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Expecting to see her neighbor, she was ill-prepared to see him— dark hair, clear, brilliant blue eyes shining with happiness and hope.
“Swan.”
Instinct kicked in and she moved to close the door on her past, but his reflexes were faster and his foot between the door and the frame prevented her from shutting him out entirely.
“It’s not Swan anymore.”
“Oh yes, Emma Nolan. You’re not the only one who’s good at finding people.
“Emma!” She groaned as she continued down the hall, and threw a quick, “Hey Ruby” over her shoulder. She hoped the woman would take the hint and not follow, but the sound of footsteps as they quickly approached let her know she was in no such luck.
“I saw that hot piece of ass leaving last night. What’s wrong with you? Too much for you to handle? I would have come over and helped, you know.”
Oh, Emma knew. Ruby lived with her grandmother, and having the (albeit quite lively) 65 year old woman as a roommate was certainly putting a damper on her plan to sleep her way through the single population of Boston. More nights than Emma was comfortable with, she would come home to find Ruby and a guest, making use of her couch. If Granny put up any complaints on the volume of Emma’s bedroom TV on those nights, well, she’d be more than happy to send the amourous couple back next door.
“Just a blast from the past, who needs to stay there.”
Ruby just shook her head, allowing Emma the opportunity to close the door before being questioned any further.
Emma had been doing nothing since the previous night except trying to stifle memories. But the man, well boy then, had been such a central part of her formative years, that seeing him brought everything that she fought so hard to forget right back to the forefront.
He’d been her best friend until it all went south.
An orphan himself, only cared for by his much older brother, he understood her in a way their other friends couldn’t. When she had arrived in Storybrooke at the age of 13, ready to run from her tenth foster home in ten years, he was a large factor in what kept her there, anchored in the best possible way. His wit, his patience, and his quiet support showed her that you didn’t need to have family to have people who would stay at your side through anything.
A sullen teenager, she often wondered what Ruth, her then foster-mother, and eventual adoptive mother, saw in her. Killian was the one who connected, who wouldn’t let her hide behind her years of pain. And over the years she, her foster brother David, Killian, and their friend Snow, became an unbreakable unit.
The problems had started her junior year, when her boyfriend, her first boyfriend, Neal, had come between them. As an adult, when she couldn’t keep herself from looking back, she would admit that it was her fault. She made the mistake of letting her adoration of Neal, the rich, older boy, crowd out all of her other relationships: David, Snow, and especially Killian. He’d called her out on it, repeatedly. Told her it wasn’t that he didn’t like Neal (he didn’t), and that it wasn’t that he was jealous (he was). But that they deserved her attention too. They missed her.
And now that she was older, wiser, and could spot a con from a mile off, she should have seen it. His pleas, the guilt. It wasn’t right. Baby, we don’t need to hang out with your friends. I just want you. We’re enough, right? Aren’t I enough? Come’on. Let’s just make it the two of us. And for the orphan who’d been abandoned at the side of the road as an infant, the attention was addictive. She fed off of it. And he fed on her.
It took too long for her to realize. The guilt she felt over that now was unbearable. If only she’d known who he really was, if she’d been able to protect herself, to keep him away, she’d have been okay. Instead, she gave herself over to him, and would pay the price for the rest of her life. She was alone, far from everyone she loved. It was best this way. It’s what she deserved for letting him in. For letting him get close. For not listening to her friends and for dragging them down with her.
She’d finally done the right thing, and broken up with him right before her senior year started. It all came to a head when she got a glimpse of who he really was. She saw him living off his father’s money. No plans for his future. Yet another dig at Killian for joining the Navy to provide for his. That was what really did it. There had been no love lost between her boyfriend and her best friend, and seeing Neal mock the boy who grew up an orphan, with only his older brother as a guardian, both struggling to make ends meet, while he had every luxury at his disposal, was enough.
Knowing the consequence of her action, she would have done it again. Only she would have watched her back.
The night before Killian was to leave Storybrooke to meet his ship, they all went out to celebrate: Snow, David, Emma, and Killian. It was bittersweet. They were saying goodbye to one of their number for she didn’t know how long.
Of course they’d discussed it. She knew why he had to leave, unwilling to be a drain on his brother for any longer, the Navy was providing for his future. She had been the first one he’d told, coming to her smiling and picking her up in a crushing hug, when he had been accepted and found out he’d would be sailing on the ship he wanted. She was happy for him, knowing if she had the means to provide for her future in the same way, so as not to be a burden on Ruth, she’d take it in a heartbeat. But she had to stay behind and finish high school, and had yet to develop any plan for life past graduation.
She grew more somber as the night continued, as the reality of Killian’s departure started to sink in. Snow and David were full of plans for their future, talking about getting married as soon as they graduated and finding a college where they’d both be accepted. But the reality that she would be all alone, again, hit her. They didn’t need her. Killian would leave, finding adventure and forgetting her. She couldn’t fault him. She knew his reasons. Snow and David had each other. She began to realize that this home she thought she’d found had only been temporary.
Not too many places in Storybrooke were available for late night shenanigans, but they had spent their night down at the shore, drinking a few beers, huddled under blankets, until the cold sent them to their respective homes. She’d never have left his side if she’d known that was the last time she would ever see him. David left to drive Snow home, and Emma climbed up into the cab of Killian’s brother’s truck, knowing he’d give her a ride. She almost couldn’t bear to look at him, knowing in just moments it would be goodbye.
“Come see me tomorrow, Emma. Please?” His voice was almost a whisper as they sat in the driveway, as though he needed to be quiet to keep from waking up the neighborhood. But it wasn’t fear of waking the neighbors that kept him quiet. It was fear of finally exposing his feelings. “I know it’s late, and I’m leaving early. But please. I want you to be the last person I see before I leave.” He reached over to push a lock of hair off of her cheek, and she nuzzled her head into his hand, silently nodding in agreement. His eyes were pleading, but didn’t need to be. She had wanted to ask if she could see him off, but didn’t know if it would only make it harder. Something in her response must have emboldened him, because for the first time in all of their years of friendship he leaned over, and kissed her, softly, tenderly, but with promise. They were silent, foreheads pressed together, both lost in thought before Emma finally stepped out of the car and closed the door quietly, hoping not to wake Ruth. She turned back to look at him more times than she could count before reaching the front door, and he never took his eyes off of her, not until the door closed behind her, and the front porch light switched off.
That was the last night of her idyllic life in Storybrooke. The last night that she felt like it was home.
She woke early the next morning, readying herself to face whatever their relationship was to become, a glimmer of hope that maybe there was a future for her there. Only the blue and red lights in her rear view mirror never let her make it to the bus stop.
The police were waiting for her. The warrant was filled out. The watch was found tucked under the back seat. She was taken in and questioned for hours before they’d even let her make a call. Ruth, David and Snow all arrived, stricken with concern, questions. They knew it was a lie. That she’d been framed. But when the richest, most powerful man in town’s property is found in a foster kid’s car, there’s little to be done. Ruth couldn’t afford the kind of lawyer who could defeat Mr. Gold’s. And in the courtroom, there was Neal. Looking smug. She knew, oh she knew what he’d done. And from the look on his face, Mr. Gold did too. Better to have the foster kid he always considered to be beneath his son go to jail for his son’s crime. She always wondered who Neal owed money to this time. But it didn’t matter. She was done. Guilty in the eyes of all of Storybrooke. And she couldn’t stand the guilt of knowing that the town blamed Ruth for bringing the orphan into their fold.
Oh Ruth, David, and Snow said they believed her. But her adoptive mother had wiped out her meager savings, David’s college fund at that, on Emma’s defense, and for nothing. Emma still ended up with a two year sentence. She couldn’t take the guilt she felt during their weekly visits. She couldn’t look at either of them knowing Ruth was working two jobs and that David had postponed college for her. All for nothing. But they wouldn’t give up on her, so when she was transferred to Phoenix due to overcrowded jails in Maine she thought it for the best. Better that they forget her. Better to throw their letters in the trash. To let them continue with their lives without her dragging them down further.
It was months before his first letter arrived. Sitting in the jail cell in Phoenix, his handwriting jumped out immediately. She smiled at first, remembering how many notes she’d been passed in class in this same flawless script so unlike anyone else’s. Where he had learned to write like that she’d never found out, but it was one of those things that was so innately Killian.
She clutched the envelope for days, debating on whether she would open it. She knew what it would contain. His reaction to her not showing up that morning to see him off. The story of how he found out what happened. His absolute belief in her innocence, and a vow to get revenge on both father and son. She thought back to their kiss, and remembered the promise it held. If the letter contained any allusions to that night, she knew she wouldn’t be strong enough to do what she needed, to cut them off, to remove herself from them, to let them forget. So the letter went out in the trash. Along with every one of his letters until the day she was released.
The first few years were hard. No high school diploma. A jail record. No one she would let herself rely on for help. Minimum wage jobs barely allowing her to keep the lights on and food on the table. Eventually she got her GED. But the name, Emma Swan, and the record, those followed everywhere she went.
Emma Nolan however, Emma Nolan didn’t have a record. All she needed was a few pieces of paperwork Ruth had stored. All it would take was was one call. One helping hand. Letting herself rely on one person, just once, she told herself.
He came through, swearing not to share her secret with anyone as long as she always told him where she was. Eventually she let him tell Snow, and the contact turned into birthday cards and email. She always updated them if she moved. Boston had at least become, if not home, a place to exist.
And now, now… The past had found her.
Physically, there was very little left of the boy she knew in the man standing before her. Oh, the hair and the eyes were the same, that twinkle of amusement. The smirk and lift of the eyebrow. He’d grown taller, broader. And more handsome. But the years had hardened him in ways she couldn’t describe. There was an edge to his words.
“So all these years, you’ve been speaking with Snow and David. It's just me you needed to avoid. That’s it?”
He walked right in, as though she’d invited him, and appraised her living room. There wasn’t much to see. Emma had never been much on decorating, preferring to keep herself to herself.
“You never answer any of my letters, disappear without a trace after you’re released, and 10 years after the fact I find out you’ve been living 350 miles away, a day’s drive, Emma. Without a word.”
She’d watched him as he paced, letting him get out his speech, as he’d clearly rehearsed it on his drive. Hands in his pockets, he finally plopped down on her couch, without a word.
“You don’t understand, Killian,” she said, shaking her head.
“Clearly.” He waited for her to continue, but when she offered nothing further he prodded her. “Explain, by all means, please.”
“It’s better this way.”
“For whom, love? Snow? David? They miss you, Emma. I can tell that all the time. And that’s before I knew they were in contact with you. For me?” That was paired with a bitter laugh. “For you? Look around. This doesn’t look like a life, love.” At that, he had pulled his left hand out of his pocket and gestured around the room, and she noticed what was missing.
“Your hand! Killian!”
“I think you mean, ‘Where’s your hand?’ But yes, obviously not attached. That went along with my service in the Navy. If you’d read my letters you’d know. But that’s not a story for today. I’m here to talk about you. To find out why you never came back? Why you didn’t tell us where you were? Or at least me, Emma. What did I ever do?”
She couldn't look at him. She just repeated, “It’s better this way Killian. I messed everything up. You’re all better off this way.”
He looked at her and realized she truly believed it. She believed that whatever happened 10 years ago was her fault, and that she deserved this exile as punishment.
“Love, what are you talking about? We’re not better off without you.” He was by her side in a flash. “We, all of us, David, Snow, Ruth, me, we want you back. We need you in our lives, love. You’re part of us.”
“You don’t need me. It’s been 10 years. You’re fine. You’re all fine. And now, you don’t have to deal with the stain of the little thief as your friend. Believe me, it’s better.”
He started laughing. “Emma, I doubt that anyone would really think about your supposed past misdeed now. Neal’s the town drunk. Gold died years ago, and he’s gambled away every last cent of his daddy’s money. I shouldn’t be proud of this, but I am. I beat him to a bloody pulp, one handed at that, love. When I came home and found out what he’d done. He walks with just as much of a limp as Gold ever did. If anyone deserves to go to jail, it’s me for that.”
She’d stayed firm, but his laugh almost did her in. As bitter as it was, laughing as he recollected the night he tracked down the man and finally took out his revenge for every wrong doing he’d ever committed against Emma, she hadn’t heard anything so wonderful in ages.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“You shouldn’t have run away.”
They sat just looking at each other. It was an impasse. Neither willing to budge an inch.
“They shouldn’t have told you where I was. They were wrong to do that.”
“Oh don’t blame David and Snow, love. I was house sitting for them and checked the mail. That’s what you get for sending Snow a birthday card. You can change your name, but you can’t change your handwriting. Return address, darling.”
She groaned. Of course it was something as small as that. She gave herself away. Again, silence.
“Don’t you miss us? We miss you, every day. Every single day.”
“No.” She shook her head, and looked him dead in the eyes. “No. I don’t.”
“You’re a liar, Emma Swan. For someone who can spot a liar, you’re not very good at it yourself.”
They sat looking at each other, each taking in the changes the years had brought, neither disappointed. Emma wouldn’t speak, not without being prompted, knowing anything she said he’d use as ammunition against her. Killian was silent, trying to determine what course was best with the woman whose stubbornness had only increased with age.
Minutes passed. And it was Killian who spoke first.
“I can’t convince you to come home with me, can I?”
She shook her head. “That isn’t my home, Killian.”
“It is. You don’t know it, but it is.” He stood and crossed over, standing in front of the chair where she was seated. “I’ll leave you for now, but don’t think this is over, Emma love.”
With that, he leaned over and kissed her cheek and left, without even waiting for a response.
And of course it wasn’t over. Emma Swan was not the only stubborn one.
The large cardboard envelope in her mailbox stopped her. She hadn’t ordered anything, and real mail was limited to the yearly birthday card that Snow insisted on sending, despite their sporadic email correspondence. But there it was, surrounded by take out menus and political campaign flyers shoved in her mailbox. She turned it, expecting to see a neighbor’s name, she had to pause when she saw her own sprawled across the front. She’d recognize that handwriting anywhere, just as he knew hers.
She put away her groceries, started dinner and tried to carry on with life, all the while the envelope sat there in her kitchen. The more she tried to ignore it, the more it called her to it, leaving a pit in her stomach. She thought the counter should buckle under the weight of it. It almost went in the garbage several times, but it was as though the letter wouldn’t allow it. And so it sat.
Until she could bear it no longer. She knew opening it would be opening the door to her past. It would be letting him in. But she rationalized by saying she could read the letter, but not respond. He’d never need to know.
She tore off the strip and peered inside, finding two unmatched envelopes. One simply had “Swan” written on the outside, and the other had the same name, but with the addition of a 1. She figured she was meant to read that one first and slid her finger under the edge, releasing the seal and opened up the paper.
Swan,
I know now that you never read the letters I sent while you were incarcerated. I wish you had, but we can’t change the past. But you need to know that I never stopped writing you, even once I didn’t know how to even get them to you. I’ve saved every one.
These letters have become my journal of a sort. A journal that rightfully belongs to you. These letters contain every detail of my life these past years. They’ll contain stories I’ve forgotten. Friends who didn’t stay. Loves come and gone. You’ve been my confidant, Emma. Just as you would have been had you not left us.
I know you’ll read sentiments in these letters that will occasionally hurt you. I’ve been hurt by you. I’ve been angry with you. For leaving us. The girl who has only known abandonment not putting herself in our shoes, to think of what she’s done to us by disappearing without a trace. As though we, the ones who love her most, meant nothing to you.
And yes, you’ll read about how much I love you, Emma. You didn’t know. I never told you. It was never the right time. But I’ve never stopped. I will never stop. Just as these letters will never stop.
I hope you'll read.
Killian
She had struggled to make it home through the rain, with a broken heel no less, and opened the door into the warmth of her apartment. It wasn’t much, a simple one bedroom, but it was hers. It had been a dreadful day and she’d lost her skip in a crowd and ruined her shoes in the process. But dry clothes and her arm chair did not bring the comfort she needed. She missed someone to talk to. To tell her everything was going to be okay. She was twenty eight years old, and she just needed someone to tell her it would be alright.
It had been two days since she opened his first letter. So unsure of what the second would contain, she’d sat staring at it almost constantly, thumbing at the edge of the envelope until the paper curled up on its own. After the misery of the day, she decided it was time. Maybe it would hurt her, but it would bring news from home. The stories Snow or David would never think to tell.
Ripping it open, she dove into the words. It was three pages, scrawled front and back. As she read, she realized he must have come back to the pages occasionally over a few days. Some trains of thought would drift off, only to be picked up later after more consideration. But she was right, there was news from home. Stories about people from her youth, told through Killian’s lens. His words making her laugh one moment, and groan the next. The vandalism of the mayor’s apple tree had been headline news. His neighbor’s dog getting loose, yet again. She scrunched up her nose at bits, trying to make sense as the words probably alluded to an earlier letter. All she could glean was that his feud with the high school janitor had not ended upon graduation. Snow had kept her up to date on most of the town gossip, but there was something special in reading it from Killian’s point of view. She wanted to fight the feeling, but three pages was all it took to remind her of why she’d been friends with him. And how very, very much she missed him in her life.
The letters started arriving with regularity. Mondays and Thursdays. Always a large cardboard envelope. Always two letters: one old, one new. All ending exactly the same way. Come home, Swan. Please.
Some days the old letters would be so joyous. There would be news of a promotion at work, or a bet he’d won with Dave, some nonsense that she could just tell made him happy. And happy to share it with her. But then she’d get to the end, and she could feel the hurt and the pleading. Come home, Swan. Please.
The new letters continued in much the same vein as the old. Recaps of his week. Stories of their friends. But the details were new. Almost as though he were writing a sales brochure for her hometown. Swan, do you remember the harbor and how peaceful it was? I still go there to think. It’s quiet, and reminds me of time with you. I know you don’t have anything like it in Boston. The water’s too noisy there. Storybrooke, well Storybrooke you can sit for hours, like we used to do. We had so many plans. I still remember us sat up on the wall, looking out at the horizon wondering what the world would bring. I want to go back to that boy and tell him to hold on and never let you go. Come home, Swan. Please.
Some letters were clearly from his time still in the Navy. Raunchy stories about his fellow servicemen, gripes about the food, long love letters to soft sheets, even fluffier pillows, and the guest room of Snow and David’s new house. Those letters always contained a countdown to when he thought he’d next get leave. 52 days, love, and I’ll be back in Storybrooke. Meet me there, Please.
Any amount of comfort she got from his letters, reminders of the true friendship she had been lacking for so long, was immediately crushed when she’d look up from the paper and take stock of her surroundings. Her life was nothing more than an existence. No friends, just acquaintances. No hobbies, just work. Nothing that made life full, as she knew how hard it was to leave things you loved behind when it all went wrong. Even with the pain she always felt after reading, she couldn’t bring herself to throw his letters away. Not anymore. She’d rush home on nights she knew his envelopes would be waiting, ready to dive into his words. It was though she truly lived only when reading his letters. The rest of her time was spent just waiting.
The first time his letter hurt, she nearly cracked. It was the first letter. The first letter for which he had no address. Even after so many years, and knowing that there was a level of forgiveness, the anger she read in his words cut her to her core. He’d returned on leave, ready to spend a week with Snow and David, only to receive the news that she’d been released and disappeared without a trace.
For the first time since his letters had started to arrive, she climbed into bed and cried herself to sleep.
It was a last minute decision, driving to Storybrooke to attend Snow and David's son's christening. The invitation had been staring her in the face for weeks. Of course she hadn't replied, hadn't RSVP’d. But something in her compelled her to pack a bag and get in the car for the long drive north. Maybe it was Snow’s handwritten note tucked inside the invitation, emphasizing how much it would mean to have her there for such an important event. Maybe it was the words in Killian’s most recent letter, telling her he wanted to be her home.
Even unannounced, she was sure they’d be happy to see her and that she would be welcomed in with open arms, offers of food, hugs, and more smiles and tears than she could handle. That didn’t quell her nerves in the slightest.
She wasn't prepared for him to answer, baby on his hip, surprise quickly turning to elation when he realized it was her.
"Emma." He was stunned, but tried to hide his smile and play off his joy, figuring nonchalance was the best method to make her feel comfortable. "Look lad, it's your Aunt Emma. Give her a big smile, Leo." He bounced the baby in his arms and swung him into Emma, making zooming noises.
At that, the boy laughed, perfectly happy in Killian's arms, as though it were a natural place for him to be. He led her into the living room announcing her unexpected arrival to her adopted brother and sister-in-law. She questioned if she even had the right to call them that, whether she had any right to the title of “Aunt Emma” which Killian had so quickly bestowed on her.
The feeling of home hit her so quickly as she entered the living room, but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. It was more a reminder of what she didn’t have. A quick glance around and she spied bits of her youth; the arm chair she called her own, David having rescued it from Ruth’s house. A picture of the foursome from a high school ski trip. She didn’t get a chance to look around any further before she was consumed by a pair of arms, embracing her in a crushing hug.
"Emma, why didn't you tell us you were coming? Oh my goodness, David she's here. I need to go get Killian's room ready for her."
Emma turned to her adoptive brother with a questioning glance, but it was Killian who answered.
"The Nolans here took pity on my after my accident and my dismissal from the Navy. I was in no state to take care of myself, so I lived here until I was back on my feet. I think they're still hoping I'll come claim my room again."
David laughed. "That and we have you put your sorry, drunk ass to sleep in there some nights still."
"You're drunk, too. Don't try to make it out as though I’m the only one, mate.”
“Boys!” Emma was quickly transported back to high school, when Snow was always the peacemaker of the group. “Let’s not debate who is drunker more often. Killian, you put Leo in his highchair. David, you go out and see if Emma’s got a bag in her car and take it to Killian’s room. I’ll get a plate set for you, Emma. Dinner’s just about ready. You’re just in time.”
And with that, she was welcomed back into the fold as though she had never left.
And it scared her.
They didn’t press her during dinner, knowing enough of what she’d been up to over the years. They tried to catch her up on Storybrooke news. Stories of Leo. Reminiscing about high school. And as she sat and listened, she wanted to cry.
It was Killian’s steady gaze across the table that kept her grounded. She needed to hold it together, knowing that if she cried, if she showed any sign of the misery she felt in her current life, David and Killian would be on the road in a heartbeat, back to Boston to pack up her things, not even giving her a choice but to stay.
As soon as Leo was put to bed, a celebratory bottle of rum was found in a cabinet, and drinks were shared all around. They became louder, laughed harder, and Emma found herself glad that Killian was seated in her old armchair. If he’d been close, she would have found it too easy to curl up next to him, letting him put his arm around her the way David’s was wrapped around Snow. She could see him watching her as they talked, his eyes never leaving her face, and she wanted to find it unsettling, but all it did was make her upset that she couldn’t watch him in return, not without him knowing. As it was, every time he caught her glance, his eyebrow would rise and his lip would curl, as though he could read her thoughts.
Emma shared nothing with her friends, simply happy to be here while they went on as though nothing had ever changed. They didn’t pry. Didn’t press, for which she was grateful. One word and her carefully built fortress keeping them at arm’s distance would come crumbling down. So Emma sat silent, allowing herself one night in the life she should have had.
Snow and David had disappeared up the stairs, leaving the two of them alone in the living room, along with the last dregs of the bottle of rum.
She looked over at him, sitting in the recliner. "You're in my chair." Her words were only slightly slurred. If Emma Swan had one constant companion in these past 10 years, it was alcohol. The amber liquid only making her more confident, looser, she still retained all of her senses.
"What's the phrase, Swan? 'Move your feet. Lose your seat.' This is my chair now. You gave it up a long time ago."
The recliner had always been hers. From the day she'd moved in to Ruth's, it had been her sanctuary. The one place she could sit that kept her in the same room as everyone else, but never forcing her to share. Others could scrunch together on the couch, but the recliner was all hers.
"You're in my seat," she stated again.
He leveled her with a stare, the alcohol making him bolder. "Yes Emma Swan. I know this is your seat. But I'm not moving. The only solution I see is for us to share it." His look challenged her, daring her to join him. He reached ever to the sofa and grabbed her hand, giving it a slight tug to see if she'd take the bait, and she did. Rising from her place on the couch, she stood and stepped to the recliner, looking down on him. "I said share it, Swan." He released her hand to reach up and cup her cheek, and she leaned into his hand closing her eyes. "Please sit down, Swan. It's bad form for me to make a lady stand."
And that’s when he found himself with the elusive Emma Swan curled up in his lap, lips pressed to his, one hand finding its way through the buttons of his shirt fingers stroking the whorls of dark curls on his chest, while her other hand fisted in his hair, pulling him tightly to her. It was so sudden, and so unexpected a move, it took him a moment to adjust, trying to decide whether to give in, or make her slow down and explain.
But 10 years of longing won out, and he couldn’t stop himself. His arm circled around her back, pulling her close as he ran his hand through her hair, tangling his fingers through her curls. Every bit of pent up passion for this woman escaped in the move of his mouth and tongue as their lips tangled. She may not have spent the years dreaming of him the same way, but each move was met with the same ferocity, until the chair could no longer contain them. With one swift movement, he lifted her as she wrapped her legs around his waist, and carried her into his room, laying her in the bed.
They slowed only a little when they entered the room. Neither spoke a word as they removed each other’s clothing piece by piece, almost reverently until they were both bare and finally exposed. There was nothing between them. Emma lay sprawled on her back with Killian settled between her legs studying her face, and he saw the slight nod, and again, no more words were exchanged. Tender kisses became more demanding. Gentle exploration until each discovered exactly what the other needed. Silence until they could no longer contain it, muffled moans and cries, hoping they did not alert their hosts to their activities
He fell asleep with her in his arms, knowing that this had been a mistake, but unable to be sorry for it, not while he could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his and not when he heard, ever so quietly, the name Killian escape her lips as she slept.
He woke in his room in the dead of night, alone, with Emma Swan on his mind. Like every other time he'd woken in his room at the Nolan's. He glanced around, noting her bag was still there. She hadn’t fled, but the only trace of her in the bed, the only reminder of the night they’d shared, was her scent on the pillow.
"Fuck." He leaned back and scrubbed his face, angry with himself for letting it go so far. He knew his punishment would be distance. One step forward, miles back. He’d be lucky if he would get one word out of her today.
Pretending the circumstance was different, he allowed himself to lay there for a moment, holding the pillow as if it were her, eyes closed, breathing deeply. If only, he thought.
He climbed out of bed, and went to find her. She would try to give him the silent treatment, but he needed to say his piece. Finding her asleep on the couch, he kneeled down leveling his face with hers. Her blonde hair was in tangles, probably his fault. So many years spent dreaming of running his hands through her locks, now given the chance his one hand had to do the work of two, and it had made up for lost time. Her breathing was steady, but the wrinkle on her brow revealed that her sleep was not easy. Hesitating to wake her, he studied her face for a moment, taking in her beauty. But her beauty was never the real draw for Killian Jones. Even as teenagers, it was her spirit. And that spirit was still there today. She’d been beaten and pushed down at every turn in her life. All he wanted was to be here, to be the one to support her, through a life that wasn’t trying to work against her. Now was that time. He’d do everything he could to show her that.
“Emma, love. Get up. You go back and take the bedroom. I’ll take the sofa, love. Please.” She moved slightly, sleepily acknowledging his words, but instead of standing to move to the bedroom, she pulled his hand, indicating he should join her on the couch. Almost nothing could have induced him to stay, knowing the price he’d pay when she woke up in the morning would be distance, but again he heard his name on her lips in her sleep. Killian. Nothing could stop him. He climbed in behind her on the sofa, wrapping his arm around her again as she rolled to face him in his arms. One last time, he heard his name, and she was back in a dead sleep.
He lay there and appreciated what he knew would not last as long as he could, until sleep claimed him.
He woke up alone, again. Snow’s voice trying to quiet a crying Leo. David calling to her about his missing tie. The smell of breakfast in the air. Ruth calling that she’d wake the bum sleeping on the couch. He smiled at that, knowing she was kidding. But the smile turned to an immediate frown when he realized the one voice he hadn’t heard. Sitting up in a rush, ready to dart into the kitchen, he nearly bowled Ruth over as she entered the room.
“Slow down, Captain. No rush today.” Her arms circled his waist as she captured him in a tight hug. “She's home, Killian. She's really here. I think I have you to thank for that,” he heard her say quietly. His fear that Emma had left without saying goodbye quieted, he took a moment to return Ruth’s embrace.
“She’s not staying, Ruth. I can’t convince her to stay.” He felt guilty all of the sudden, for bringing Emma back into their lives only to have her leave again. Ruth had been a surrogate mother to him, his having died so young, and knowing the pain she’d endured the first time Emma left, he silently admonished himself for putting her through it again.
He heard the woman chuckle in his arms, as though she knew a secret. “My boy, she’s home. She doesn’t know it yet, but she's home. She’ll try to run again, but she’ll be back. You’ll see. Just keep doing whatever it is you’ve been doing.”
“I hope you’re right, Ruth.” He sighed, allowing himself to slump a little and dropping his head on top of hers. “Truly, I hope you’re right.”
“If there’s one person who knows my daughter better than you, Killian, it’s me. She’ll be back. And until then, well we just have to wait.”
He dropped a kiss to her head, and took her hand, joining the rest of the group in the kitchen.
“Bum has arisen. We can eat and get a move on to church. Time to get this boy baptized. Killian, go get cleaned up. I will not have my grandson’s Godfather looking like a ragamuffin in all of the photos.”
He snuck a quick glance over to Emma, who was overly interested in her eggs. But she wouldn’t look up, and wouldn’t even acknowledge his entrance into the kitchen until Ruth stepped in.
“And you, young lady. You need to go clean up as well. Don’t tell me you drove all this way for a christening and didn’t bring a dress. I raised you better than that. I will not have you standing up at the front of the church in boots and a leather jacket. If you don’t have one, well you’re going to make do with something out of Snow’s closet.”
She shook her head in confusion. “Ruth, I’m not going to be up in front of the church. It doesn’t matter what I wear.”
“Ruth, we didn’t ask her. I…” Snow trailed off but David stepped in. It was the first time anyone in the room said anything to acknowledge the tentative nature of her presence in their lives. “Emma, we want you to be Leo’s Godmother. But we understand if you don’t want to say yes. We didn’t want you to feel like we were pressuring you.”
“I can’t.” She shook her head back and forth slowly, shocked that they would even ask. “You guys can’t ask me to do that. I won’t be here for him. You need to find someone who will be here for him.”
David smiled tightly, as Snow left the room upset with this confirmation that Emma planned to leave. “It doesn’t feel right to have anyone but you, Emma.”
Ruth stepped around to Emma, pulling her into a hug. “It’s okay, baby. We hoped you’d stay. But it’s okay. Just because you leave today doesn’t mean you can’t come back. We’ll always be here for you.”
Killian returned to the room to hear Ruth’s comforting words, and Emma looked up just as he walked through the doorway. David dropped Leo into his arms and left the room to find his wife, just as Killian came over to join Ruth and Emma. “Isn’t that right, my boy? We’ll always be here for her.”
“Always, Ruth.” If Emma wouldn’t acknowledge his presence, he could at least respond to Ruth’s inquiry, knowing Emma would hear.
He saw the red jacket dash from the pews as soon as the last words to the ceremony were said, and he quickly handed Leo over to David, wordlessly explaining his quick departure. It took standing in front of the door to her car to get her to acknowledge him, but she couldn’t leave without listening to his last plea.
“Emma, we need to talk.”
“Killian, I know what you’re going to say. That I need to come home. That you all need me here. That you miss me. You don’t even know me, not anymore. You knew that 17 year old girl. Before the last ten years happened. You don’t know who I am now.”
“I’d like to. I want the chance, Emma. We all want the chance.” He bit back his instinct to tell her it was her own fault that they didn’t know her anymore, knowing it wasn't the time for blame. “It’s not just me, Emma. It’s every last one of us. You belong here. You’ve done nothing, Emma. You don’t deserve to live the life you’re living right now. You don’t deserve any of what you’ve been through these past 10 years. Please, come home.”
“This isn’t my home, Killian.” She wouldn’t look him in the eyes, and gazed out over the cars in the parking lot.
“It should be. You should have never left. You should have come home to us the first chance you had.”
“You’re in my way.” It was all she said, not trusting herself to say anything further.
He moved, and she opened the car door, but he had one final request before she drove off.
“Emma?” She looked up at him for the first time, and saw the pain in his face. “Could you at least write back. Please?”
She said nothing, simply closing her door, and heading towards the sign at the town line, fully intending to never see it again.
It had only been one night, but it had been enough to unsettle her. Returning to Boston, to her “home,” felt wrong when her brain, and if she were honest with herself, her heart, were miles north with her family.
She knew she shouldn’t do it, but couldn’t stop herself. Re-reading all of Killian’s letters, she could now picture almost everything he described in even more detail. Snow’s new haircut, the sound of Leo’s laugh, exactly where everyone would be sitting for Christmas. But now, she also knew exactly where she’d be sitting. She could see herself there, with them. Having a life. And for the first time she realized that it wouldn’t matter what anyone else thought about her. Ruth, David, Snow, and Killian would rather have her there, with them, and deal with anything the town could say, than have her in this self-imposed exile. It was never they who left her. It was she who abandoned them.
If she’d had his phone number she would have sent a text, but smiled knowing it was better this way. Pulling out a legal pad, and a security envelope, she scrawled a quick note.
Killian,
You’re right. And I miss you. Come bring me home.
Emma
She looked down at her words, knowing they were weak compared to the years and years of missives he’d shared. But she knew it would be enough. Emma Swan was always better with action. She left the words to Killian Jones. Feeling light for the first time in years, she ran the letter down to the post office, wanting to ensure it would go out with Monday’s first mail
It didn’t take long. She knew the first few days not to expect anything, but then every set of footsteps in the hallway would set her heart racing, wondering if next she’d hear a knock at her door. She used the days to pack, to resign, to close up any loose ends of her life, but was done faster than even she expected. It was more confirmation that this was not a home, just a place to exist.
When his knock finally came, she knew. It wasn’t Ruby’s knock. Or even Ruby’s grandmother’s knock. It was the knock she’d been waiting for, wishing for.
This time, there was no trying to close the door. When she saw the dark hair, clear, brilliant blue eyes, shining with happiness and hope, she only flung it wider.
The letters continued upon her return to Storybrooke, with one small change. Upon opening the mailbox on Tuesdays and Fridays, he had responses. Her letters were short, as she found it hard to put into words all she wanted to say. But they were more than enough for him.
Killian,
Stop checking the mail. Come back inside. I’d like to kiss you now. And I need you to help with dinner.
Thank you for bringing me home.