There was only one small window in the bedroom area of the boat where Killian and Emma were spending their honeymoon. A thin film had been placed over it by some previous owner to distort the light from being so intrusive and give a better illusion of privacy. With Emma curled against his side her long, bare leg thrown over him possessively, Killian stared at the porthole like window for a while and wondered how on earth he had managed to marry the one woman who was a perfect complement to him. Tilting his head just inches, he rubbed his stubble covered jaw against the silky tresses of her tangled hair and, letting his eyes fall shut to the sounds of her breathing melding with the choppy waves against the wooden planks of the boat and dock.
They had sailed south of Storybrooke, enjoying the small coastal town they had found on Saturday. While the amorous activities of their honeymoon had been exhaustingly plentiful, they had found time to stroll about the fishing town and peek in the shops before sipping wine and eating pasta at the quaint bistro that served as a perfect backdrop with checked table clothes and dripping candles. Emma had seemed so light and carefree as she scooted closer to him and twice admired her wedding and engagement ring in the low light as if she couldn't believe they were really on her long elegant fingers.
His one regret was that she had requested something Asian for dinner. The line at the town's one and only Thai restaurant was out the door with an estimated wait of nearly two hours. She had joked that she wasn't that hungry for it and kissed him sweetly when he had suggested the alternative of Italian. Still, he felt as if he had failed by not providing her sincerest wish.
Carefully pulling his right arm out from under her, he grabbed his phone off the side table that was built into the wall. It was only 10:30 and not too late for wishes, he reasoned as he typed in the memorized name of the establishment and with his voice barely a whisper ordered a few of her favorite dishes. It would be way too much, and would garner protests. But he could see it in his mind's eye that her protests would be matched with a smile as she dug into the treat. The biggest struggle was detangling himself from her without waking her before the food arrived. For a moment he feared he had failed as she fluttered her eyes and made a soft noise before burying her nose into his pillow. With the blankets piled on her, he searched in the dark for the thick cable sweater and jeans he had been wearing earlier. Finding a few of her garments strewn about as well, he placed them at the foot of the bed before climbing up to meet the delivery driver.
Knowing his wife, Killian waited patiently as the scent of the prawns, noodles, and veggies tickled his nose. He gulped at the ginger beer that he knew she loved and had been sure to order as well. When he had finished it and she had not appeared, he descended the ladder clumsily, the bag of food under his arm and making his descent even trickier. He managed to set the table before he heard her moan and the bed creak as she must have realized his absence.
"You better have a good excuse," she said, emerging from the small room into the galley. She had ignored the clothes he had set out and wrapped herself in the soft green blanket that had been washed so many times that its still thick material felt of summer cotton rather than stiff wool. She tied it off at her chest and let the fabric flow as if she were wearing a gown for a ball, though her thick socks were not exactly matching the elegance. "You're the one who talks about good form and all that. I don't think it's good form to leave your wife alone in bed on your honeymoon."
Lifting the dish of pad thai, he lifted a single eyebrow as if he had just given a full explanation. Not surprisingly she grinned widely at the addition and dove for him. He had to juggle to place the dish down before she dislodged it with her embrace. "I wasn't sure if you…"
"I never turn down Thai," she said, rising up on her toes. "Or you for that matter. Best of both right here." The tip of her nose traced along his jaw. "Have I told you I love you today?"
Pulling his head back, he smiled at her sweetly and tightened his arm around her waist. "A few times, my love, but I'm always apt to hearing it more often. Should we dine in here or…"
"Bed?" she asked with a grin. "Might be a little messy, but it's comfy."
"And you certainly are dressed for it," he teased, kissing her soundly before handing her a plate. "Go before you freeze."
She snagged a few of the ginger beer bottles and winked as she glided back to bed. By the time he arrived with the rest of the food, she was already settled among the blankets and sheets, balancing her plate on bent knees. Her long hair was pushed back over her shoulders and he was eyeing the largest prawn with a look of hunger and delight. "You are a wonderful husband for this, by the way. How did you know I still wanted this?"
Her mouth was full as she reached over to help him with the rest of the food so he could more easily get back in bed after shedding the sweater. "Your stomach may have growled a time or two, but I also know you."
"I didn't know you heard my stomach," she said, pretending to hide behind her free hand with feigned embarrassment. It was an unnecessary gesture given her state of undress. "I tried to cover it up with a well-placed moan or two."
He chuckled, inspecting his own food before answering. "You wound me. I may have to be insulted by that. I thought those moans were the direct result of my attention to you." He lifted a particularly fat prawn and moved it toward his mouth before switching course and offering to her. She eagerly bit into it and let out a loud moan as her eyes rolled back.
"Definitely all your doing."
***AAA***
David's wife also had requested a late evening snack of sorts, but her request was for salt and vinegar potato chips that the hotel did not carry for room service. Donning a warm outfit he had thought would be in the suitcase until the next day, he headed out to the parking lot to warm his truck and scour the mountain town for a store that would still be open and carrying the item that she swore she didn't need but couldn't quit talking about either.
He had only been gone for a few minutes when she heard the soft and then loud knock at the door. Assuming it was him having forgotten his keys, Mary Margaret opened the door with a bemused expression and waited for his sheepish reply. Instead she got Ruby looking flushed and agitated with a bottle of wine cradled in her arms like a small child. "So I was at the bar," she announced, waltzing in and ignoring the pregnant friend. "And guess who was there." The tall beauty stooped toward the room's mini bar and plundered for a moment. "Where the hell is your cork screw?"
Mary Margaret cradled her growing belly in her hands and stared incredulously at her friend. "I know you're not asking me that. I'm pregnant. I can't drink." She paused waiting for Ruby to catch on. "Why would I need a cork screw?"
Ruby flung her chestnut curls over her shoulder indignantly. "I don't know. Maybe David needed it." She scrunched up her nose. "I'm a terrible friend who isn't thinking."
"You're a great friend. And as for David, he's more of a beer guy than wine. Why don't you just tell me why you're here?" Mary Margaret gestured toward the two chairs near the window. While Ruby and her grandmother had reserved a suite for the weekend, something where Henry could have his own room and Ruby didn't have to be quite so careful about coming in late, Mary Margaret and David were in a standard room that boasted none of the finer luxuries. The teacher reminded them that she was planning on starting her own school, preparing for a baby, and saving for a house – none of which afforded them much room in the budget.
"Oh right, so I went to the bar because you remember that guy who was fighting with one of Tamara's friends…well, so they broke up and I thought maybe he'd be interesting to talk to." She rolled her eyes and placed the wine bottle she was carrying on the table between them. "I'm not planning to cheat on Graham. It was just going to be conversation. Except he was kind of gross. He had all this product in his hair and his sense of humor was bordering on harassment…anyway…"
"Ruby? Do I need to be here for this?"
"Tamara came in the bar with some guy." Ruby waited for full realization to hit her friend as she tapped her tongue on the roof of her mouth impatiently "Seriously…as in Tamara. The bride…"
"Is she still the bride? Because they called off the wedding." Mary Margaret considered this for a moment as her friend grew more agitated. "So wait…she's got her boy toy here?"
Nodding with exaggerated slowness, Ruby smiled brightly. "Yup. His name is Greg. They've been dating for a while. Neal was the rebound and then she got back together with Greg. It's all very 90210."
It wasn't the most polite thing to do to talk about a failed wedding attempt and relationship, but that's what David found the two doing. He had to laugh at the childish way they sat in the oversized chairs, Ruby drinking wine thanks to the corkscrew he found and his wife noshing on chips and drinking sparkling water. He stayed for a bit and then excused himself to go and check on Henry. He and Granny took the boy to the hotel's arcade (a small room with about four games), reassuring him that the failed wedding was not his fault at all.
***AAA***
Liam pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and squinted toward the muted television that was broadcasting some infomercial about a vacuum that would pick up a bowling ball apparently. They had been watching a cooking competition earlier, something where the contestants were challenged with baskets of unrecognizable ingredients that made Elsa shudder in his arms and wrinkle her nose adorably. He wasn't even sure who had won the last battle since he'd felt his eyes growing heavy about the second round of judging, promising only to shut them for a few moments during the commercial break.
"What are you doing?" he muttered. His hands flailed against the blanket she had placed over him. Not looking a bit tired, Elsa was curled up at the opposite end of the l-shaped sofa with her laptop perched on her bent legs and her long, white blonde hair, wrapped in a thick braid over her left shoulder. She was still wearing an oversized shirt boasting the name of a rock band he had seen a few years ago and knee high socks that on most would look decidedly unsexy.
"Going through the pictures," she answered, turning the computer to face him. "I was thinking we could frame a few and place them around the house for Killian and Emma. Sort of a welcome home gift."
"Not much of a honeymoon. That bastard father of mine seems to ruin everything, including his son's own…" He stopped, noting the three lines that appeared between Elsa's eyes as she stared at the computer again. "Sorry, darling. I know you don't like my flying off the handle like that."
"I've seen worse," she answered, flipping to the next photo and tilting her head to study it. "I know you want to blame your father for everything, but did you realize that your brother is really very happy?" She turned the computer again and showed him the photo she'd just pulled up. It was a quiet moment before they were taking the "official" photos. Killian's arms were wrapped around his bride's waist, his chin tucked near her shoulder. He was clearly whispering something in Emma's ear, her own expression filled with glee and humor as she tilted her head back and her mouth open in a laugh. A smile played at his lips and unlike Emma his eyes were wide and watching her with love and admiration that was unchecked.
"They deserve more than a few days on a leaky boat in late autumn. They should be in the Caribbean or Hawaii, a secluded place where they might get a real honeymoon without this blasted surgery looming over them."
"And if they want that, they will get it. I think it's romantic what they did. And to be honest, it is their style." She closed the lid on the laptop to set it aside. "I know you like to be in charge. It's that older sibling thing. I'm the same way. I am constantly telling Anna what to do and how to do it. But the truth is that she can take care of herself. And so can Killian."
"Sometimes I have my doubts that he can do so properly."
With the laptop set aside, Elsa scooted closer to her boyfriend. "You think it's a bad idea for him to have the surgery." It wasn't a question. She knew he was struggling with it. While Killian had not announced his final decision, the writing was on the wall. The rushed wedding, shortened honeymoon, and a few other details screamed that he was putting his life in order for surgery and convalescence.
"Should anything happen to Killian in this, I won't forgive Brennan. Ever."
"I don't know the man, but I doubt he would forgive himself."
***AAA***
Emma climbed the ladder with an oversized mug of coffee in her left hand, a feat that she had nearly perfected on their occasional trips on the boat. Her favorite sweater, the one she wore when she wanted to feel warm and comfortable, was somewhere down below, the victim of an overly amorous husband who had very little use for keeping her clothing intact, she had learned. After half an hour of straightening up, she wasn't quite sure where it had landed.
"We're almost home, love," he announced, not turning to face her as he adjusted the sail that he had said was always giving him trouble. Once he had tightened the knot and inspected his work, he felt her arms go around his waist and her chin dig into his shoulder. "You didn't have to come up yet. I would have called to you when we were about to dock."
"Do we have to go back?" she asked, sighing as he snagged the coffee from her and took a long sip before securely placing it back in her hand. "Because I'm not really feeling the whole going back to work tomorrow thing at all."
"It was a rather short honeymoon," he mused, his eyes drooping as if he might not be able to stay awake much longer. She loved that sight, him relaxing and their breathing matching in short little puffs. "Perhaps we should take another. Me, you, a beach somewhere warm, rum, you in a skimpy little bikini…"
"Drinks with little umbrellas, coconuts, you in swim trunks, I'm kind of digging the sound of this." She hummed out what she thought was a tropical tune in his ear. It sounded more like the theme to Gilligan's Island, which he would probably tease her about later. "But I do miss Henry."
"Aye, the lad's probably got quite the tale to share with us once we dock." He turned to face her, pausing to let her warm herself with a healthy gulp of the hot coffee. "And there's no rule that we must stop our private celebrations of our wedding."
She grinned over the rim of the cup and took another long sip. "Good thing I'm drinking in the caffeinated stuff. I think you're planning to keep me awake."
"Honeymoons aren't supposed to be relaxing." He waggled his eyebrows for effect. "Besides, I can't help that our accommodations were small and you are always irresistible, my love." His eyes roamed over her, studying and committing to memory the way she swayed and the way she kept having to tuck back that same bit of hair behind her ear.
She bounced up onto the balls of her feet and kissed him soundly before digging one arm under his jacket. "Do you think it will be different? Being married I mean."
"I rather think it will be similar but just about perfect. I can't quite believe that you are my wife now."
"Then I guess I'll just have to keep reminding you." She punctuated that thought with another brief but solid kiss. "I love you, Killian."
"And I you." Craning his neck back to better look at her, he frowned. "Where is your jacket, love? You'll freeze out here in that." That was one of his soft blue shirts, a pair of her own jeans, and a wool blanket over her shoulders from his supply closet.
"I missed you," she said with a grin, tucking herself in closer to him as he made tsk noises and made room for her within his own jacket. "And I know you. You always try to take care of me."
"I seem to recall you arguing with that idea and wanting to take care of yourself," he reminded her. "Is that now negotiable?"
"Case by case basis." She dug her fingers into the flannel of his shirt, softly worn and washed to the point that it almost felt like velvet. "If I'm going to rely on someone to take care of me sometimes, it's definitely you. So I know we said no practical talk on our honeymoon, but have you…"
"Emma…" His voice came out as a warning, a note that he was not ready to discuss more than frivolous little things over glasses of wine and between long, lazy kisses. He knew what she was asking though, as the unpenned deadline of his decision loomed boldly in front of him. She wanted to know if he would be going ahead with the surgery, risking his own life for that of his father. She had a right to know. "I…"
"You don't have to actually say the words," Emma said, trying a technique that had worked on Henry before when she wanted him to admit something. "You can just answer if you are keeping your appointment with the doctor?"
He huffed, his eyes studying her upturned faced. "I know you are worried, Emma. I am too. But I feel that I must do this. I must offer him this chance."
She nodded almost imperceptibly. "You're a good man. You know that, right?"
"I'll remind you that you said that when you complain about my cold feet in bed or my grumpiness over some football friendly that didn't end as I thought it would." His smile was a bit weak, but he looked almost as if he was confident in his decision.
"I'll let all those things go without me complaining too much if you promise me you'll be careful. I want my husband back as soon as possible. Got to admit I'm not a big fan of the idea of you in the hospital." She shimmied her shoulders a bit as she snuggled even closer. "Just so you're aware, I plan to spoil you while I nurse you back to health. You're getting the best food that Granny's has to offer and then some. I'll tuck you in bed. I can even manage a few massages when you're getting stir crazy."
"I don't think I'll object to any of that, love. I enjoy our time together even if we are doing nothing more than this." His head came to rest atop hers before he slid his lips to her temple, cheek, tip of her nose, chin, and then mouth. The sound of the brisk breeze snapping the sails and water lapping against the sides of the boat echoed within her soft sigh as she returned the kiss.
***AAA***
The next morning Elsa stirred her tea and flipped her white blonde hair back over her shoulder so that it fell down her back. It was still early yet, the faint traces of light barely breaking through the clouds that hung low over the trees near their condo. Taking one sip and then adding a bit of honey to her mixture, Elsa watched as Liam seemed to pace as he fumbled with the rust colored tie that hung limply around the white collar of his shirt.
"You're nervous," she surmised, barely recognizing the reaction from the man she loved. She waved him over with her left hand, the right still holding her mug. "Come here, let me do it."
He yanked on the silky material and wadded it in his hand. "I bloody don't want to do this."
Clicking her tongue atop her mouth, she raised off the stool she had been perched on and rescued his tie from wrinkling. "Liam, this is important. You know that. Your brother…"
"Killian, that's who my brother is, not that sniveling little…" He stopped as she placed a finger over his mouth. His pursed lips brushed the pad of it as he waited for her to correct him as he knew she would.
"He's your half-brother and we have to deal with this. We can't pretend he doesn't exist. It's not fair to you, to me, to him, or to Emma and Killian who are basically stuck in the middle of all this."
He was still grousing as she looped the tie around his neck and expertly completed the knot before smoothing her hand over it. In a single move he caught her hand and brought it back to his lips where he placed a series of kisses. "I'm doing this for you, darling, so that you might feel safe again."
She frowned, which seemed to confuse him. "Do it for you," she said softly. "I don't want to be the reason you cut someone out of your life or walk away from family you have said yourself you wish you had more of on more than one occasion. He's barely an adult. He could lose his father. And as wrong as it is, as much as it isn't anyone's fault, he blames you for not wanting to help. You can understand that."
"He tried to kill you," Liam reminded her, the color darkening on his face. "And would have succeeded…"
"He didn't succeed."
"Thank all that is holy," Liam muttered, turning about 45 degrees and then back again to quickly kiss her, stealing away the gasp of surprise at his speed. "If that little prat so much as looks at you wrong today, I'll be buggered if I let him receive only a slap on the wrist."
She accepted his somewhat of a compromise and admired his backside view as he walked away to find his suit jacket that she had laid out for him. He was being as brave as he could be, she supposed, recognizing the anger as part of that. Returning to her stool and testing to see if the temperature of the tea was still right, she took a long draw of it before calling out to him. "I didn't want to disturb Emma last night, but are they coming to the hearing today? I can't believe they only got a weekend honeymoon."
"No," Liam answered, popping his neck and then waving his arms about as if trying to decide if the jacket he had just worn on Friday still fit. "Killian's going to be doing his tests at the hospital today. Emma was planning to work unless you need her there?"
Elsa shook her head and touched her fingers to the pearl earring dotting her lobe. "I was just curious. So your brother is definitely…"
"Aye, the wanker is going to actually give part of his body over to that father of ours. Can't say I'm surprised or happy, but I understand. Or at least I'm trying."
***AAA***
The honeymoon was sweet, romantic, and way too short, or so Emma said to the eighth person who asked her about it when she returned to work that Monday and awaited Killian's call from the hospital. They had sailed down the coast a bit and anchored in a quaint little town where they feasted on seafood, took quiet walks while bundled up in coats, and drank wine as they talked about nothing and everything all at once. She left out some of the more intimate details, not wanting to taint her own memories of them with enthusiastic questions, whistles, and knowing looks. Killian actually helped with that, having breakfast from Granny's delivered, an overabundant array that she shared with a few of her co-workers. It reminded her distinctly of their early dating days.
The one discussion she was still keeping to herself was Killian's decision to go ahead with the surgery. He'd looked at her with a sadness and resignation that seemed to ask if she would try to talk him out of it. She hadn't. It was his decision, which she intended to support despite her own fears about the outcome. And if things didn't go well, she didn't want her memories to be infected with selfish pleas for him to reconsider. She was proud of him, knowing that he was doing this with no guarantees or promises that he would have a relationship with his father. He was doing it because he was a good man who knew that he would hate himself if he hadn't at least tried.
"Is Henry doing well?" Regina asked before sending her off to find out about the latest request for Elsa to perform. While the question might have been out of place by most bosses, Regina had been at Neal and Tamara's mess of a wedding attempt that had ended with a screaming match over the revelation that Tamara had been seeing another man not all that discretely. "He seemed fine with your friends dragging him out of the ceremony."
"He is fine," Emma offered, cradling a few files in her arms against her chest. Knowing that Killian was facing surgery this week, she was in a hurry to get as much done as possible before taking another stretch of time off. "Mary Margaret said he was more concerned over his father having to return all the gifts and how they would ship some of them back."
"Practical child," Regina said. "He's very good with Roland and seems to be a wonderful... I just wanted to make sure…"
"Thanks. But like I said, he's fine and anxious to be back at school with all his friends," Emma said, ducking out into the hallway and back to her office before it got even more awkward. Regina was her boss, not a friend. And it was strange to try to be chatty with a woman who was known to have outbursts of anger about things that Emma felt were a professional courtesy. Yes, she'd been at Emma's wedding but other than a quick congratulations they had hardly talked.
Besides Henry was doing well. He had taken the broken engagement of his father in stride and even expressed condolences to the man before Mary Margaret and David hurried him back to Storybrooke with promises of a movie marathon and binging on all his favorites. Granny and Ruby said they both bit their tongues over the entire scandal, but Henry had not seemed any worse for it. They hadn't even called Emma until she and Killian returned late Sunday evening. So she had not had the opportunity yet to have called Neal herself, but knew that his father, stepmother, and others were rallying around him after the betrayal. Her sympathies might come off a bit false given her own recent wedding and current state of bliss, but she would eventually say something.
"Ms. Swan…I mean Mrs. Jones, you have a call on line three," the receptionist's voice came through the intercom. Emma had not even thought about the whole name thing very much. Most people called her by her first name anyway. Keeping her eyes on the screen where her notes about a contract proposal were sitting, Emma fumbled for the phone and lifted it to her ear.
"Are you having as frightful of a time concentrating today as I am?" Killian asked after she said hello. "It's bloody torture because all I can think of is my lovely wife and how much I would rather be with her."
She fell back against her seat and smiled widely picturing him talking low into his phone in some quiet corridor. He'd been wearing a blue sweater that morning, the richness almost as alluring as his eyes. "I'm lucky I don't have that problem," she said saucily. "Maybe you should call your wife on her cell instead. Don't you know it's a bad idea to breathe heavy on a work line."
He chuckled, even the through the phone filling her with warmth. "Would that I could, my love. But my lovely wife was so distracted giving me another one last kiss this morning that she left the phone on the counter in the kitchen. So I am holding it close to my heart right now."
She stared at her coat that she had slung across the guest chair in her office earlier that morning. The tell-tale sign of her phone was absent from its pocket. "Damn it," she muttered. "I need that phone."
"Aye, I'll bring it by for you in a bit. Perhaps we could share a little lunch while we were at it."
She knew that would be a bad idea for her motivation and her self-control, yet the idea was tempting. She told him as much. "Maybe some place public so that I don't do anything too distracting."
"Sounds like a plan, as I'm not sure I'm a strong enough man to resist your charms for too long anyway." The sounds of the intercom and people talking could be heard around him, as well as dinging elevator.
"How's your father?" Emma asked, knowing that he was not going to be as carefree and soft with his answer. "Did he get transferred…"
"He's in a private room here at the hospital," Killian explained. Once he had agreed to have the surgery everything seemed to be moving rather quickly. So far the teacher had been poked and prodded within an inch of his life as his father went through similar tests in another room. They had only seen each other for a few moments, which Killian preferred. The younger Liam was expected that afternoon.
"Any word on…"
"Should know more this afternoon. They wanted to test my blood again, see about my records from how fast or slow I healed after losing my hand, and even had me hooked up to a heart rate machine. Thankfully it did not shock or electrocute me." He didn't tell her that he was still wearing a hospital gown with his jeans underneath it because they wanted to do another scan. He didn't tell her how the paperwork had seemed scarier than before and his hand shook as he signed it.
"Well, swipe a pair of scrubs. Those could come in handy later. And get your cute butt over here." She laughed at the idea of making him blush.
"Bored with our sex life already, love?" She could hear the struggle for levity in his voice, but chose to pretend the tension wasn't there.
"Never, but we could always have a little fun. And…" She grimaced as Regina appeared in her office doorway. "I have to go." Her hasty goodbye included a not so graceful return of the phone to its base that almost knocked over her coffee.
"Didn't mean to disturb," Regina said, sauntering in and dropping to the chair that didn't contain Emma's jacket. "I wanted to see if you had considered the offer for Elsa to resume the tour in the new year? If she's up for it, I think we need to get as much play out of that now. So if you could…" Regina paused, crossing her legs. "I suppose you won't have time to talk to our communications staff about a campaign that might entice Grammy voters."
"Regina, I may not plan to be in the office, but I'll be in contact. I can…"
The dark haired woman held up a hand. "I'm not asking about that. I simply think that perhaps we need to think about what's best for the company, the artists. If you're not 100%, then there are too many problems that could happen. Have you even spoken to Anna about her return? Elsa is talented, but the two of them together are the act that I signed."
"Are you saying I'm not focused and dedicated? Elsa's career has been a huge focus in my life. I have done everything to make her successful and comfortable while Anna focuses on her pregnancy. She's getting good reviews and press. Those download cards we distributed recently have been successful. Her album sales are phenomenal. I know you don't pay much attention to the trades, but there's already buzz about award nominations. All of this while she was being stalked and we had to double and triple efforts to keep her safe."
"You do represent other clients, you know," Regina reminded her, as if she needed the prodding. "I was simply thinking that you might consider transferring responsibility to some of the other associates…ones who didn't just get married or have pending obligations." Standing abruptly, Regina walked toward the door. "Just something to consider."
Emma frowned, looking at the sheet of paper that her boss had left behind. It was a one page plan to relieve Emma of many of the clients she was currently representing. She had found or discovered most of them, bringing them up from bar acts to sometimes international sensations and artistic giants with great reputations in the industry. It had taken years to build this portfolio of talent. Giving them up would be career suicide. Yet it made sense too. She was about to have a husband recuperating from surgery. They were talking about adoption to expand their family. And while she should be offended that only a woman would be asked to make such a sacrifice, she knew it was not out of the realm of reason to question her right now.
She stuffed the paper in her bag and tried not to think about Killian's recent suggestion that she consider going out on her own as a producer. She did love that part of her job and wanted to see herself doing more of it. But now did not seem the time to put forth that effort. She didn't want Killian to worry about her while he faced surgery and a new venture of his own.
Not wanting to consider it any longer, she shot Killian an email to his phone telling him she loved him and wishing him luck on the tests. She also suggested meeting him at the coffee shop near the hospital for lunch, as it would be quicker than Granny's and less intrusive.
***AAA***
Killian stared at the ceiling tiles, counting them and then considering how the school facility he and Mary Margaret had found had similar colors on its ceiling. They were probably uniform and typical for the age of the building, he assumed, squinting his eyes and pretending that the sounds of the heart monitor and other machines were perfectly normal.
"You're looking far too relaxed to be a patient, brother," Liam announced, pulling back the curtain without even pretending to worry about the need for privacy. "I'd say you look like a bloke just back from his honeymoon."
"And you look as though you're a wanker who escaped from the court hearing unscathed," Killian said, lifting up on his elbows to acknowledge the appearance of the elder Jones sibling. He'd already been told about the outcome earlier by phone. "Lost your tie did you?"
Liam rolled his eyes and dropped into the chair at the side of the hospital bed. "Tore that bloody thing off the moment I escaped. I believe it may be somewhere on Lakeshore Drive. Twice in a few days is far too often for me." He leaned forward and took a look at the rolling cart of equipment, part of which was attached to Killian. "This all looks quite serious."
Grinning, Killian leaned back against the nearly flat pillow. "I haven't a clue what they are looking for, but they are determined to put me on every bloody machine in this place. And they don't tell me anything about results. The nurse keeps making noises and saying things are interesting."
Crossing his legs so that one ankle rested on the opposite knee, Liam inspected his fingernails for a moment. "You're sure about doing this? You know you don't own that man anything even remotely this important?"
"Liam, I have already explained why…"
"Aye, and it still sounds like bollocks to me. He abandoned us. Left us as though we were barely more than strangers. He moved on with that wife of his and had another son…"
"It still doesn't change the fact that he was and is the only father we have ever known. Our mum loved him for better or for worse." Killian swallowed, his head lolling back as he stared again at the water stained tiles that were blurry with his eyes tearing up. He blinked rapidly to stave them off. "He may not have been the best husband to her or father to us, but there must be something about him that won her heart. And perhaps she would…I think she would want me to offer this if there was even a chance of him recovering. We both were hurt by him, but he cannot fix what he did or even properly apologize if he isn't given this chance."
For a moment Killian wondered if his older brother planned to simply stand up and leave. He dropped his foot back to the floor and surged forward in the chair as if he was about to stand. But then he leaned backward and folded then unfolded his arms from his chest. "So how is married life treating you, brother? Has she sent you to sleep on the sofa yet?"
***AAA***
Emma wasn't exactly a fan of hospitals, but as Ruby had told her during Granny's stay – nobody really was. Since Killian had missed their lunch because tests were running longer than he had anticipated, she had hurried through her afternoon and driven over to see him as soon as she could see the surface of her desk through all the paperwork. When she walked briskly through the first floor waiting room toward the nurses' desk, she was surprised to see Elsa sitting there thumbing through an old magazine that looked like it might have been there since the building was first constructed.
"Did Killian kick you out?" Emma asked, stopping in front of her friend. "Is he being that bad of a patient already?"
The blonde smiled up at her, eagerly tossing aside the outdated periodical. "I was giving him some time with Liam. I thought they could both use it."
"Court go okay?" Emma asked, taking a seat across the narrow aisle. "I'm sorry we couldn't…"
"The judge didn't really take much time on it. Liam – my Liam – has to do a six week anger management course and 16 hours of community service for the fight. The other Liam has more community service and some other legal stuff…They both pleaded guilty and Graham said they both showed remorse for their actions. So I guess we're good…"
Emma nodded, frowning as her friend shrugged. She wasn't sure what she could say. There was so much to process and so many ways to approach it. "Are you okay with that? What he did was pretty scary with the stalking and the driving you off the road."
"You sound like Liam. He wanted me to ask for more punishment. I wasn't really prepared for this today. I thought it would just be a quick arraignment like on television. I didn't expect things to be settled today." She let her hands skim over the soft material of her pencil skirt. "I hate this. All of this. Why couldn't he have just confronted his brothers? Why did he have to…Why did he have to try and hurt us?"
Emma braced her hands on her knees. "I wish I could answer that. Killian, Liam, and Liam seem to have the absolute worst timing with this stuff. I mean who the hell goes from wedding to honeymoon to organ donor? And I love him. I wouldn't expect anything else from him but to be the kind, generous, and giving man that he is. And as for your Liam, you know he's got that big brother complex thing. He wants to protect everyone, Killian, but most especially you. I think he probably looks at this as his fault for not having dealt with his brother from the start, letting it get to the point that you were in danger."
The vibration of Elsa's phone called her back from the nearly tearful memory of how scared she had been and frustrated. "It's Anna. She had another ultrasound today. I'm sure she wants to share the pics and the news."
"Yeah," Emma answered thoughtfully. "I should get back there to my husband." She scrunched up her nose and squinted. "That's going to take some getting used to, you know."
"I can't even imagine. For what it's worth, I think Killian's being really selfless about this. It's really impressive."
"You're impressive too," Emma said, covering one of Elsa's hands with her own and squeezing. "And just a quick question about work. You don't feel like I've been neglecting you, do you? I know I've been busy with Henry, the wedding, and everything, but…"
"No, you've been awesome. That gig on Thanksgiving worked out great. I've already heard from your publicity department that there are some more interviews that they want me to do before the ballots go out for award season. They seem to think I have a shot at something."
"And Liam? It's been kind of slow go for the band. I probably could have concentrated on getting them more exposure." She bit her lip, trying not to think about Regina's statements. "I still could. I know this one booking guy in New Jersey who might be interested."
Tilting her head to one side, Elsa studied her friend for a moment. "You are asking some odd questions, Emma. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Great," Emma said, squeezing Elsa's hand again. "I promise. Now I'm going to go see my husband. And I'll send that boyfriend of yours out to you."
***AAA***
Henry slid his shoe covered feet off the coffee table seconds before Emma and Killian walked through the door. Dropping his math book onto the floor next to where Sparrow was happily noshing on a new chew toy that Killian had found in a small shop, Henry smiled brightly at his mother and stepfather, opening his arms for a quick embrace and then collapsing back down onto the cushions. Killian escaped back toward the bedroom, declaring that he wanted to wash the stench of the hospital off of him and giving mother and son a moment alone.
"Didn't your dad feed you?" Emma asked when his first question was about what was for dinner. "I thought you were meeting him after school." She didn't mention that she was a bit upset that her ex dropped their son off rather than waited with him for someone to be home. That's a touchy subject and not at all Henry's fault for being at that age where she is not sure about the lines or privilege and responsibility. She would have to talk to Neal later about that whole thing.
"We ended up going to the library and talking to Belle for a while. Dad's not eating much so I guess he didn't think I might be hungry." Henry shrugged, quickly removing his feet from their position again when they hit the table quite by habit. "So can we order in?"
Emma ducked her head into the refrigerator and lifted a few items for closer inspection. She placed a thumb and index finger on her nose and pursed her lips. "I think so, kid," she agreed, pointing toward the basket atop the refrigerator. "You pick. I'm going to go check on Killian."
The water from the shower was running as he had said it would be when Emma yanked off her boots and peeled out of a layer of clothing to replace it with an oversized sweatshirt and leggings. Padding into the steam filled bath, she used her sleeve to wipe at the mirror before turning on the exhaust fan. She called out over the water to her husband that she thought Henry would choose Chinese as their dinner. It would likely not be as good as the Asian meal they had already shared on the boat, but she wasn't going to argue.
"Any special requests?"
His answer was to surprise her, which she could have taken as passive aggression, but she didn't. She knew he was thinking more about what was ahead and less about what meal they would have. "I was thinking to meet with the loan officer in the morning," he said over the sound of the shower. "I need to settle a few things about the school loan before the surgery."
"Should I come with?" Emma asked, reaching into the pocket of the sweatshirt for her now returned phone to check her schedule. "I have a 9 a.m., but if we do 8 then..."
Sliding open the glass door of the shower, he poked his head out. The water logged black hair was sticking to his scalp and forehead and his skin was pinkish red from the heat of the water. "You are still thinking this is a good idea?"
She surged forward to kiss him before she answered, smiling against his mouth in her most hopeful way. "I really hate that I need to ask which idea we're talking about here. If it is the surgery, yes, I think it is a good idea. The loan to get the school going with Mary Margaret? Yes, also a good idea. You're a great teacher and the plan is solid, right? So I say go for it. Any other ideas we're batting around? Because I'm feeling very supportive tonight."
He grinned and ducked back into the shower. "It just seems to me that we are rushing things along a little fast."
"Says the man who helped me plan a wedding that got re-planned in 48 hours," Emma teased, leaning her hip against the counter. "Seriously though. Enough with the lack of decisions."
He was silent for a moment and with a flick of his good wrist turned off the shower. Stepping out of the shower, he grabbed the towel off the rack and smiled wickedly at her as he patted himself dry. "I was negligent upon our return today. I didn't carry you over the threshold."
She shook her head in disbelief at the way he was staring up at her with the most mischievous look ever as he hunched over in his task of drying off. "You did that last night, remember. And you carried me onto the boat twice. I'm thinking we have gotten that tradition out of our system."
"Are you saying you don't enjoy it? Me holding you close in my arms? Carrying you toward our bed?" His voice dropped about two octaves and his eyes were dark as she tried to playfully kick her leg out at him only for him to catch her foot. "I think you might just like it too much."
"I think marriage has made you cockier than usual," she said, pulling her leg back and hopping down from the counter. "I'm going to go help Henry before he orders more than dinner with my credit card. Tell me when you figure out when we need to go to the bank?" She stopped still inside the doorway and spun back toward him. "I love you. I know, awkward moment, but it kind of needs to be said."
His skin was still warm from the shower and he smelled of the body wash she was always telling him was hers from years before. Moving his lips softly over hers and holding the towel just barely knotted on his waist, he smiled against her mouth. "I love you too."
***AAA***
Elsa leaned over and looked again at the screen where her sister was pointing out another item for the baby registry. All of the names, colors, and decorations seemed silly beyond measure. It was a high chair. Why did it need to be called Mr. Bumble Bee's Nutrition Station for Babies? It was a freaking high chair.
"I think it's cute," the younger sister said, jotting it down on her affirmative list. So far she had three pads of paper and her tablet in front of her. One list was for yes. One was for no. And one was for maybe. Nothing was on the no list yet. "And the color is cute."
Elsa tilted her head as she studied the extra full padding, the matching dish set, and the adjustable back rest. "Aren't they supposed to be more functional than cute?" she asked. "I'm all for fashion, but this…"
"Is about what I want," her sister reminded her. Anna patted her protruding belly. "Growing a human here, remember?"
Throwing up both hands, Elsa leaned back against the sofa. "Mr. Bumble Bee it is then."
Anna gave a triumphant nod and scrolled to the next item. "So I like the idea of going neutral on the nursery, but I don't want it to be too bland. What do you think of orange?"
Diplomatically, Elsa avoided making a face. "What does Kristoff think of orange?" she asked, plucking one of the cookies from the package. She nibbled on it daintily, as if the smaller bites would somehow reduce the number of calories.
"He said it looks like how he imagines a pumpkin latte factory would look. But I don't think they make pumpkin spice lattes in a factory, do they? They are like fresh or something? I mean, not fresh exactly since they are made with spices that are jarred and stuff, but still not a factory…"
"Maybe we should look for something like green or yellow, something soothing and that you and Kristoff can both agree on."
Anna scrolled past a few more items before turning her head to the side and studying her sister nibbling on the rest of the cookie. "Does this bother you?" she asked suddenly. When Elsa didn't answer right away, Anna gestured toward her stomach again. "This. The baby, marriage, basically domestic bliss. Does it bother you?"
Elsa dabbed at the corner of her mouth for nonexistent crumbs with her finger. "Why would it?" she asked, her eyes wide and curious. "I'm happy for you. I'm happy to be an auntie."
"And you're happy living with Liam when all your friends are married and more settled?" Anna queried softly. "I know you love Liam, but you two…You've been dating as long as Emma and Killian."
Elsa dropped her hand to her lap, frowning. "It's not a contest or even fair to start comparing. And I don't know that I've ever really equated happiness with being married. It's nice and all, but it doesn't really have to mean that the only measure for a successful relationship is a ring and a cake."
Turning her attention seemingly back to the screen, Anna scrolled past two carriers and wrote one down on the maybe list before she asked again. "Do you not want to get married and have children?"
Elsa shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't say no to the idea. I just don't see the need to push for more when I'm happy with Liam and our life together now. Is there a rule that says we all have to be married and having babies? Can you honestly say that you see that for me?"
***AAA***
The house was quiet as Emma slid out from the bed she shared with Killian and padded into the living room with her laptop and phone cradled in her arms. Not bothering with a light, Emma studied the websites for a few of the bands she was representing, making notes about needs for improvements and about potential angles for promotion. She was on her seventh one when Killian appeared in the doorway.
"Not sure how I feel about my wife of only a few days sneaking out of bed. Isn't it proper for us to not want to leave it for a few weeks at least?" He'd put on a pair of sleep pants and a Henley that was misshapen from years of washing. Still he looked adorable as he leaned over her to give her a kiss and then fell dramatically against the couch next to her. "Something wrong?"
"Just work stuff," she said, the glow of the screen illuminating her face and the messy top knot of her hair. "Regina's sort of on my case."
With his hand extended, he lifted her computer off of her knees and balanced it on the table before opening his arms up to indicate she should find comfort there. It only took a moment before she was laid out half on top of him as he reclined in the corner of the couch. "Want to talk about it?"
"Nope," she said with some finality. "I don't."
"Then we shan't. Perhaps we should talk about other things." She was rubbing her cheek against his chest and her hand was playing with the frayed edge of his shirt near his waist. "Any suggestions?"
"Nope," she repeated, earning a chuckle that vibrated against her ear. "I think we talk too much for this to still be our honeymoon."