A/N: Hey, FFN, is anyone still reading this here? Anyway, huge shout-out to Jrob64 who betas this. I couldn't do it without you. (i have tumblr art for each chapter, found on my profile cs-rylie)


All Good Things

Emma couldn't help but smile as she stood in the very spot where she first daydreamed about their future when Killian originally brought her to the house. More than a month had passed since that moment, and despite the initial chaos, their new home transformed from an empty shell into a place filled with warmth and love. Her gaze shifted to the fridge, one of the last items to arrive, and she couldn't help but chuckle at how the whole process had frustrated Killian to no end.

And she bit her lip at all the ways she eased his short-lived frustrations.

She looked at the walls, the paint that reminded her of their first few days in the house, painting each other more than anything else, a time of work turned to fun.. which then turned into christening the home for the first time, right there on the living room floor.

They did manage to finish painting, every door and window left open to air the place out, and she looked to the sliding glass doors in memory of the night they moved from their 'bed' of blankets and pillows on the living room floor to a mini staycation right outside those doors. Those were the days when their bed frame was set up, but the mattress still hadn't arrived. Killian went out and bought a tent and an air mattress, and they spent the night making love under the stars. It wasn't long after that, that he surprised her with the outdoor fire pit, fueling the tradition they started in Ireland, rediscovering the simple joy of ending their weekends with campfire grilled cheese and steaming mugs of hot cocoa.

They had traditions now. Not a lot, but the idea made her smile so hard it hurt her cheeks. Friday nights out, Sunday nights at the fire pit, jogging together in the morning before sharing tea.. simple things, routine perhaps, but it was normal. He told her this was where they would settle down, and she was finally starting to believe it.

She picked up her GED book, having already passed the first three tests, now focusing on the math portion. She had done significant research into the local college, finding their enrollment deadline was fast approaching, and her only obstacle was the math test. It certainly wasn't her favorite subject, but the memory of celebrating the previous three tests she passed helped in her motivation to do this one. Little things like going for ice cream, followed by his show of admiration..

She never knew she could crave a man's mouth just as much as any other part of him.

The thought made her grin, encouraging her to take her book and calculator, sitting cross legged at her usual spot on the floor between the couch and coffee table.

She checked the time on her phone before fully committing to her studies, knowing Killian was at his new job and the time he'd likely return to her was only a few hours away. She gulped, still unsure if she should tell him she loved him, but the weight of it felt like it was crushing her. They'd only been married three months, give or take, but she'd never felt more secure - in any situation, let alone a relationship. She'd just never told anyone she loved them before. It felt like everything.

She tried thinking about the best time to tell him. Being the middle of June, the official start of summer just around the corner, the town was throwing a Summer Festival they were planning to attend. It was a stone's throw from their front door, and Killian had even changed shifts with a co-worker to go with her. She gulped at the thought of telling him in a noisy, crowded place like that. It almost felt too impersonal.

She took a deep breath, deciding she'd rather say this very personal thing in a very personal setting, before shoving that distraction out of her mind to focus on her math.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Killian couldn't get his mind off of Emma's DNA sample. She had sent it in approximately six weeks prior, right around the time they were moving things from the boot of her bug, back before the vehicle was finally fully cleared out since their arrival in the States.

He turned his head, checking the cross traffic, before pulling onto their street. He'd purchased a new-to-him truck, something old, but a classic on this side of the pond. It also helped him with his new job at the Ranch on the edge of town. He had chosen that job after finding the harbor and ship related jobs available were not ones he was interested in, but the position of Ranch Hand had piqued his curiosity. Turned out to be a surprisingly good fit, allowing him the physical labor he enjoyed, as well as comradery with fellow men, inundating him with locals he could befriend.

The position also allowed him to take Emma on the trails any time she wished, and she did wish it, often. She enjoyed bringing her camera with them as they rode and discovered new sights, and he was positive she had a million duplicates of the same scenes- but he refused to mention it, as the treks they went on pleased her to no end, which in turn pleased him to no end.

He thought of the palomino Emma had fallen in love with, smiling at the memory, knowing he should be upset that she fell for a horse.. but still hadn't told him of her true feelings. He just couldn't bring himself to feel anything other than pleasure over bringing her joy.

As he drove up to the house, he spotted their mailbox. Such a trivial thing, he thought, but it reminded him of the moment she placed the DNA kit inside, telling him how satisfied she felt at the simple action of closing the hatch. She'd never had a real mailbox before, he discovered, and it was a thing that seemed to add stability into her life.

He shut off the engine, his mind whirling back to the DNA kit and the possibilities that came with it. He was beginning to regret encouraging her to send it in, only because he knew they were finally on solid ground, in a good place- a great place. He knew whatever that kit led to could possibly be a disruptive force- something he did not want for her.

Sighing, he opened the door and stepped out, reminding himself for the umpteenth time that she needed the ties at the other end of the DNA kit in order to fully heal and grow. She was making progress, no doubt, and rapidly now that she was more open and had this stability in her life. He would have to accept whatever disruptive force that came with it, and he would continue to hope for the best case scenario.. though what that could be, he was at a loss.

He wiped his filthy boots on their mat, entering their home moments later. He half expected the sea of cardboard and whirlwind of tape to greet him, though none of it was present anymore, allowing him a sigh of relief as he leaned against the wall to take his boots off by the door. It had been a struggle those first few weeks, endless packages and deliveries - not only from Marcos - as they were moving into the place. There was a moment he wondered if it would ever end, though his wife eased his frustrations greatly with her.. ministrations.

He looked around for Emma, knowing she was likely studying for her final exam, his eyes landing on the tech bag he hadn't opened since before they arrived in this town - their hometown. He shook his head at himself, knowing it was about time to start his work back up. He found a colocation center within a reasonable distance, but had yet to rebuild his cold room servers there.

He'd originally ceased his career to better focus on Emma and the process of moving - it still peeved him to think about how long it took for the electricity to get connected - but those days were all but over. Emma was close to her own goals, and she was about to embark on a new journey of her own. He knew he'd have to keep himself busy as she went to the College classes she was mere weeks away from enrolling in, not to mention padding their bank accounts to ensure they could afford the added expense.

He stood, moving further into their home, spotting her leaning over the coffee table like he had expected. She was as radiant as ever, her focus strong enough not to notice his presence. He smiled at the sight, deciding to leave her alone until after he'd showered off that day's grime and stench of manure.

He made his way up the stairs, smiling when he entered their bedroom - their sanctuary. From the moment the mattress had finally arrived, they made memories here, christening the bed even before sheets could be purchased - a thing they rectified soon after, though the memory of her atop him in a bed of their own never ceased to arouse him.

He had to shake it off, heading into the bathroom as he shrugged off his tee, turning on the water, slowly undressing as it warmed. He thought of the normal life they were beginning to lead, how each day began the same, waking entangled in each other, their morning routines, and the honey-moon phase that had slowed a bit, but hadn't ceased entirely.

Every day, his love for her grew, barely contained by the words he chose to tell her, the Irish words she didn't understand. Mo anam cara, one of the many ways to tell her he loved her in his native tongue, this one specified her as his soul mate - it was how he truly felt about her, that somehow, the universe sent her to him and him to her. He felt their paths were destined to cross one way or another, and he wondered how he may have met her had he been the one to travel, had he been the one to find her in her home city.

It wasn't a stretch of the imagination. He had been wanting to leave his home, find another coast to darken the doorstep of, and her city hadn't been completely off the list of possibilities. He lost himself in his thoughts, for a moment, imagining running into her at a supermarket, or perhaps a park. He may have walked past her bug on the street as she was watching for cheaters in their hotels, or catching someone doing something else nefarious.

Whatever the case, he knew he was meant to find her, to love her, to assist her as she broke herself out of her shell and regained her footing for the path she chose to follow.

He returned to his senses, shaking off the daydream as he stepped into the shower, letting the warm water fall over his skin as he reached for the shampoo, scrubbing the grime away before shampooing again. When he reached for the soap, the opening of the bathroom door caught his attention. He could see his wife through the fogged glass as she closed the door behind her, slowly taking off her shirt that bared her breasts to him. Her beautiful breasts.

His cock twitched in anticipation as she turned her back to him, slowly pulling down her tight yoga pants - she was completely commando under there, baring herself to him as she undressed. His wife was a tease, a brilliant, alluring siren, calling him to the depths of her being-

Wordlessly, she stepped out of the pants, turning to face him, smirking when she took in his slack jaw. He gulped, shutting his mouth with a snap, his mind too muddled to think of much else, other than her naked form as she opened the glass door to join him in the shower.

She leaned up to give him a quick kiss, taking the soap from him as she did. She guided him to face away from her as she lathered his skin with the soap, turning him as needed, covering every last inch of his skin. The very last place she cleaned was his cock, not quite fully hard yet, but well on its way.

She lathered her hands, using them to stroke his cock and balls, letting the water remove the soap from his back and legs. His lips parted as she stroked him, his cock swelling to full mast, as he tried to figure out how to think clearly enough not to cum right here, into her hands as she was cleaning him in the dirtiest way imaginable.

She set down the soap, his signal to rinse off before he turned back to her, bending just enough to taste her lips, the hot cocoa and cinnamon on her tongue, his hands caressing her ass to pull her into him. She lost her footing on the soap residue, both chuckling as he caught her. When he was sure she was steady, he released her enough for her to reposition. She attempted to raise a leg against the wall to open herself for him, but she slipped again.

With a smile, he pulled her to a standing position, moving her half-damp hair, kissing her neck languidly, listening for the little yips and moans she made when he hit just the right spot. He could stay there forever, his hands roaming her imperfect body, feeling her skin heat beneath his touch, just searching for the places that made her want. He moved a hand to her clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles just around her bundle of nerves, teasing, dipping his fingers through her folds to lube them, using her own nectar to rub around her clit.

She moaned, music to his ears, his kiss moving up toward her ear. She turned her head just enough to catch his lips again, panting through the kiss at his ministrations.

He hummed, moving his hand to the back of her head, giving her a kiss that was a little rougher than he intended, before backing away just enough to turn her around, bend her over, teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock. The image of his cock right there against her skin, coupled with the sound of her moans, turned him on so desperately, he had to focus on his breathing to calm himself.

She was enjoying the tease, though, and Killian couldn't contain the lust he had for his wife anymore, giving in, slowly pushing himself into her, a guttural moan escaping his throat at the feel of her tight heat throbbing around him, slick and hot as she hugged his cock. She cried out when he was fully engulfed, whimpering when he refused to move.

He had to blink back the pleasure, hold it off for as long as he could. He guided her to move upright just enough for him to reach her clit, well aware he wouldn't last long, showing no remorse as his fingers rubbed, pinched - everything he learned she liked from their past excursions. His other hand moved to her hip, prepared to ram himself into her, just like she liked it.

When she yeowled, her walls beginning to flutter around his cock, he began to move within her, dragging himself through her wet folds until he was fully out, plunging right back into her, to the hilt. He slowly pulled out, all the way, repeating the motion, using his hand on her hip to hold her still as he thrust in. She raised herself to her toes, changing the angle, causing him to see stars before he was emptying his seed into her, her walls clamped tightly around him as she cried out her own orgasm.

He felt like jelly, the need to crumple strong, but here was not the right place. He had to screw his head back on, pulling her up, turning her to face him. He gave her a deep kiss before she buried her face into his chest- and it felt like home.

She pulled away to look at him, an odd cross of embarrassment and uncertainty darkening her features, a look he hadn't seen in a while.

"What is it, asthore?"

A smile graced her lips for a split second, before her eyes turned downcast. He didn't utter a sound, simply lifting her chin with a hooked finger to bring her gaze back up to his.

"I just-" She started, but ended up blowing raspberries at her own lack of communication. He smiled reassuringly, finding her adorable, fully aware she still got this way from time to time, and the only way forward was through patience.

Her murmured, "I love you," caused him to doubt his own ears. He couldn't quite believe it, though his smile lit up the room as his heart exploded into a million fireworks.

"Mo anam cara," he replied with a twinkle in his eyes, watching her face as her smile made it to her eyes. "I love you, asthore - my treasure."

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Emma blushed as she walked hand in hand with her husband, the heat from their latest escapade still on her cheeks. They made a point to make love three more times after their shower, repeating those three words every moment they could think clearly enough to utter them, and the fluttering in her belly still hadn't gone away from the sheer quantity of orgasms he had coaxed from her.

She was surprised she was able to stand, though she was sure it had more to do with Killian's strong presence next to her than her own fortifications.

The Summer Festival was vibrant. They arrived later than they planned, missing the parade, karaoke, and the reenactment of the pirates who originally settled here - Emma could barely remember the town's name, let alone its history concerning pirates. But the fair games and stalls were still operating, there were sand castle contests, a scavenger hunt - not to mention the boat pulling the inflatable banana and various other water sports.

They had worked up far too big an appetite to care about any of it, making a beeline to the half circle of food trucks that were blocking off Main Street to other vehicles. The influx of tourists and energy was surprising, but she supposed places like this were considered 'summer towns', where the wealthy would come to their summer homes and spend their money on the locally owned shops, or tourists looking for something different that weekend to explore the pirate-themed shores while their kids were out of school.

They had a difficult time deciding which food truck to visit, but their rumbling tummies told them to try the one with the shortest line, which happened to be Hawaiian foods.

She had no idea what she mumbled in her order, but it was a sweet meat with pineapple and rice that she absolutely loved, turning to Killian to thank him for swapping his shift to the morning instead of the afternoon so they could have this.

The look in his eyes was the same one he had when he told her he loved her - a look she already knew, but wasn't sure of the definition, the new knowledge soaking her panties as he looked at her.

Down, girl.

She had to clear her throat as they moved, walking slowly to take it all in. The neon, the ferris wheel, the games - it was a lot, but it wasn't as much as her earlier admission - she had to admit, it turned out better than she thought it could, and she was starting to feel like everything was going to work out just perfectly.

Seeing they had a booth that braided hair, Emma had to sit down and let them work her hair into an intricate twist, followed by Killian's new fake tattoos at the next stall. It was a terrible decision, she decided, as she felt herself heat right back up when she saw the finished product.

The most surprising thing happened when she walked out of the porta potty, slathering her hands with hand sanitizer. She froze when she saw Killian holding a baby - possibly a toddler - hollering around for something. She was so far away that, with the busy fair sounds surrounding them, it was almost impossible to make out what he was saying.

Curiosity forced her forward, in time to hear him asking for the child's parents, practically shouting that a lost boy had been found, in between making the small child laugh.

She was a puddle of raw emotions and want.

She smiled when another man walked up, trying to take the child, but Killian demanded to see photos of the man with the child - he wasn't going to give the boy to just anyone. Emma felt a tug in her ovaries, an odd sensation. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined finding a man worthy enough to give her a child - let alone actually wanting one. The sight of him with that boy, relenting as soon as he saw the strange man's photos (she guessed) she knew in her heart- she wanted Killian's baby.

She didn't say anything as she walked up to him, unsure how to even broach the subject, remembering the days after their wedding and all their serious talks they tried to get out of the way. She barely remembered all that, but it had stuck out in her mind when he said he wasn't ready for children now, (then?) but he wasn't sure about the future.

Instead of overthinking yet another emotional black-hole, she took his hand as they made their way to the games, their competitive sides at war the rest of the night as they nearly took turns winning, though this time, Killian won overall by a hair.

It was late when they returned to their home. They were both drowsy, tired and sluggish, but something about seeing their home through sleep-goggles made her do a double take at a forgotten box in the corner of the living room.

She tapped him with the back of her hand, pointing to the box in a silent question he seemed to understand.

Shrugging his response, he followed her to rediscover the last box standing. He picked it up for her, his chivalry making her shake her head with a chuckle, just giving in to this core aspect of his personality as he moved to place it on the coffee table.

She plopped down next to him, nearly ready to leave it for later, but he was determined to remove the last cardboard from their home, too tantalizing for him to just let it be. She understood that. There was a time their home was made of more cardboard and bubble wrap and random pieces of tape that got stuck to everything, that it was difficult to see the end of the tunnel - it just bothered him more than it had her.

She felt herself wake up as soon as she saw the notebook she instantly recognized - from Ireland. It was the 'pearls of wisdom' the townsfolk had given them at their farewell party, full of blessings and gentle reminders of how to make a marriage work.

Bless you and yours, as well as the cottage you live in. May the roof overhead be well thatched, and those inside be well matched. -Murphy

May your troubles be less, your blessings be more. And nothing but happiness come through your door.

-Amelie

May you both live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live. -Tink

Never go to bed angry! Always kiss her goodnight.. -Oisin

May the road rise up to meet you -Will

Emma was too tired for the emotions that were swelling in her chest. She'd already had a major revelation about herself, and about Killian, when she discovered her desire for a child with him - she was too tired to deal, to hide, to figure it all out. She couldn't read the rest of the notes through the tears trying to escape the confines of her last reserves of stubbornness, but she managed to breathe, keeping herself from exploding from some intense emotion bomb. She just had to keep reminding herself that these gifts had waited long enough.

The first things he pulled out were hand knit Aran sweaters. They both had a unique cable stitch that seemed to weave, something that screamed Ireland. He seemed to know instantly which one was meant for her, handing the longer one over to her waiting hands. It was a deep shade of red, a similar shade to her leather jacket. Someone made this for her, after seeing her in that jacket, the idea tripping her up, causing her stubbornness to weaken further. His was a shade of gray that almost looked blue, reminding her of the Irish sky. He told her it was a fisherman's sweater, which somehow seemed perfect.

The next item was a framed.. something. There was no glass in the driftwood frame, but there were three artfully torn rectangles, each with a painted image that Emma first thought of as a vertical twig with leaves, but upon closer inspection, she realized it was a line with tick marks. The brush strokes made it look leafy, but she felt there was a deeper meaning. Killian quickly explained, these were Ogham words, an ancient Irish alphabet. Each scrap of paper was a different word, the three here were 'faith', 'hope', and 'love'.

Creideamh. Dochas. Gra.

Her fortification was crumbling. All she wanted was to rebuild it, to hang on to her last few bricks of keeping people out, trying to stay strong, just focusing on a place to hang the image without thinking about the meaning or the people who gave it to her - but Killian was already onto the next. Her attention refocused on the gift he pulled out, unwrapping the tissue and bubble wrap. It was a porcelain teapot, hand painted ropes knotted in the colors of Ireland, weaving their way around the teapot, up the handle and down the spout. The next four things were the two tea cups and saucers that matched the pot.

Emma was far too tired to hold the emotions inside, the cracks in her walls causing them to crumple completely, the tears leaking out of her as she started to actually feel the love pouring out of this box, how much she appreciated it, and them, and- Killian took the moment to wrap his arms around her and kiss the top of her head. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. He'd practically beat it into her that he was here.

She felt it, in her heart, right along with the feeling of family she was getting from him, and the people he came from. Those people with their big hearts, who would take an orphan like her and give her a home, a family - love, turning her from an orphan with nothing to a woman with people - even if she didn't want it.

It was overwhelming, and Killian seemed to sense just that, taking the framed Ogham words from her grasp to gently place it on the coffee table, managing to keep an arm around her as he did. Without skipping a beat, he stood while picking her up, carrying her through the home, up the stairs, and onto the bed with a quick kiss and whispers of mo anam cara.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Killian wasn't sure what exactly was going on with his wife. She was throwing herself into everything she had started doing since moving here, though much more vigorously. She crammed every moment she spent at the house studying at the dining table before going to yoga, boxing, or training to be a better horse rider.

She was either trying to process something.. or trying to avoid processing something.

He tried not to mention it, but she was beginning to really worry him as the days slowly slipped into a week, her avoiding any deep discussions - as well as the living room and the gifts that still sat untouched on the coffee table. He himself had begun to fill his time at home with his codes and clients, back to his ways of white-hat hacking, though he managed to do it in the daytime, setting alarms and keeping to a schedule- but none of the money was worth it if his wife wasn't happy.

Was that even the issue?

When she came home from boxing, looking exhausted and bruised, he let her pass wordlessly as she made her way up the stairs, the emotions in him begging to explode outwards as he worried for her health and sanity.

What was in that box that distressed her so?

By the time he heard the water through the pipes, his mind was made, already taking the stairs two at a time. Anger and hurt tried to surface - she didn't trust him enough yet to talk to him, but the need to protect this woman - from whatever her demons were - practically strangled the other feelings as he entered their bedroom, finding it empty. He moved to the bathroom, the steam hitting him like a Summer day at the Ranch in America. Emma was sitting at the bottom of the shower, the water flowing across her skin like she and the water were one.

He began to strip, his own emotions falling to the floor with his clothing, leaving nothing but his heart on his sleeve and his need to protect her.

He braced himself before he stepped into the scalding hot shower, taking a seat on the porcelain floor behind her, pulling her back to his chest, wrapping his arms around her. She let him hold her, snuggling into his chest as she faced away from him, nervously fidgeting with the rings he gave her on their wedding day. The reminder made him smile as the water pelted her skin, turning her pink. He wondered for the umpteenth time how she could stand these temperatures-

"I've never had a family before," she murmured.

Killian closed his eyes, letting his head lean against the shower wall, content to listen if she chose to continue, simply humming a response to show he was listening.

"I learned- I-" He caressed the skin across her belly, just allowing her the silence she needed to think about her words. She took a deep breath. "I learned early on that emotions make you weak. I thought I could never be happy. I thought I had to hide behind this big wall of anger. I forgot what it was like- I never knew what it was like to be loved. And not the romantic stuff, either, the familial love of a parent or an aunt or a meddling grandpa."

He allowed himself a small smile at the vague mentions of people, he suspected, of Old Man Murphy or Amelie.

"All those people in Ireland- they treated me like a daughter. A cousin. You know.. family. I couldn't see it before. It wasn't until we opened those presents and- I could suddenly feel all these things I didn't know I had been blocking because it was always safer that way and- and now I'm safe. Me, and my feelings, and I- I just- I don't know what to even do with emotions." She let out a sad laugh. "I feel like I'm broken."

He shook his head, then realized she couldn't see him. "You were forced to protect yourself, Emma. That meant losing a part of yourself. It's understandable, asthore. Now that you know I can protect your heart, you're beginning to rediscover your true self."

She whispered, "What if I change?"

"So what? Don't we all? Every day we make choices, asthore, and those choices change who we are little by little. Decades later, we cannot see those changes, only the big ones, and we wonder how we got there."

"Yeah.."

He knew what that meant. "You're worried you'll change too much for me." She cocked her shoulder in a lazy shrug, unwilling to fully admit it. "Think you'll turn into an ax murderer?"

She laughed. He hoped she remembered accusing him of that in their post-wedding bedchamber.

"Fat chance of that." He moved to plant a kiss at the top of her head, well aware she was still holding back. There was something else on her mind, but he knew pressing her was not the solution.

"I will always relearn you as you change and grow, and I'll still love you. No matter what."

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

It was hard for Emma to believe this was real love.

There were days when Killian felt like the best friend she never had, teasing her in a way that allowed her to laugh at her mistakes instead of apologize for them, or the feeling of openness, just knowing she could be honest and use her words - even though it was hard, and she still struggled with them.

He did little things for her. From something as simple as doing the dishes when it was her turn, to organizing care packages for her time of the month. She shook her head at the memory, her mortification - she thought she'd hidden the signs and symptoms really well, even scheduling her black clothing so she wore them for more than just her heaviest days- but he knew. The sheepish look on his face was priceless, though, that first time he approached her with a grocery bag filled with an assortment of chocolate treats and indulgent snacks-

She had no idea how he knew. It was almost always a surprise to her when her Aunt Flo showed up, and she thought she had perfected her clandestine routine, her valiant attempt to conceal her time of the month- she'd make a terrible spy.

That day just proved to her how well he understood her. It was the same day he set up the TV, hooking it up so she could grumpily lounge on their new couch with a million pillows and her quilt, eating like a toddler after Halloween without parental supervision. Then, he came home from job hunting, slipped in behind her, and surprised her with takeout tacos before begrudgingly surrendering himself to the romcom she had chosen for the evening entertainment.

That was the week she learned exactly how he liked his blow jobs.

He did a lot for her, those little things. It was why she decided to soap him up while trying to tell him she loved him. She felt like she was slacking in this relationship, feeling like she wasn't measuring up to his level of dedication.

She wondered if he would talk to her if he had a complaint.. Emma was pretty sure he wouldn't hold back, but it was important enough for her to make a mental note to ask him about it later-

She pushed away the GED book, frustrated at herself. Today just felt different, almost wrong, her focus on everything except what she needed it to be focused on.

She checked her phone for the time, noticing he'd be home- any time now. A part of her wanted to go to the library to see if studying there would give her more solace than staying home would, but the other part wanted to wait for Killian. He had a way with numbers, and she knew he could help her with this problem, as well as help her to focus.

She sighed, making her way into the kitchen to make herself a hot chocolate, but the feeling of something wrong persisted. She knew she was imagining things, but she could have sworn everything just felt.. still. She wasn't sure what to make of it. Overactive imagination while being home alone?

She felt unnerved by it, but tried to force it out of her mind as she filled the electric kettle, continuing her plan for a hot chocolate-

But something just screamed at her that something wasn't right. Emma wasn't accustomed to ignoring her gut feelings. Aggravated at herself, she turned off the faucet, let the electric kettle fall the half inch it needed to land in the otherwise empty sink, before she stomped through the living room to open the sliding glass doors-

There was no wind. There was no bird song or chirp. She couldn't even hear the sound of the ocean, and she could see it moving from her position.

Completely unnerved, she checked her ears for the earbuds Killian purchased for her, but she wasn't wearing them, and she wasn't sure what else could explain-

Her head swiveled around at the sound of a shout coming from the front of the house. Her heart stilled as she listened, her eyes growing wide-

Killian.

The thought made her bolt forward, running towards the sound. She felt like she was running in slow motion, not making any progress - eventually, she rounded the final corner, another shout penetrating the air as she did.

She froze at the sight of her front yard. Killian had parked right next to her bug, as he always did, but surrounding him were a mass of people in black suits, a line of blacked-out SUV's trailing down their drive to the main road- guns pointing at her husband.

She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, time still frozen as she stared, trying to take it all in. It was a lot, her thoughts running back to her usual ones- the other shoe to drop, anything that seemed too good to be true always was, all good things came to an end - she gulped, trying to focus on something, anything, her eyes landing on Killian - he was smirking. She sucked in air, mentally questioning his choices, though she couldn't blame him. His cockiness was his defense mechanism, and it was out in full force, staring down the suited man closest to him, staring down the barrel of a gun.

She gulped, trying not to let herself travel back to the night in the alley, trying to push past it. It had been months, months, and this was an entirely different situation - but it felt worse that they were aimed at Killian, and not her.

She'd rather the guns be pointed at her.

The realization was all she needed for her own defense mechanism to kick in, anger boiling just below the surface - but she was torn on who to be angry at. Killian? Did he do something? The group of gun wielders? They were the ones instigating this.. or she could be mad at herself. She let Killian in, she married him blindly, she traveled to his country - all of this was her fault. This was why she never let people into her heart.

But she loved him. This beautiful, cocky bastard- she loved all of him, from his annoying habit of waking up with the sun, to his incessant need to keep things clean, and every little thing he did for her, showing her she was loved too.

Time seemed to speed back to normal, her initial shock replaced with anger little by little, a chorus of voices faded into her consciousness, all shouting the same thing-

F.B.I.

"Stop moving, Jones!"

What. The actual. Fuck.

She had to force the distracting thoughts away. Killian wasn't the villain here. She'd been with him for months. There must be some kind of mistake- and until someone explained it to her, she was going to be pissed off and explosive.

Her gaze snapped to Killian as he bit out the words, his arms held up in surrender as he spoke. "Look, officers-"

"Agents!"

"Agents. I've done nothing wrong, and I'm not moving. Kindly tell me what's the matter, before you give my lovely wife a heart attack."

Suddenly, she felt dozens of eyes land on her, but all she could focus on was Killian and his smirk as he stared down the man with the gun, the one standing the closest to him. It occurred to her that her husband was a fearless badass, but that too was a distracting thought-

"Killian Jones, you're under arrest for illegally hacking into-"

"Bullshit!" She almost jumped at the sound of her own voice, but she straightened up, squaring her shoulders at the same man her husband was staring down.

"Mrs. Jones-"

"Fuck this! He hasn't done anything!"

"Then he won't mind explaining that for himself at our office."

"Lawyer." Killian looked at her then, a quizzical look in his eyes at her shouted word. He'd obviously never seen an American crime show. "Lawyer," she repeated, staring right at him, knowing he could read her - but unsure if he could get the message.

"Mrs. Jones, you're almost to the point of interfering in a federal investigation. Mind your words."

"I'm coming."

"Asthore-"

"I'm coming."

She glared at the scene, watching as the head honcho nodded before he continued to arrest her husband, directing him into the closest SUV.

She watched as the remaining suits filed back into the various vehicles littering her lawn, suddenly wondering if they came prepared for a fight, when she noticed the unfamiliar blue truck parked on the other side of her bug, the far side, a man with graying blond hair standing next to it, arguing with one of the suits.

It was the most normal thing about this afternoon. If it had been normal, she might actually care, or wonder, but with everything else- she was beginning to feel that familiar tug toward numbness. The numbness she had fought to get away from, was still fighting against, but the familiar feelings of abandonment, loss, betrayal, was just at the edges of her consciousness, trying to convince her everything was horrible, all of it a lie-

All good things..


Thank you for reading!
Don't be too mad at me?