Chapter Text
Emma grimaced as the wooden wagon jostled about, the wheels dipping into yet another pothole in the road. Who knew the Enchanted Forest had potholes? She couldn’t imagine it was that difficult to fill them in, with the road being, you know, dirt, but, as she had discovered over the past few days, there was a lot she didn’t know about her homeland.
She shifted uncomfortably on the bench seat, the rough material of her prison dress irritating her legs, and sighed. With any luck, they’d soon be back in Storybrooke, and she’d be back in her soft sweater and favorite pair of jeans.
“You alright there, Swan?”
She glanced next to her at Killian, his face in close proximity to her own given that they were sharing the driver’s seat of the wagon. She couldn’t help but notice the patterns in his blue irises, thin streaks of gold woven throughout. Catching herself before he detected her staring, Emma settled her features into what she hoped was a smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just anxious to get back.”
He nodded knowingly, adjusting his grip on the reins. “I must say, for all the oddities of your realm, your cars are very much preferable to wagons and carriages.” He hesitated as he spoke, his accent wrapping unsurely around the foreign word.
“Not gonna argue with that,” she said, and this time the smile came naturally. “Though here it’s easier to appreciate the view.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized the trap she had fallen into, and Killian did not disappoint.
“Indeed, the view is quite appealing from where I sit.” His eyebrows danced playfully over his brow as he smirked at her, throwing in a wink for good measure.
Emma failed at holding back a laugh, and gave him a light shove, muttering a half-hearted shut up.
He just grinned back.
They lapsed into silence after that, allowing the bird calls and footsteps of the horses and the creaking of the forest to substitute any conversation, and Emma found herself musing on how easy it was, to just be with him, with no expectations of forced interaction or words to fill the quiet. She realized how much she had taken it for granted, his presence, and his willingness to let her dictate the pace of their friendship. Because that’s what it was, right? A friendship? Despite their attraction to each other (which she long ago gave up denying to herself), neither of them had made any moves to carry things further than their kiss in Neverland. (Not counting what happened when he found her in New York—that had to have been a fluke, right?) But they weren’t simply allies anymore either. It seemed too small a word for what was built between them, and Emma realized she rather liked calling Killian that. Her friend.
But you’d like more, wouldn’t you? her subconscious whispered. She ignored it as the truth of the words panged through her.
She needed a distraction.
“How much longer do you think it’ll take to get back to Rumplestiltskin’s castle?”
Killian frowned, glancing up at the thin tree tops to where the sun poked through. “A few more hours. Three most likely, if the road stays clear and the weather fair.”
She nodded her acknowledgement, glancing behind her into the back of the wagon at their unwilling companion.
“She’s not yet awake?” he asked.
“No,” Emma said, wincing. “I think I hit her a bit harder than I meant to.”
“Her breathing was even last I checked, Swan, she should be fine once she comes to.”
“Right,” she replied, grateful for the reassurance he offered, and how he knew that she’d needed it. She supposed that was just another mark of their friendship.
Sure, that’s what it is, the voice in her head muttered sarcastically.
Silence fell over them once more, and Emma was soon lost in thoughts of Henry, excited to tell him about their adventures, knowing he’d be a captive audience. This time, it was Killian who broke the quiet, with a jaw-cracking yawn that he tried and failed to conceal.
She felt a pang of sympathy for him. Neither of them had gotten much sleep the night before, for she had heard him rustling about on his blanket as she’d tried to relax on hers. It had been a long and tense couple of days, what with the whole threat of her being wiped from existence and changing everyone’s future, and she knew that his ordeal with Zelena had intruded on his ability to rest while they’d still been in Storybrooke.
Emma snuck a glance at him, this time not only focusing on his blue eyes but on the dark bruising beneath them. She felt a similar exhaustion, but she was so wired and excited to finally get out of the past that it didn’t weigh on her so heavily.
The weary, involuntary slump of his shoulders helped make her decision.
“Hey, pull over. Let me drive for a while.”
He looked at her a bit confused, as though he hadn’t entirely caught what she’d said. “What?”
“Let’s switch places. I’ll take the reins, and you can just… relax. Try and get some rest.”
Killian straightened in his seat, his response sounding like a rehearsed mantra. “I’m fine.”
Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes, aware that she likely would have said the exact same thing were their positions reversed. “I know you’re fine, but you’re also tired. I’m not, and like you said, we’ve still got a few more hours of travel. You might as well take advantage of it.”
He stared ahead, seemingly struggling with himself. She understood his reluctance; it was hard for both of them to show weakness. But she also wasn’t letting it go.
She laid her hand on his arm, just at the crook of his elbow, the smooth fabric of his coat and the warmth radiating from it sending a tingling up through her fingers. “Killian,” she said quietly.
He met her gaze, and for a moment she swore she saw what looked like fear in his eyes (fear of hurt, of giving too much of yourself only for the other person to toss it right back at your feet and leave you in the dust). But it was quickly replaced by trust, trust that caused her breath to stutter a bit and her heart to ache at its completeness. He nodded once, and pulled back gently on the reins, coaxing the horses to a stop with a low whoa, easy there.
They descended from the wagon, passing around the front to switch places. As they sat back down again, Killian’s leg brushed against her own, and strangely she found herself missing the contact as he shifted his position.
“Thank you, Swan,” he said simply, the soft-spoken words wrapping around her and settling somewhere deep in her chest.
“Of course.” For once, she hoped her voice could convey as many unspoken secrets as his. The small smile on his face after her reply had her thinking it did.
He gave her a quick run through of how to use the reins and have the horses stop and go, and soon enough they were back on their way. Though he’d already thanked her, Emma was pretty sure the best form of gratitude came from his peaceful expression as he dozed, and she relaxed a bit more in turn.
Soon, they’d be home.