querencia

(n.) a place where one feels safe; a place from which one's strength of character is drawn

Chapter 6: Querencia

Swan abruptly awakens. Her eyes open, and she's instantly as alert as if she'd been up for a long time, despite the fact that she expected her first genuine awakening as Swan to be dreadful, that she'd forget who she is once again, that she'd be like when she woke up on the couch. But she has completely changed, feeling more easygoing and tranquil. Despite the fact that she still has no idea who she is, she is filled with fresh memories that warm her heart.

She rolls onto her back and gazes out the window. When she went to bed in the afternoon, all the dull and fatigued light from outside flowed in through the gaps of the lowered blinds, but now only a faint and flickering lamplight slips in. What time is it anyway? Is it tomorrow already? She feels refreshed, but it doesn't really matter because she went to bed early. She was exhausted after her visit to the police station, and when Liam suggested that she get some rest, she accepted without hesitation.

She is still moved by the doctor's kindness to her. He continuously looks at her in a sympathetic, even paternal manner, not with pity, but with... care and concern, which can be attributed to his work, but Swan still feels she is important to Liam. Even the fact that they should go to the police was brought up gently and carefully, and when Swan became anxious, he took her hand in his and gently convinced her that everything would be fine, that they would be by her side and wouldn't leave her alone for a second, but they had to announce her presence or else her family would be looking for her in vain.

Swan understood why this was important and beneficial, yet she hesitated. Something inside her started shivering as soon as she thought about walking out into the cold, and this trembling didn't want to stop. Despite her resolve to be optimistic about everything, she failed in this regard. She's not sure why she glanced at Killian then; perhaps she instinctively clung to the one who had saved her. He returned her gaze with a deep, searching glance, and in a matter of seconds, he understood what was going on within her, because he abruptly rose up, extended his hand to her, and pulled her inside his niece's room. He opened the closet and assured her she could take whatever she wanted and assured her Wendy wouldn't be upset.

Swan was unable to move and simply sank onto the bed. It was as if the cold had crept back into her body as if ice had slowly and chillingly trickled through her veins instead of blood. Killian knelt in front of her and stared up at her.

"Come on, love, this is just another adventure," he murmured softly to her. "We'll look after you; you'll be fine."

Swan nodded, but her gaze was fixed on the hand in her lap, not the man. The frigid air in her body eased when she felt Killian's fingertips on her chin, but her gaze was still hesitant when she lifted her eyes to his.

"Would you like me to assist you with dressing?" He inquired, a crooked smile on his lips, and Swan couldn't help but smile back, despite trying hard to control her facial muscles.

"All right," Killian replied but returned her gaze before exiting the room. "I promise you can throw a snowball at me for every time I've been an arse, so it's worth it, right?"

Swan was already smiling heartily with this remark. While getting dressed she thought about what would happen if her family, friends, or anybody who knew her and knew where she lived showed up after the police report. Then she'll have to go since she wouldn't have any reason to stay there any longer.

Her heart aches just thinking about it. It maybe because she has no other "home," but she feels at ease here. Liam and Killian are no longer strangers to her, but whoever comes looking for her will be. She knows this is not a nice thought, and she is ashamed of it, but she finds it difficult to conceive that someone might arrive out of nowhere and whisk her away from here, back to a life she has no knowledge of.

Swan shakes her head, refusing to focus on matters over which she has no control over. Even though she was hesitant to go out, she had a good time. The snow was only lightly drifting, and the locals had made the sidewalk passable, so walking was simple. Granny wrapped her arm around Liam and they lined up to the front, forcing Swan to go next to Killian, without trying to be inconspicuous (she even winked at them!).

They had to come to a halt several times because the children enthusiastically greeted Granny and the doctor on their walk to the station; in fact, once Granny even assisted in the construction of a snowman because the little girls called her so sweetly that Swan herself asked the old lady to help them, even if they arrived at their destination a little late.

In any case, she was content standing in the snow, owing to the fact that she was already holding Killian's hand. He held her arm and helped her regain her balance when she stumbled earlier. Then, of course, she let go, but when she was about to fall for the second time, he merely gripped her hand, sending chillingly wonderful feelings through her body.

"You don't want a concussion on top of everything," he mumbled as if trying to avoid the impression of kindness, despite the fact that what he did, the way he held her hand, the way he looked at her, was quite sweet.

Swan gives the ceiling a sheepish look as she recounts the scene, wondering where her comments came from once more.

"I don't think my brain cares right now," she remarked nonchalantly as if she didn't need to think about it.

Killian gave her a startled glance before softly chuckling. Swan felt his laughter all over her body, melting her and filling her with delight, even when Granny nudged Liam and said loudly how wonderful it was to hear the boy laugh again (despite the fact that Swan believes Killian is a true man in every small movement and detail).

Swan sighs. She recalls everything Granny said, which she didn't take seriously at first, despite the fact that the old lady is adamant that she would be the mother of his children, and it's rather perplexing, especially because they hardly know each other.

Swan has taken a liking to Granny, which may explain why she is already terrified of disappointing her.

She understands that attraction is not the same as genuine, deep feelings. Yes, Killian and she are attracted to each other, and they may even like each other, as much as two people can like each other after spending so much time together, but they are still a long way from love.

Even if she feels comfortable with Killian if she enjoys hanging out with him if she finds his grumpiness adorable, which she wouldn't tell him even in exchange for her memories. She also likes it when Killian glances at her with true and unmistakable admiration, and even when he makes witty remarks. There's something enigmatic about him, that whimsical unpredictability that makes her feel precisely what he said about her: that he's a riddle waiting to be unraveled. He's prickly, distant, and occasionally tight-lipped, but he's also attentive and caring, even if he tries to hide it, something Swan doesn't understand.

She wonders what he is doing now. He's most likely sleeping. What does he look like when he's dreaming? Swan wishes to see him. Killian's room is just across from hers, but she'd never be bold enough to walk in, and it's unlikely she'd see anything in the dark anyway. Then again, what does she have to lose? He's probably sleeping and he would be none the wiser. She will only take a glance. She just wants to see him while he's sleeping, when his face is smooth and peaceful.

Swan creeps out from beneath the blankets and reaches the door.

Slowly and cautiously she pushes the doorknob, then slips out. The house is completely black, but some weak light from outside helps her make out the shapes. Killian's door is only a few feet away, but the parquet floor cracks at her first step. Swan freezes. She stays still and holds her breath for a few seconds, but she doesn't hear anybody else's presence, so she realizes with relief that she is most likely the only one who finds the otherwise insignificant sound disturbing.

She lingers in front of his room for a second, after all, it's not polite to watch someone in their sleep without their consent, but her curiosity is stronger. She has no idea what she hopes for or how much he will differ while sleeping, but it makes her want to see him even more.

She moves her palm to the chilly doorknob and carefully pushes it down, then slowly forces the door inward even further. Her heart seems to be throbbing in her throat, and she is scared to breathe at this time.

"What are you up to, Swan?"

She screams and pushes herself against the wall next to the door, clutching her hands to her breast. She takes a deep breath, then another, and shuts her eyes, but the rapid racing of her heart does not stop.

"Are you alright, love?" Killian takes a step closer to her, and she can hear the concern in his words.

If only he'd known she was about to watch him sleep! But what is he doing in the living room, in complete darkness? Why isn't he sleeping like any other normal person at this hour?

"I…" Swan sighs, wondering what to do next. "I just woke up and..." it's true so far.. "I've already slept a few hours and..." still true. "I have to pee," she blurts, albeit the latter is almost certainly a lie. It's her first lie, and it makes her flush a bit, but Killian probably won't notice, and if he does, she hopes he'll put it up to discussing peeing in his company. Her panties have been discussed multiple times between the two of them, maybe he won't think too much into it.

He stares at her for a while but fails to note the obvious fact that the bathroom is in the exact opposite direction from his room. Swan watches with bated breath, waiting for Killian to corner her and force the truth out of her, but he simply shakes his head, turns his back on her, and walks back into the living room. Swan follows him – she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep after all this, and she's curious about what he's doing out there anyway.

Killian sits in one of the armchairs (Swan realizes that's why she didn't notice him, not that she looked around carefully anyway), and she settles down on the couch opposite him. She pulls her legs up and then hugs them. Her heart is still racing faster than normal and she's quite confused, so she doesn't dare to look at him even though she can feel his eyes on her.

It may be minutes before she gathers herself enough to slowly turn her head towards him. Killian studies her intently, a faint smile on his lips. Swan stares, though it makes her heart beat faster again. How could a man with so much strength and depth look so softly at her? How can he get her stomach to churn every time she looks at him?

Swan has seen other males on the road and at the police station, and she honestly thinks Killian is superior to any male she has ever encountered. Well, it's not like she's met a sea of men, but she can now probably say she isn't biased. For example, the police officer that welcomed them was just as attractive as Killian. But Swan felt nothing in his presence, even if his features were not as rigid and harsh, and his eyes did not shine as coldly. She didn't feel anything around any other man, even though they all looked at her with interest. After all, what happened to her was weird and uncommon, and Storybrooke isn't a huge town, so anything new has major gossip value, as she learned from Granny.

She was first concerned that everyone would stare at her, but she eventually resolved to ignore the curious, occasionally invasive looks. She was focused on Killian's hand as he squeezed hers, and in the police station, she was focused on answering every question they asked—not that she had much to say about herself or what had happened. Killian and Liam spoke far more than she did.

As they walked out of the police station, Killian took her hand once again. Neither of them spoke on their way back, and that was fine. Swan was exhausted from attempting in vain to recollect her memories in response to the questions presented; in fact, despite her fear of forgetting everything again, she went to bed right away.

But now she's tense because they're not talking because the night is getting denser and heavier with each breath, because the silence between them is becoming more and more compact and impenetrable, and because Killian appears to be moving away from her with every blink - perhaps that's why she feels the need to ask a very stupid question, but still does.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" She glances at him, and the light from outside allows her to see him well.

Killian gives a lazy smile. That smile tells her he understands why she started talking.

"I'm not used to going to bed before midnight."

"Why?"

"Because of the theater. The late-night rehearsals, the performances. It's a whole other world, "Killian closes his mouth, but she can sense a longing in his voice as well as indifference.

Swan gives him a serious look. Does she dare to ask? Killian made it plain in the afternoon that he didn't want to talk about it, but that may be because he didn't know how. At worst, he'll dodge the subject once again, and Swan will know not to ask it again.

"Why don't you create music anymore, Killian?" She inquires quietly. Her voice is devoid of nagging, but also of interest. The question is more of an invitation to him to listen if he so desires.

Killian doesn't meet her gaze, but his features harden, becoming colder than ever. Swan looks at him, sees his fight, and senses the instant he gives up because his gaze is filled with silent sorrow. A bitter and overwhelming pain that he wanted to suppress. Has all this been there in the depths of his gaze?

Swan feels that his pain covers not only her, but the entire room; it drowns out the darkness and stillness, and it prevents anybody else from existing but her. How does Killian live with it? Does he carry this with him all the time? How can he bear this?

She should say something, reach out to him before this agony takes him fully before it destroys him.

"Killian," Swan whispers.

"I don't... I don't have music anymore," Killian mutters. The words ring incessantly hollow. "Without music, I don't know who I am. I'm not sure who I am," He repeats in a soft, drifting voice.

"That feels familiar," she mutters.

"I haven't even told this to my brother. Not even Granny, even though she probably already knows "Killian says, his eyes wide with wonder. "I haven't told anyone."

Swan gives him a compassionate glance. She senses Killian's perplexity, but by demonstrating that he, too, is imperfect, she views him as stronger. Maybe it's because she gets what music means to Killian without having to explain it to her, and with that, she realizes that he has nearly lost everything. Exactly like her. They don't have anything else but a life they don't know how to live.

"Killian, thank you for saving me; I haven't said it yet, but I'm truly thankful," Swan adds, praying with herself for the statement to restore Killian's mocking calmness. She has an instinctive feeling that Killian is not the kind of soulful type, that he rarely opens up to anyone, and that this was enough at one point. She feels that now they have to talk about something else in order not to hurt the man with sympathy that he will probably misinterpret for pity, and that he certainly doesn't need. In fact, he'd probably regret being honest, and Swan wouldn't want that. She is grateful that he even trusted her enough to tell her this.

Killian thanks her for the change of subject with just a flash of gratitude in his eyes, but that's enough for her.

"Of course, love."

He looks at her calmly for a few seconds before breaking into the well-known crooked smile.

"Don't you have to pee?"

"I lied," Swan admits openly. She doesn't like that she wasn't honest, she can still feel the bitterness of the lie in her mouth.

"I know," Killian gives her a knowing look. "How about watching a movie and binge-eating? The pantry is fully stocked with snacks and I even let you choose the movie."

"Do you like watching me eat that much?" Swan asks playfully.

There is warmth in Killian's eyes, and this time there is no sarcasm in his smile. Swan feels that he is different now. It was as if letting a sight into his soul had alleviated the tension that had been enveloping him until now, albeit she is just now recognizing this. Killian is a lot more at ease now that she had a glimpse into his soul. Was he always like this before he lost the music?

"No, I enjoy seeing you experience life."

Swan blinks in confusion.

"Why?"

He shrugs, and she already thinks he won't answer when he does.

"Because through you, it's like I'm rediscovering myself."

Their eyes lock, and Swan feels that something has changed between them in the last few minutes—maybe they've become friends.