leave him to his lunch when he peppered her with questions about her well being, if she was eating well, if she was sleeping alright.. then he started on how the babes were- she would kill whichever doctor or nurse let slip her medical information. She never actually told anyone she was having twins, Killian found out with her, yet the entire town seemed to know that damn detail almost as soon as she left the freaking hospital.
Lastly, Graham asked about "that man" with a pinched expression. Everyone heard about the kiss she shared with Killian in the middle of Granny's. Apparently it was hot gossip. The new pregnant with twins waitress, making out with a handsome stranger in a very public setting.. Emma kinda wished Graham had seen it, considering how the gossip almost made it sound like live porn.
The thought made her blush.
"Yeah, he's good too, he'll be back in a few days, actually."
Graham tried to muffle his scoff. "Will he? After hearing you're having twins?"
It wasn't the first time Graham asked about Killian, or made some comment about him not being here. She thought about defending Killian when it first happened, but a part of her was too insecure to believe her own defenses. This time, Graham hit squarely on one of her insecurities, even though she was desperately trying to ignore it.
She.. she knew, on some level, that he was coming back.. but years of disappointment (that she could remember) made her question that knowledge.. and she suspected Graham had ulterior motives for his little jabs.
He looked her in the eyes with the most sincere expression she ever saw, reaching out to grasp her hand as he murmured. "I'm here, Emma. Whatever you need. I'll be here."
And there it was. His angle. She did not have the bandwidth for this, too, on top of everything else she was overthinking.
Emma plastered on her best imitation smile while thanking him - he was a good tipper, afterall - and moved to the kitchen to find some busywork to keep her mind occupied.
Bless Granny for letting her roll silverware while sitting down.
Graham Humbert was feeling listless when he returned to the station, tumultuous thoughts swirling around the newest resident of Storybrooke. Emma was a sweet girl, guarded to be sure, but he could tell she was a good person behind that wall of hers. It didn't hurt that she was smart, funny, had the most breathtaking smile- and she made his heart skip a beat every time he saw her.
He didn't want to feel anything for her, he didn't. He couldn't help it.
Graham's crush led him to thinking about her and her situation far too often. He suspected Emma ran here, away from something.. and he suspected the lover he heard so much about, images from gossip playing in his mind, how a tall dark-haired stranger entered the diner, and when she saw him, she made a beeline right into his arms, a passionate kiss taking them over. Some reports had the kiss timed to well over ten minutes.
But where was the man who impregnated her? Not here, where she needed him, and Graham couldn't help the bitter thoughts as they passed through his mind.
She could do better than that. She needed a real man. One who could protect her, not harm her. Someone who was here, body and soul. Someone.. who was more than simply 'willing' to put up with her and her babes.. someone who actually wanted them. All of them.
He ignored the part of his brain that enlisted himself as one such man, instead focusing on Emma's relationship to her baby daddy. Were they together? Emma sidestepped the question when he asked, so he suspected no, though that wasn't a solid fact he could use.
Was the man returning? Graham was torn on his own feelings about that. He wanted the best for Emma, didn't want to see her heart broken.. but he couldn't deny the desire to be there for her if anything should happen to her heart. He already felt protective of her, anger coursing through him at the mere suggestion her baby daddy could abandon them.
He thought about that scenario. Emma, left to her own devices, turning to him when it all fell apart. He rather enjoyed the thought of her on his shoulder, sharing her woes-
This wasn't healthy, surely. Graham knew better than to get caught up in gossip, or let his mind wander through ideas without facts. He was a better cop- a better man than that.
But he was a good cop..
He stared at the computer in his office, trying to tell himself no, even as he slowly stepped toward it. It wasn't really personal use to check on the two newcomers.. he would just make sure they checked out, didn't pose a threat to his town.. and if one of them didn't.. he would be informed, able to keep watch..
Besides, Emma and her unborn babes needed someone on their side, someone unbiased, someone who could actually do something if anything needed to be done. She needed a Knight by her side as she struggled with the perils of life.
His excuse thought out, he dashed into his seat- but he didn't know the man's name. He knew it started with a 'C', or perhaps a 'K', but he'd only heard it once in passing. Resigned to his task, he typed in Emma Swan with a heavy heart, waiting impatiently for the results to load. The station desperately needed upgrades, or perhaps the infrastructure did.. preferably both. He was surprised when a file on Emma popped up, though most of it was sealed.
There was a protective order in place, he knew it - one state over, in the big city - he gasped at the photo of her, the massive bruise on her neck, her angry expression as she glared at the camera, almost like she was in the middle of yelling at someone.
He felt triumphant when proven right, though the image of her that December night brought him far more negative emotions that weighed his satisfaction down. The sight of her like that brought him sorrow, dread of what else he might uncover if he kept digging, guilt that he wasn't there to protect her. He was confused that someone, anyone could do such a thing to such a wonderful person. Fury like none he knew before had him cursing at his screen, scanning over the scant details carefully for further answers.
The detective who wrote up the case file left a note in the bottom, almost like it was added later, perhaps in a rush, or at the last minute. A name was all he could find there, testing it on his tongue.. it wasn't right. It didn't sound like the name of the man she was kissing in Granny's.. unless he was remembering it wrong.
Suddenly needing to prove himself correct, he did a search for the name listed, a long file popping up. This one had pictures too, and he was taken aback at the startling differences between the man he heard about and the face staring back at him. This man didn't look at all like he'd imagined. Different coloring, shorter stature-
Who the hell was Neal Cassidy?
Emma was tired of pacing, far beyond the point of caring what it might look like for her to sit on the steps leading to her apartment, staring toward the street as she impatiently waited for someone she was beginning to believe wouldn't show up.
She sipped the calming tea in her mug, blanching at the cold temperature of the liquid. Her mind was a maelstrom, dark thoughts overwhelming her to no end. She felt like a petulant teenager, dying for access to her phone (not for the first time). She regretted the decision to leave that damned device behind, but she knew she'd still be looking over her shoulder if she brought it with her and she did not have the energy for that. It was exhausting.
She couldn't help but mentally run through all the reasons he could be hours late. Something came up at work. Unusually heavy traffic. He lost track of time. He couldn't get away from his wife and kids. He was splayed out on the side of the road.
Or maybe it was a choice.. maybe it was her. Maybe he realized she wasn't worth the effort, that twins were a lot of responsibility he wasn't prepared to handle- she took another sip, forgetting it was cold, blanching again at the bitter taste.
She wondered what he might tell her over the phone if he could. Just one more day. One more week. Or would he vanish, ghosting her from the device all together?
The problem was telling herself he did it on purpose. Something within her believed him, and she hated that, because she was left with thoughts like he was dead- and she wasn't sure she could handle that. No, she was positive she couldn't handle that.
She sighed, bringing the cup to her mouth absentmindedly, blanching again. She stared at the brown liquid, a memory tickling her mind. It was infuriating, to know she was this close to remembering something-
Emma was on her third outing with Detective Gilbert Russo when he teased her about her inability to drink tea, daring her to try his. It felt so normal, picking up his mug from across the table with a good-natured roll of her eyes, sipping it with a smile because it actually tasted okay.
She was hopeful for the future for the first time since Neal's second attempt to win her heart - anything Neal ever attempted was nothing like this.
Emma gasped at her mug, the memory floating along the brown ripples. She wasn't sure of the timing, of the memory where it fell in her disjointed memories, but she knew this man. He was the same detective she remembered last week, the man who asked about the bruise on her neck.
She remembered the thoughts and feelings she had at the cafe, how he was breaking down her walls, allowing her to breathe. She remembered feeling ready to open up to him, that crawling need to take a leap, push past prior pain and abandonment issues-
If.. that was true.. then what happened to Gilbert?
She didn't want to know, suddenly feeling a sense of dread, like a part of her already knew the answer to that like it was on the tip of her tongue- could she find out? Should she? How?
She was shaking when she carefully set her cup down on the step behind her, staring at the mug she bought herself from a thrift store. Nothing special, but it was a dollar, and she used her own money for it. She always appreciated things more when they were hard earned.
Looking around, she wondered how she might find out any information on the cop from her memories without a phone, or a computer- the library. Internet, and a computer to access it. Determined, she stood slowly, careful to avoid a blood pressure issue (she thought) that made her stumble if she stood too quickly. Standing upright, she took a moment to think about her next steps before she took them, also considering the repercussions of looking into this.. Gilbert Russo.
Her determination to remember won out as she landed on the stone circle, moving forward. Emotions began to attack her in earnest as she made her way across the pavers toward the opening in the little white picket fence. She refused to believe anything was wrong when she really didn't know anything, and her emotions could go to hell along with her hormones. Being pregnant was a chore.
She felt like she was trudging through water as she crossed the street. The last heat of the afternoon was sweltering, but she powered through, putting one foot in front of the other, reminding herself to breathe through it. The heat, the emotions.. it was fine. It wasn't going to be bad. She did disappear, and the hospital had no way to contact anyone- not that she had many people to tell she got hit by a car, but if she did have her memories.. would she call him? She didn't know. The two memories of him were stark in their differences. The first one, she couldn't get away from him fast enough, but the second showed a friendlier side.
She approached the library with dread and anticipation, reaching out with shaking fingers to open the door, the chill from the air conditioning making her shiver. The contrast from the heat felt ominous, but she reminded herself it was nothing. Everything was fine.
Emma gave a little half wave to Belle in greeting as she forced her feet to keep moving through the first floor until she found an unoccupied computer. Breathing out, trying to lighten the tightening of her chest, she took a seat, staring at the screen like she'd never seen a computer before.
She was still processing. From Neal and his possessive abuse, to the twins and their safety- the pull she felt toward Killian, how he asked her to move in with him before she moved here. All the possibilities of the things her mind deleted, how some could be beautiful, and others could be the worst things she ever went through and just didn't know it.
Would this search lead to another thing to add to that list?
She didn't know. She didn't want to know.
She needed to find out.
She was a big girl. She could handle this.
Shaking herself, she forced her fingers to enter the query in the search engine, positive she was making it out to be something far worse than it was. Not knowing didn't mean the worst had happened- she pressed enter, her heart dropping as the articles popped up. In March, there was a raid against Gold and his empire- and Gilbert Russo was named a fatality.
She wasn't sure what to- do, or think, or-
She didn't remember much of the man, but she did remember how he made her feel from her memory in the cafe, and that snippet had her feeling watery. She leaned back in her seat, unseeing the stack of bookshelves in front of her as another memory assaulted her mind. This one, of a newsreel flashing across some television screen.
Emma remembered wondering where Gilbert was, the news confirming something about his passing, and Emma could remember feeling as if her bubble of hope just.. popped. Like a fragile soap bubble floating in the air, innocent and carefree.
Her lungs constricted, and she had to get out of there, but her speeds were slower than normal. Standing carefully, she waited a moment to catch her breath before pacing herself out of the building. It took her ages to make it to her apartment, then her borrowed car, unable to make it up the stairs to the apartment she really didn't want to see right now.
She glanced up at her building as she started the ignition, completely torn. Killian was due to arrive any time, but she just couldn't-
And she was starting to believe he wouldn't.
Emma was completely unaware of the two men behind her, following her every move, entering their own vehicle as she drove away in Ruby's SUV. They double checked the photos they were given, agreeing it looked an awful lot like the woman they were told to find.
They took a photo of her the first chance they could get, sending it off for confirmation.
Emma Swan.
Emma woke up feeling numb. Killian was four days late, Graham was finding newer and newer ways to be annoyingly overprotective, and the emotions she'd experienced over the last few days were draining, to say the least. It got to the point where Granny had to tell her to go home yesterday, and apparently Emma was taking today off too.
After finding out about Gilbert, rediscovering it, she drove in circles. She eventually realized the tears were coming one way or another, so she picked streets at random, turning this way and that, eventually finding herself at a grassy park overlooking the harbor. She didn't even know Storybrooke had a harbor.
She simply parked, waddled her way to a bench, and sat down. The ocean seemed to calm her, though she was right about the tears, flowing endlessly. She was grateful she managed to keep still, and silent though them.
She wasn't even sure why she cried. She had two memories of the man, and a few memories of how she felt around him.
It was worse with Killian. As safe as Gilbert made her feel, Killian was a bubble of everything home. As happy as she was in that moment sipping Gilbert's tea, she was incandescent everytime she was around Killian- when she allowed herself to be. And as much as Gilbert made her feel giddy, like a kid with a crush.. Killian made her feel like she could be loved, like she was worthy.
But he still wasn't here.
She couldn't allow herself to fall down the rabbit hole of despair. She had two little lives to think of, not just herself, and the sooner she was able to push Killian Jones and his damn pull out of her mind, the better.
But for now.. she felt like pie.
Killian rubbed his hand over his face in exasperation. He was late, and he hated himself, but looking for her was an absolute nightmare. She wasn't home, and he'd been waiting here for the last hour, deciding wherever she was, he could find her.
He missed her, and couldn't help but worry in her absence.
He looked around for her car, checking her top two preferred spots he'd noted the last time he was here, easily finding the vehicle in her second favorite space. It was empty, though he wasn't sure why she might choose to sit in her car instead of going upstairs.
He thought about the possibilities, knowing she might choose to walk to very few places. The grocery, for one, or the library.. or to Granny's. But he had been absent for nearly two weeks, which meant he was operating with old information.
If he couldn't find her at those three locations, and she still wasn't home.. he wouldn't think about it.
Mentally tossing a coin, he headed toward Granny's. He felt like an eejit for not calling. He knew Granny had a working line he could have easily called, left a message for Emma, or at least learn of her schedule if Granny was willing to part with the information.
But he didn't, now suffering the agonizing thoughts of what ifs. Was she in the hospital? Did something happen with the twins? Did she leave again? Or did Neal Cassidy find her?
The daunting possibilities had him on edge in a way he never was prior to meeting her. He kept telling himself how his imagination was just playing tricks. She was most likely nearby. Somewhere.
Safe.
Emma licked the plate clean, the pie even more delicious than it had any right to be. She smiled at Granny, something small but genuine, as the older woman sat down on the other end of the sofa, giving Emma a knowing stare over her glasses. Emma blinked at the sudden mom vibes she was getting, making her feel like curling up under the knit blanket splayed across her knees.
"Talk." Emma gulped at the gruff tone. This was the most mom thing she'd ever experienced, and she was torn between excitement, and terror. How did she know? "Now, Emma." Emma sighed, trying to process enough of this to speak- "Now means now, stop thinking so hard girl!"
Emma took a deep breath, mentally preparing to bare her soul for the older woman. She wasn't sure where to start, and she didn't have the time to think, apparently. Killian? Gilbert? Neal? Her inability to parent freaking twins on her own? Graham's annoying behavior as of late?
With a heavy heart, Emma jumped into it, in no particular order. She knew her voice wavered, but she didn't feel it, still numb to her emotions. She'd already cried so much the last few days, she suspected her tear ducts were on strike. She told her story like her life was a series of scientific facts, the bullet point edition.
She talked. And talked. And when she was done, Granny looked a little stunned, needing to take her own minute to process.
"This.. Neal fellow.. he hasn't shown up in your memories since January?"
Emma pushed her lips to the side and shrugged. "I don't know. Some of my memories aren't exactly time stamped. But, as far as I know, I don't have any memories between January and July except for the tea one, which.. it was indoors, I have no way of knowing when that happened."
"And the accident was in.. April?"
"Right."
"Which means you still don't know who the father is?"
Emma shrugged, moving her fork around the plate, listening to the small screeching noise she made against the porcelain. "I think it's Killian's."
To Emma's surprise, Granny just nodded like this was as good as a blood test.
"You still havent told me what's got your goat."
Wasn't she listening? "Everything. Granny, I don't know how to do this. One baby is a lot but twins, on my own.. Killian is obviously not coming back, I can't handle Graham acting the way he has been, and I'm just.. I think I'm meant to be alone."
"But you feel it, dontcha? That pull."
Killian almost rang the bell at the reception desk, knowing he would need a room one way or another. He raised his hand, ready to ding the bell, suddenly stopping his movements when he thought he heard Emma's voice. Desperate to find her, he turned to look around the entryway, focusing on the sounds-
"But you feel it, dontcha? That pull." He focused in on Granny's muffled voice, moving around the desk to listen to the voices coming from a small door under the stairs, eager to hear her response-
"How did you know that?" He breathed a sigh of relief just knowing he wasn't alone in his feelings- "Yeah.. I feel it. Lot of good it does, he's never coming back."
Killian ran a hand down his face in frustration as Emma continued. "I don't actually know the man, and.. what? I'm supposed to put my faith in some stupid pull?"
Killian wanted to open the door, let her know he was back, how he'd been packed for days, eager to return to her at their previously agreed upon time.. until his replacement backed out last minute. It was a blow to his entire planning process. Killian needed someone to take over his job there so he could stay here, not just visit, and he'd hope Emma would understand-
"Did I tell you he asked me to move in with him? Granny, we're strangers. What kinda man asks that of a perfect stranger?" He gulped at the memory, in the hospital, letting her know he had space for her-
"The kind of man that wants to do right by you?" At least someone was in his corner.
"I don't know that! And I'm still missing six months of my memories, so- what if Neal really is the father? Or some other guy from some other bar?" Killian felt his stomach drop at the notion.
"You just told me you believe Killian is the father."
"I do, but.. a gut instinct, c'mon- and I have no idea what's in those months between my last memory in January and waking up in July."
"You're overthinking this, Emma. The past is the past, no matter what. We can't change it. Understand me?" Killian didn't hear anything, but Emma must have nodded or- "Good, now, do you like this Killian fellow?"
"I guess-"
"Do you feel safe with him?" Killian didn't dare breathe as he waited the eternity it took her to reply.
"Yes." He couldn't help the smile blossoming across his face, warmth filling him from his toes to the mussed hair on his head. He made her feel safe.
"Then you've got to talk to him! Tell him as much as you can about these struggles, figure it out with words, with his help."
"He's not even here! How am I going to talk to him-"
Killian whipped around at the sound of a polite cough emanating from the younger blond woman. She had a coy smile on her face, knowing she caught him red-handed.
"Hi." She was much too cheerful for his liking. "Can I help you?"
It occurred to him that he needed more help than she could give. Like winning Emma's favor.
"Do you work here, lass?"
She shrugged. "Most days. I'm Ashley, the maid, but I wear a lot of hats around here. Do you need a room, or..?"
Killian nodded once, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he took stock of his position behind the desk, forcing his mouth to form some smile he was sure looked more frightening than anything else. Awkwardly, he moved around to switch places with her, taking the correct position of a guest at an Inn.
"Yes, I'd like a room, thank you."
She pulled out an old ledger, flipping through the pages as she spoke. "Forest view, or square?"
"Hmm." He didn't really care. "Square, I should think."
It only took a few moments to pay the lass, exchanging his name and money for an antique looking key. She gave him a wide grin, and he got the distinct impression she wasn't moving until he went upstairs. Not that her actions surprised him in the slightest.
With a grunt, he obliged her silent request to get the hell out, kicking himself for his bad form all the way up the stairs.
"Then you've got to talk to him! Tell him as much as you can about these struggles, figure it out with words, with his help."
Emma felt like she was hitting a brick wall, tossing her head back with a groan. "He's not even here! How am I going to talk to him when I have no phone, I don't have his number- and how the hell could I contact him if he got in a wreck on his way here?"
She stared at the ceiling, not wanting to look at the older woman, just knowing that mom look was glaring hard.
"Emma. This lack of communication may be short lived. You have a choice. You can choose to trust in him, give him the benefit of the doubt- or you can choose not to. It's a gamble, honey, I know. If you choose to trust, and he breaks it.. but there's also the possibility you choose to protect yourself. What if he returns needing your understanding and you've closed yourself off? Emma. Look at me."
Rolling her eyes, Emma used her arms to help pull herself back up, feeling like she was in trouble as she looked at her quasi-Granny.
"Thank you, hun. Your walls keep out pain, I know. But they also keep out love. And love.. it's everything."
Emma nodded to placate her, staring at the empty pie plate on her lap as her thoughts raced. Granny's words struck a chord she couldn't un-ring, bringing with it a mix of emotions that were forcing their way through her wall of numbness. She wanted to believe in Killian, to trust him and let him into her life, but her past experiences with Neal left her guarded and fearful, then there was Gilbert- she felt cursed.
She was so torn, uncertain about what to do, what she could do. She looked up at Granny with tears in her eyes. "I'm scared," she finally admitted in a small voice.
Granny reached across the couch, placing her hand over Emma's knee. "Sweetheart, life is full of risks. Love is a risk, but it's also one of the most beautiful and rewarding experiences in life. I can't promise you that everything will be easy or without challenges, but I can tell you that you deserve a chance at happiness."
The damn woman made tears well up in Emma's eyes. She had spent so long keeping people at arm's length, letting few into her circle, trying to protect herself from pain- but it hadn't worked. She had hurt herself when she pushed away August and Ruby, she'd made a bad call with Neal, and she had no idea what Gilbert even meant to her-
Before him, the last person she actually allowed into her walls was Ruby, though the woman was a force of nature, and that relationship turned out okay. Maybe it was time to take a leap of faith-
Emma opened her mouth to respond when an insistent knock interrupted her, a shout of Granny's name coming through the cracks.
Granny gave her a brilliant smile before turning to the door. "Yes, Ashley, you can come in."
The door opened, revealing the blond sporting a blush brighter than Emma had ever seen.
"Oh. Mygosh, Emma, that man is a snack."
She felt herself perk up. "What? Who?"
Ashley rolled her eyes in the way teens do when something is obvious. "Killian Jones! He just got a room! He's upstairs!"
"Now?" Emma's heart was beating out of her chest.
"Yup." Ashley was giggly, talking in a sing-song tone. "Room 206." She raised her eyebrows awkwardly, attempting a suggestive look that just didn't suit her. Emma grinned at the girl's back as she left, still singing two-oh-six! as she made her way through the building to do.. whatever she did for the bed and breakfast.
Granny reached over, getting Emma's focus back, her smile warm, her eyes glistening with pride. "Can you talk to the man? Be honest with him?"
Emma shut her eyes, internally screaming at herself for the apparent need to retell this story again, only.. to him.. because he was here. It was a relief, washing over her, making her muscles relax and her chest loosen some of its tautness.
He's here.
All she could do was nod, her throat suddenly constricted to a point she didn't feel it was possible to speak as Granny told her to go upstairs.
"Trust is built through communication, and it's time for both of you to open up."
Emma gulped, then nodded, her voice stuck in her throat. She didn't want to get up, though she wanted to see him with her own two eyes, but she didn't want to face him, she didn't want to have this very adult talk she apparently needed to have with him.
The cold chill of the blanket being ripped from her legs made her open her eyes in surprise, her mouth dropping as Granny confiscated the plate in her hands. She openly stared as the woman moved the objects aside, ushering her off the couch, going so far as to pull her up.
Emma had to take a moment once standing to keep her breathing down, but the way Granny was peering over her glasses with her tight lipped smile made Emma painfully aware of how she wasn't going to be able to stall this conversation any longer than absolutely necessary- but standing to ensure she wasn't about to topple over seemed pretty necessary.
She took the few steps up to the little door behind the desk, grimacing as she rounded the corner to stare up the staircase that led to the rooms - one of them housing a certain baby daddy.
Emma took a fortifying breath just to take the steps up, another once she reached the top floor. She reminded herself she was an adult who absolutely had the capacity to be open, honest, and willing to listen. No matter how scared she felt, she knew she couldn't let fear dictate her actions. Not with Killian.. because no matter what happened between the two of them, he was at least stuck with her for the next eighteen years.
She didn't want him to be stuck with her. She wanted him to want her.
The thought nearly kept her from knocking on his door, standing at 206 with her arm poised to knock, without actually doing it. A few moments of composing herself, snapping her jaw closed once or twice, and her bravery spiking for the millisecond she needed to commit to the action of knocking, immediately anxious for his appearance and whatever would happen next.
She had enough of the unknown in her life already.
Her breath caught when the door swung open, Killian standing with an expression of shock.
"Emma," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion. "Are you alright?"
She took another deep breath, melting in his presence, somehow falling into his embrace in the middle of the doorway- and she was instantly good again.
Thank you for reading!