#But it turns out they also knew Nicholas separately somehow and just never put the twin thing together

[nobodysdaydreams]

I know people talk about Capt. Noland and Cannonball being old friends with Nicholas like in the books, and when they find out the children are with Nicholas, that’s when they come back into the story, but I have an alternative:

Reynie: I’m sorry Capt. Noland but we have to go, Dr. Curtain has kidnapped and hypnotized Mr Benedict, and now the whole world is in danger!

Noland: Curtain? As in L.D. CURTAIN?

Cannonball: I believe the very same sir.

Noland: *having war flashbacks* He was on our European cruise 5 years ago with his son. He took extra time sightseeing and made us 2 hours late docking in Greece. I was reprimanded quite severely for that.

Cannonball: as was I sir. The paperwork still haunts my nightmares. I believe he also undertipped the waitressing staff. (Though I must say I found his son to be a very polite and artistically talented young man).

Noland: UNDERTIPPING MY STAFF? INEXCUSABLE! THE RULES OF HOSPITALITY ON THE SEAS ARE QUITE CLEAR. NO MATTER. THERE IS NO ESCAPE FROM JUSTICE. SOON WE WILL HAVE LEDROPTHA CURTAIN PLACED IN MARITIME COURT AND AT LAST HAVE THAT TERRIBLE PAPERWORK, THAT STAIN UPON MY REPUTATION, SPONGED FROM THE RECORD! COME ALONG CHILDREN.

Sticky: Well, I mean, thanks for the help but you know Curtain’s done a lot worse. I mean, he created the emergency, did experiments on kids, kidnapped his own family, and-

Cannonball: Yelled at our cleaning staff when they took too long on his room. And I can’t prove this, but I’m pretty sure it was him and what I assumed were his wife and son who stole one of the ships in our fleet about a year ago. I saw what I swear looked like them landing in a helicopter on the ship and taking the vessel but unfortunately I couldn’t reach the ship in time.

Noland: HE DID WHAT? THE AUDACITY AND RUDENESS OF THAT MAN TO DISRESPECT MY STAFF AND STEAL FROM THE CAPTAIN WHOSE VERY REPUTATION HE PUT IN JEOPARDY! DON’T WORRY CHILDREN THIS VILLAIN WILL BE BROUGHT TO JUSTICE!

Sticky: Yeah stealing and rudeness are pretty bad things, sure. But Curtain also-

Kate: they’re willing to help Sticky, let’s not question why.

[razorblade180]

Twin snowflakes part 24: Date Night.

Part 23 here! <-

Still exhausted, Veronica flopped back onto her bed with the help of Nick. The girl let the mattress steal all tension from her body, letting out a sigh of satisfaction. “Aaahhhh! That’s the stuff. Appreciate the help.”

“Don’t mention it. Especially after what you just did. Frankly I had no plan to get Summer to cooperate.”

Veronica chuckled the best she could. “Hehe, not often Nicholas Schnee doesn’t have a plan. I guess you owe me then? Lucky for you I take words of affirmation as payment all the time.”

Nick smiled. It was nice to see Veronica joking. Encountering Shiva always put a dread over him, but she seemed to not care much. That’s Veronica alright, refusing to take crap from anybody. “I could praise you, or how about I praise you over a nice dinner?” Nick quickly responded.

All the neurons in Veronica’s brain suddenly came to a screeching halt. Her body immediately came flinging forward to sit upright to stare at the smiling boy. “What…?” She asked, still processing the question.

“Let me take you dinner.” He said again, “I have a reservation at this place in Atlas tonight. I was gonna cancel but we could just have a night out together. You still haven’t tried much food from here right? Plus I know you still have to be hungry. This works out.”

Veronica couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Did Nick just ask her out on a dinner date? That didn’t sound right, even if it was a thank you gift. As quickly as her eyes lit up, they began to squint at him with skepticism. “What happened with Valerie?”

Now his eyes got big. He wasn’t expecting that response. “Uhhhh what?” His voice gave away his nervousness and Veronica could clearly tell.

“Don’t play dumb with me Nick. I’m not gonna call you a liar or anything, but I know you, and you know me; as well as my feelings.” She said that last part sheepishly. “You aren’t the kind of person to play with my emotions or offer a dinner date when you’re crushing on Val, so what’s up? Be straight with me”

It was becoming clear to Nick that he apparently could be read like a book. This is the third person within twenty four hours to look at him and automatically knew to ask about Valerie. This was ridiculous! His life had many things that made him bummed out. How are people guessing right on the first try!?”

“Uhhhhh” he scratched the back of his head and sighed. No point tip toeing around it. Not like it was a secret or anything, yet his stomach felt queasy all the same. “I ran into her yesterday. She was pretty upset that I didn’t tell her I got sick. I apologized and tried to smooth our recent bickering over with dinner. It was going okay, but then…Val immediately started to brush me off. I got upset, she started deflecting, people started staring, then she really started saying some things that really got me upset; kinda made a little scene out of it before walking off. Nor really princely, huh?” He tried smiling at the self jab, but failed. “Anyways, next time we meet per her request more a less will be at the tournament. We currently aren’t on speaking terms. Something she should be fine with since distance was what she wanted in the first place.”

Veronica could hear a little venom in those words. Val really did have Nick upset. He’s never this openly bitter. Though maybe it was being behind closed doors that allowed him to drop the facade of being consistently pleasant. Frankly, that made Veronica a little happy for him, in an odd way. However… “I see. So I assume that this dinner reservation was for you and her?” An answer wasn’t needed. Nick’s moment of sulking was replaced with a guilt ridden look on his face the moment she asked. “You know, kinda shitty you’re asking me to a dinner meant for another girl that turned you down. Not a fan of being someone’s second choice.”

Nick closed his eyes and let in a sharp breath like he had just been hit. “Oooo yeah, yeah that was pretty messed up for me.”

“Mhmm, big time. No girl wants to hear that you know?”

“I didn’t mean- I wasn’t trying to...sorry. That was tasteless and selfish of me.” He looked down, shamefully and with genuine guilt. It was only when Veronica’s hand lifted his head by his chin did he see the girl stare at him with an observing gaze and lips pouting to the side. She then crossed her arms and looked away from him, ears tucked and a tinge of red visible on her.

“You’re lucky you’re a good person and I am hungry. I…guess you could apologize with a good dinner?” Veronica knew he wasn’t trying to be insensitive. Still, she was more than a little ticked off at herself for letting him off easy. Darn his good qualities! Being mad towards him for long was never gonna happen. Not to mention having a calm outing together is a golden opportunity. No way she wasn’t gonna capitalize off of Valerie’s mistakes. Her eyes shifted towards Nick to see a relieved smile that only made staying upset harder.

“This place better be good! Also I’m gonna order every expensive thing possible!” Veronica declared, attempting to save face.

“Hehe, thank you, and go right ahead and order anything you want. It’s not until around nine so please, get some rest.”

“I should be saying that to you. Isn’t going out at night in the cold while moody only gonna give you more sniffles?”

“Pfft, I’m sick anymore. Just focus on healing and rest. Not that I have to tell you this, but you gotta dress nice for where we’re eating.”

Veronica smirked, pointing at a closet of designed outfits. “Careful. I may not be worth billions but I’ll make you look like a pocket change if you don’t wear you best.”

The boy let out a cocky chuckle before walking to the door. “For your information, I’m two billion.” He said puffing out his chest playfully, leaving on that note. He could hear her gentle laughter behind the door. At least he could lift one girl’s spirit. As for the other, Nick looked at his sister’s locked door. He couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t going to knock, but he had to at least walk to it. Come to think of it, Nick had a hard time remembering when this door remained open. Most days it kept either the warmth in, while shutting others out. Slowly he rested his hand against it. The wood, cool to the touch.

“Tell me what you need.” He thought, “I’m not a mind reader…” Nick could only sigh. He removed his hand and stepped back. As he began to walk, the door moved. As if something was pressed against it from the other side.

“I know you’re there.” Summer said from the other side. Nick quickly walked back to it. Somehow he could imagine how she was on the other side. One leg extended while the other was bent as she pressed her back to the door. Nick took a seat himself, mimicking the pose he envisioned.

“You okay?”

“Far from it, but that’s par for course…” Summer looked over her shoulder as if she was actually resting against her brother’s back. “Honestly I feel so fucked up some days that therapy feels like a joke. I think I need a break.”

“What kind of break?”

“The usual…” Summer let her words draw out lazily. The back of her head rhythmically tapped the door. “Care to join me?”

Nick tugged at the carpet fibers, mulling it over. “Mmmm sorry, I’m not in the mood for that kind of relief. Besides, I already have plans. I’ll cover for you though. I think venting could do some real good for ya. Just don’t stay out too long. Leave around… half past nine.”

“Will do, thanks Nick.” Even though a door separated them, Summer could feel the care from the other side. Veronica’s words back in the forest about Nick and how Summer treats their relationship struck an all too sensitive cord. “I promise not to worry you. Have fun with whatever you’re doing tonight. I’ll keep you updated and everything.”

“Don’t stress about it. I believe in you. Anyways, I gotta get going. I think I’ll do a bit of distressing in my own way.” Nick stands up. “Better go while there’s daylight.”

“Gonna pay respects?”

“Yep. Enjoy your outing. I’ll see ya tomorrow if I don’t see ya tonight before I leave. Love ya.” He walked away after that, not expecting a response. Didn’t need one. After all, Summer coming to the door said enough.

All in all, things felt okay. Life felt okay. By no means was it perfect, but Nick was thankful he had blessings to count. He’d feel better after the tournament. What should’ve been an exciting time was getting more troublesome. Training, performing, fighting Darren in the duos, and now a not so friendly rematch with Valerie. At least Eliza still had a sportsmanship attitude. He still needed to ask her favor as well. By the end of this she would certainly be sick of him. Nick was surprised she didn't block his number yet. That would royally suck.

His slow walk took down the stairs and back to the front of the manor. He heard dishes clanking from the door to the far left while he grabbed his dark blue winter coat off the rack. “That you dad?” The kitchen door swung open to show Jaune drying a cup and Yang waving in the background as she held a slice in her mouth while talking to Blake. How they managed to swipe pizza out of Veronica’s room was beyond Nick.

“What’s up?” Jaune said, noticing his son put his jacket on. “Heading out? Your mom and aunts should be back soon. Pretty sure they’d want-”

“Veronica and I are going on a dinner date later.” Nick interjected. As planned, his father was derailed. Stammering footsteps came plopping out of the kitchen in the form of a very wide eyed blonde, and a shocked ninja. Blake’s ears even did the little twitch Nick as seen Veronica do whenever she’s caught off guard. “Yeah I thought you all should now. I’d say don’t bug her about it and let her rest, but considering Yang’s feet are already pointed towards the stairs…”

Yang looked down. “Huh...how about that?” She said, walking up the stairs with Blake trying to stop her.”

“Let her rest Yang!”

“But I wanna say stuff~” she whined, “I guarantee you she’s listening to us right now.”

Yang was right on the money. Veronica was currently judging how much strength it would take to lock the door. Her odds were bad. “Okay I don’t care how cute he is. This was cruel!” Veronica thought loudly to herself.

Jaune watched Blake slowly get dragged up the stairs by trying to stop Yang. Without looking, he leaned forward and reached out to grab Nick’s shoulder, who was trying to slowly back up to the door. He faced forward and smiled. “Good attempt, but you’d need a better distraction than that.”

“Eh it was worth a shot…” Nick sighed. He was pulled forward and fell into a surprise hug. He stood silently for a minute before wrapping his arms around his dad. “You needed a hug?”

“Not really, but you looked like you did.” Jaune said, squeezing tired. “You know you’re growing up into a fine young man. Better than me by a long shot at your age. I hope you know your entire family is proud of you.”

“I know dad…” Nick said, his voice getting stuck in his throat a little.

“I know I can’t relate to some of the pressures you feel. Honestly being a part of a household with this much attention and expectation still gets me anxious from time to time. So don’t hesitate to vent to me. You’re a young adult yeah, but I’m still my son and sixteen. Weiss and I would much rather see you yell at an annoying cameraman or get scrappy with a bully than see you try to hold it in for the sake of family image. Remember that.”

How did he do it? It was unfair, downright cheating almost in Nick’s eyes. How could so many people easily call him out? “What’s the point of enduring if everyone I wanna reassure sees right through the act? So much for a brave face.” He muttered. Jaune finally let go of him. The compassionate father poked Nick right where his heart was.

“Enduring an ordeal for the sake of others is pretty brave in my book, but who said you couldn’t endure hardships and still be open to those who matter? Have you meant your friends and family? Besides your sister I don’t think there’s a soul close to you who isn’t an expert of seeing past masks. Val and Vee live with bleeding hearts and the rest have had to put up with me!” He chuckled, “Just like I’m sure you know when someone is upset.”

Nick had his doubts. “Mmmmm, starting to think I might not know them as well as I think. Val is...ugh, I don’t know she is. Learned about Vee’s traits recently for the first time, and Summer-”

“Okay, I see your point. But! Learning new things about them and knowing there’s things you don’t know, doesn’t erase what you did. Y’all are teens. There’s a bunch of things to sort through. At the end of the day though, you know them where it counts. Does that make sense?”

“....Yeah, I think I do.” Nick nodded, thanks dad. Seriously. It’s kinda scary how good at talking you are.”

“Comes with practice, specifically learning to listen and just watch closely. You may not realize it but you do this plenty. It’s a big reason people gravitate towards you. Well… people who are just money hungry anyways, but that’s more of a rich person policy than a Nick-ism. I digress! You better get going before your mother comes back and give you her own talk.” Jaune said. He opened up the door for Nick to leave. “From the way you’ve been acting I assume you’re heading to pay your respects?”

Nick nodded, “I’ll try not to be terribly long. Don’t tell mom unless she asks. You know how she gets?” Nick walked through the door, fist bumping his dad on the way out.

Jaune closed the door and went back to the kitchen. Somewhere above him he could hear giggles and a few squealing. “Hopefully nothing catches on fire up there.”

“You are starting a fire!” Blake yelled, trying to contain Yang’s excitement so the blonde’s hair would stop flaring up. “Use your words.” Blake laughed.

“Please…” Veronica groaned. This level of energy was higher than usual. “You’re more excited than me. It’s just a dinner date. Barely even that. More like a thank you gift I suppose.” That being said the blush coming to her face clearly sung a different tune. “Can we please talk about anything else? I mean mom, you’re here!”

Blake crossed her arms. “So I heard you got into a fight? Let’s talk about that.”

“Ummm, so this date, any suggestions on what to wear?” Veronica poorly deflected. Blake didn’t even respond and Yang was smart enough not to. There was no choice but to talk about it unfortunately. “Sigh….I know okay? Ma told me I should’ve eaten and I didn’t listen. I should’ve, or learn to walk away from-”

“I’ll stop you right there. Don’t think for a second I wasn’t okay with a person getting hit when they were clearing harassing you.” Blake took a seat on the bed. “Expecting you to balance instinct, emotions, and logic here in Atlas was never in the cards, because frankly we don’t know what that balance is. Not to say I assumed you’d fight here. All I wanted was for you to try and...take a break from the norm.”

“If that’s the case then school should’ve been removed right off the back. It doesn’t matter the location, people act the same. Different faces, same insufferability. Only difference is these bozos are rich and human.”

“You make it sound like you aren’t crushing on a rich human whose parents are allowing you to stay in their manor.” Yang deadpanned. “Not making you go to school would only leave you bored and gods know what you’ll do with too much time on your hands. Then again you managed to stir things up already by stealing a spot on the cheer team.”

Blake did a double take. That wasn’t mentioned earlier. “Cheer team? How did that happen?”

“A girl got cocky with me so I out performed her. Honestly I was more than a little surprised by it all. Holding pom-poms, doing flips on mats, and even the couch blowing the whistle, kinda forgot what those things were like until I was in the moment.”

“See? That’s a change from norm.”

“Pretty sure that counts as a return to form.” Veronica countered. “It’s whatever though. Just a temporary thing. Although I’ll admit that Eliza chick, Marigold’s kid, she’s pretty decent.”

Blake wasn’t expecting that easier. “Oh? Well that’s nice. Sounds like that could be not so temporary?”

“Eh, whatever happens, happens.” It was a nice thought. Veronica couldn’t deny that. “Any other thing you wanted to discuss with me? I’d like to lay down for a bit longer.”

“How’s it feel to discuss all this genetic stuff with Nick and Summer? Call it what you want, but telling them was no different from a therapy session if it made you feel better.” Blake stated.

Veronica frowned. “Not how I see it. I’m pretty indifferent for the most part I’d say. Haven’t thought deeply about it. Veronica plopped her head on the pillows and turned away.

Blake and Yang took their scrappy daughter’s hint to leave. Blake got off the bed and was more than fine revisiting the discussion later. Yang briefly bent over Veronica’s covered face and kissed her head.

“Muah! By the way, I’m pretty sure Nick would love to see you in his colors. No heels though. He’s a little touchy about his height.” Yang left after that, closing the door gently. Veronica could only lay there pondering the advice.

“Hmmmm that could work.”

xxxx

While the youth finally got some rest, Adults were hard at work trying to piece together all that’s happened. Ruby and Weiss scoped out the undisturbed frozen lake along with Winter, Nora, and Penny most importantly. Though there wasn’t much to go on. Just crushed rocks, claw marks from ferocious grimm, and a mix of blue and red blood that made Weiss particularly uncomfortable. Ruby sensed that uneasiness and quickly began rubbing her partner’s back.

“Your daughter’s fine.” Ruby reassured. “If what she said is accurate then she never actually lost control.”

“Yeah but the blue dyed snow before us means she just barely held on. That’s too close for comfort.” Weiss held her hands together gently. “It feels like things are getting worse.”

“Because you’re in the thick of it.” Nora spoke, projecting her voice to get their attention. The strong and prideful woman made her way over to them. “Every day you’re worried for her and wake up knowing your daughter is a few rooms away upset. A parent is only as happy as their saddest child, and seeing Summer so distant makes it difficult to see the good stuff. This situation is trying, yes, but Summer still fought back. Your daughter fought Shiva off and killed grimm to protect someone. Determination like that is a sign Summer isn’t done fighting by a long shot, so that means you shouldn’t mope. I mean she gets all that strength to defy assholes from you.”

Ruby gave a big smile. She couldn’t have said it better herself. “Yeah! Nora’s right. We’ll turn this around.”

“....Geez, you two ever stop being helpful?” Weiss said, smiling gently. She was happy to have them here. “Thank you, especially you Nora.”

“Considerate my way of apologizing if Valerie really upset Nick. I told her she needed to call him, especially after him having the decency to call me so I could keep her in the loop about this. Apparently she wasn’t very pleased that he was ill and didn’t mention it. She’s….a lot sometimes.”

“Hey, so were we. I’m sure she means well and I’m not oblivious to the fact Nick can be...a lot as well. I’m partly to blame. I enable some of his actions towards her from time to time. I think I’m projecting a bit. Maybe I should tell him to move on?” Weiss sighed. Perhaps she played matchmaker too much and misread things.

Nora could only chuckle. “Hehe, I wouldn’t. Believe me when I tell you Valerie doesn’t hate having Nick look her way. A little forwardness is the only way she’ll acknowledge problems she doesn’t want to deal with. I can’t say for certainty what those problems are but I don’t pin any of it Nick. Val has a way of wanting her cake and eating it too. She’s gotta learn hard ways that’s not how life goes. I just hope Nick finds it in himself to not hate her because of this.”

“Pfft, I don’t think hate truly exists in his vocabulary.” Weiss laughed. She could count on her hand how many times Nick truly despised a person. “He’ll be petty about it I’m sure, but that’ll go away. Space between them might be good. At the end of the day I at least want them to still be close. Val has a way of motivating him that I like. He actually has fun.”

“Yeah, my Little Thunderhead excels at moving people, that’s for sure. Her semblance would be pretty mediocre otherwise if she wasn’t.”

The three continued talking lightly until Penny eventually walked up with Winter. “Okay, so I’ve finished running some tests of the area and the deposit of Diamond Dust. I have….unique results.” Penny said, a bit baffled.

Ruby wasn’t a fan of that statement. “Ummm that doesn’t sound great coming from a person who reads books written in binary. What did you find?”

“This dust is less volatile than the samples in my lab, even though it’s been untouched for longer. By all means it should be more refined.”

“Well isn’t it a good thing that it isn’t?” Weiss asked. “We barely handle what we have.”

“True, but it’s strange. There’s a couple possibilities that may explain this. Summer may have used up some unintentionally, or maybe Shiva herself was syphoning it.”

Winter folded her arms, “Not a fan of that second option. Based on the story though, what if it wasn’t touched at all?”

“Panic attack.” Penny said immediately. “She hasn’t been here since the accident, right? It’s entirely plausible that Summer’s mind and body remembered the trauma. Repressed memories or outright fear and anxiety could be the basis for this entire event. I tried contacting Oscar if he’s noticed anything different in Summer’s behavior, but I can’t get in contact with him. The seas have been rather violent lately due to weather changes.”

“So what you're basically saying is we're as lost as usual?” Weiss said, falling backwards into the snow. “Juuuuuust great. I’m going to assume the pain attack option then. That’s something I can work on with her. If Shiva is by any chance stronger now then the only thing we can do is what we always do. Brace ourselves.”

Ruby looked down at Weiss. “And option one actually means we have less dust to deal with. That’s a plus!” She knew it was a small amount of positivity but every bit helped. Weiss smiled at her and sat up.

“Here’s hoping for option one as well I suppose. We should probably head back. This place creeps me out a bit.”

Ruby helped Weiss up and everyone began leaving. Penny kept staring at the data she collected and trying to call Oscar. Unfortunately the man wasn’t answering. Her displeased sigh was heard by Winter, who rubbed the girl’s back.

“Not to be insensitive, but your son and Qrow wouldn’t do anything too crazy out a sea would they?”

Winter laughed nervously. “Hehehe….I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t inspire confidence!” Penny yelped. Now she was only going to think about them being stranded by the gods or in a storm. Hopefully she would hear from him soon. “I guess a deeper study will have to wait. Ruby, can I stay at your place with Whitley for a bit? I don’t wanna go home yet. Too lonely.

“Sure thing! Door is always open. Though I bet you’ll have a livelier time at the manor these days.”

Penny tried her best to act like that would be a good idea. “Tempting, but a certain blonde teenage girl wouldn’t like that much, considering her parents so desperately want my husband to be her therapist. Summer also sees me enough as is. Nick would be happy I was there.” She said in a happier tune.

“He’s not home if I know him well enough.” Weiss frowned. “Times like these, I’m sure he’ll visit the graveyards.”

Truly, her son was easy to read.

xxxx

Right now the boy in question walked through an alley of tombstones and snow, his and covered in pollen. Atlas’s central graveyard had become a place for Nick over the years. The wide space and solitude became a welcoming barrier that blocked out most strangers from approaching him. Even the paparazzi had enough tact to not disturb a person here. His feet carried him down multiple lanes towards an old tree barren of any leaves looming over a grave with no actual tombstone. Standing before it was Eliza, wearing a dark blue winter coat and deep in thought. He wasn’t expecting to see her today.

Nick kept approaching until he stood beside her silently. A cool breeze went by them as the air itself felt still. Eliza eventually shifted her gaze to him, completely aware he was there. She looked down at his dusty yellow hands before speaking. “Talking to your grandma again?”

“Yeah. She says I should eat more sandwiches. Afraid I’m a little too then.”

“Heh, always witty. Visited your gramps yet?”

Nick shook his head, “No that’s halfway across Atlas from here and further from my home. It’s the next stop. What about you? Didn’t expect you to be here today.”

“Haven’t been in awhile.” Eliza waved her hand to cause a brief gust that blew away the snow from the grave and several others. “It needed cleaning and I was in the area. So what brings you here specifically? You only visit here on anniversaries, holidays, and when you’re moody. Last time I checked this is a random day, soooo”

“Eh don’t worry about it. Everything is alright now. Just decompressing.”

“Fair enough.” Eliza put her hands in her pocket and went back to thinking, until she realized Nick was looking at her again. “Uhh can I help you?” She said a little confrontational.

Nick got a little defensive and spoke quickly. “No, just surprised you’re not pressing me to open up.”

“Why? Your business is your business unless you make it my business. Something you’ll do if your attitude negatively affects the preparation for the tournament.”

“Ouch...well if that’s the case then the favor I’m about to ask you shouldn’t refuse.”

That peaked her interest. Eliza actually turned around fully. “You’ve been asking a lot of favors of me lately.”

“I’ve asked like two favors, and you’re the one telling me to directly involve you if-”

Eliza covered his mouth, irritated by him being right. “I know what I said! Sigh… what’s up?”

Nick looked down at the hand on his mouth, getting Eliza to remove it. “You’re lucky I didn’t lick it.”

“You’re lucky I don’t beat you up on hollow ground.”

Nick smirked. “Oh, so you think you can finally take me?”

Eliza squinted at him as her face got a little red. Why the hell did he have to be like this sometimes!? “The next words you speak better be your favor, or I’m walking away.”

“Well I wouldn’t exactly call it a favor but if you’re training by the harbor tonight, I’d appreciate it if you swooped by the seventh dock. The one with the huge building they rarely put cargo in. Summer is going to be there blowing off some steam. I don’t think anything will go wrong but you know, if you got the time…?”

“Hmmm I guess that’s not unreasonable. Wait, how do you know I train by the harbor!?”

“Did you forget my cousin literally owns a ship? If I’m correct, one time he said his sail caught on fire when a random bolt of lightning came down one day.”

“......” Eliza put her hand back in her pocket and began walking. “You’re really annoying Nick.”

“I’ve done nothing! Also I’m not done talking! I actually do have a real favor I’ve been mulling over for about a day!” Eliza kept walking away from him. “Hey! Don’t just- Can you train me!?” He shouted, hoping to gain her interest again.

It worked wonderfully. Eliza stopped mid-step and pivoted around. “Excuse me?”

“Training, yeah uh there’s this thing Schnee’s do called the candle test. Helps with our glyphs. Long story short, I’m ass at it hehe. Summer has stuff going on and it’s not really clicking with my mom or aunt. Since your magic is sorta like what I have to do, I thought maybe-”

“We are in a contest against each other, Nicholas.” She said firmly. “You are my opponent! One of two people currently in my way from reaching the top. Why on Remnant would I help you?”

Nick’s eyes avoided contact with hers. He began to scratch the back of his head as if he’d been caught red handed in a lie. “Because… you value sportsmanship?” He looked at her to receive an unamused blank stare that was colder than the snow. “Uh, and also you helping me in any capacity will let you in on a proposition that you’d find very intriguing. But I’ll only tell you when we’re training.”

“Tsk, I would think a Schnee would know better how to do business negotiations. Why would I make a deal when I don’t know if I even care about it? You tell me now or not at all.”

“I can’t say it now! I gotta smooth out details.”

“Then I guess we’re done here.”

“Fine, then I guess you don’t want a shot at gold with a sure fire way of at least getting silver!” He boasted, catching Eliza off guard. Nick slicked his hair back and crossed his arms to intimate his uncle’s calm yet assertive demeanor. “Yeah that’s right. I’m saying I have an idea crazy enough to benefit you and I. Everyone wants gold of course. However, you got a little more riding on this, don’t you?”

Eliza remained silent. Nick began walking a little closer to refrain from speaking too loud. “Last year was your real debut to the public eye and it was pretty good one at that. Third place is nothing to snuff at in the singles bracket. However...trust me when I say I know third is the worst seat in the house. That’s where the pressure and stress is. One mistake and you're off the podium and that feels terrible when people finally start looking your way.”

Eliza began tapping her foot. He wasn’t wrong. Not by a long shot. Confident as she was, Eliza was aware of her only two options. Do better, or hit the same bar. Winning was the goal but no one was gonna give her shit for losing to the top two contests. Nick and Valerie have been dominating for about three years now, and here he was saying he can get her to second. “Get to the point.”

Nick unfolded his arms. Time to be gentle again. “I cannot get into specifics at this time, but if you wanna show up at the manor anytime this week to help me, we can talk. I can get you second at minimum in King of the Hill.

His eyes burned with eagerness. Eliza had so many questions but obviously he wouldn’t answer them. This plan clearly had to be in his favor to get first, which neither of them had earned before. However, Valerie was first. How did she fit into this? What was going through his head!? Eliza had to know what regardless if she’d actually be okay with it. Her eyes narrowed at him. “Tsk, I take back what I said. Guess you are a Schnee. I will see when I can come over and help. Now, any other obnoxious request before I get driven away from this conversation?”

“Well……” Nick could feel just how dangerous this situation was. “It’s quite a walk to the other cemetery from here….hehe.” Laughing was hard when someone’s nostrils were flaring at you in frustration. Getting closer might’ve been a terrible decision.

Eliza closed her eyes briefly, then turned around to walk away. She went a few steps before briefly stopping. “Knock the snow off your shoes before you step in.”

Nick lit up like a Christmas tree. “You’re the best!!!”

“Why did he get more votes than me!?” Eliza internally screamed.

xxxxx

The day seemed to drag on. It had taken some time for Weiss to return home with the company of her sister and Ruby. Nora had departed earlier to check in on her family. Penny had opted to head towards Ruby’s home before her. They would’ve gone together but Ruby did want to see her niece and Blake. Penny had yet to properly see her friends. Though she wanted to, she thought it best to hold off for now.

The trio walked into the house and were assaulted by the strong scent of what had to be Jaune’s amazing cooking. They could practically see the aroma of spices dance in the air. One spice in particular hit Ruby. It was subtle but sharp at the same time. The kind of spice that sent a zing through your nose and hit your tastebuds. A mouth watering smile spread on her face and her stomach growled.

“Mmmmmm” Ruby hummed, “Somebody brought spices with them from Menagerie.” She sang. Ruby and Weiss wasted no time heading to the kitchen. Inside was an apron-wearing knight stirring a pot of stew, and their favorite faunus in the whole wide world in an apron cutting vegetables.

Blake didn’t even need to turn around to know what giggling pair just entered the kitchen. She put the knife down all the same and turned around with her arms wide open. “Well-” she couldn’t even say her boastful introduction before her two cheecky smile teammates dove in for a hug. All three of them just became a choir of happy laughter as they embraced one another.

Weiss finally let her friend go to get a good look at her. “Look at you! Traveled all this way and you’re helping make dinner!? I don’t deserve you!”

“Well I saw Jaune breakout a pot and I figured he’d enjoy some help without fear of something burning.” Blake jabbed. Ruby immediately tucked her lips to stop herself from snickering at the diss.

Weiss’s jaw dropped. She still smiled however, crossing her arms. “Oh ha ha, I’ll have you know my cooking is leagues better than what you remember since last time you had it. I can cook amazing meals all by myself!”

“As long as it doesn’t involve a fryer.” Jaune added, walking over to kiss his wife’s cheek really quick.

Weiss’s face got a little flushed. “Grease is bothersome.” She mumbled. Blake could only chuckle at the remark while walking to the pot and dumping the vegetables inside. The smell of the stew intensified and reminded Weiss she is still very much the weakest in her friend group when cooking was involved. “How are you going to outdo me in my own home? Why’d you bring spices in the first place!?”

“Don’t question it!” Ruby shouted. Her body went on autopilot to grab the plates and cups for the dinner.

“Ruby, aren’t gonna make dinner at home?” The room said, thinking about Whitley.

Ruby then proceeded to grab one of Jaune’s tupperware containers. Apparently they were now feeding Whitley as well. Ruby knew they wouldn’t mind, so she felt no remorse when filling it. Her boldness knew no bonds.

“Ruby, how do you know they aren’t making enough food for the people in this house?”

“Because this household would crumble anytime Jaune did a mission and didn’t make enough food for weeks.”

“I can cook!!!!” Weiss yelled.

Jaune playfully rolled his eyes and patted Weiss’s back. “Ruby isn’t completely wrong. Anyways she can take as much as she wants. Nick and Veronica have a dinner date tonight so they won’t be joining us for dinner. Then I don’t if Summer-”

“Nick and Veronica have a date!?” Weiss and Ruby shouted.

“Oh yeah… that happened while you left.” Jaune tried to reach for the ladle for the stew but Weiss swatted his hand before turning his head back to her. Fortunately Blake swooped in to continue stirring. “Yeah so they’re going on a date tonight. I don’t know details.”

Weiss turned to Blake who shrugged. “I didn’t press Veronica too much about it. Yang should be upstairs with her trying on dresses.

“Behold! A beautiful sunflower in the snow!” Yang cried out from outside the kitchen unexpectedly.

“Or I guess she’s downstairs now.” Blake turned off the burner on the stove and moved the pot before following her friends out to the main hall. Outside was Yang standing proudly with her hands on her hips and staring up the stairs proudly. Jaune and Weiss’s eyes went wide while Winter seemed….impressed? As much as she could be. Her feelings towards Veronica in general were mixed. The girl was definitely beautiful though. That was just a fact.

Blake looked up to see her daughter all dressed up at the top of the steps. She wore a white, thin strapped dress that had a light blue sash around her waist. The skirt portion went down to about knee level and the flats she wore were also white. The bottom of the skirt brought more color in by being an intense light blue that faded to white half way up; lace snowflakes were intricately etched on to that portion to break the color up. Gloves that went just passed her elbows followed a similar scheme but started white at the hands before transitioning to blue. To top it all off, a pretty little light blue ribbon formed a bow on top of her head. It was that accessory that made Blake notice that not only wet her ears gone from sight, but so was her tail.

Veronica’s face was stricken with a decent shade of red. Her feet shuffling in place a little as she rubbed her left arm. “So….ummm thoughts?” She said anxiously. “This is just one of several ideas so no need to hold back.”

“Several? What, did you make these in a couple hours?” Winter asked.

“No. I’ve been working on a Fire and Ice collection recently. This dress in particular was already put together for the most part. Although the snowflakes at the bottom was a last minute decision I made half an hour ago.” Veronica swayed to make the skirt flow side to side. “Normally I’d say adding flames or snowflakes is a bit heavy handed since the colors of the outfit already speak fire and ice, but I don’t know. Felt appropriate. Especially since the white lace is on the blue. I even have them on the upper rim of the gloves. Made sleeve versions too.” Veronica inspected the stitching to make sure it was okay. “Hmm not my best work, but I kinda like it.”

“I kinda love it!” Yang proudly said. “Oh it takes me back to the Beacon dance a little. Back then another Schnee was outdone by a Xiao Long wearing white.”

“Ha, no! Your dress didn’t even look done!” Weiss shot back, refusing to take such slander. “This dress is ten times better than what you wore.”

Ruby nodded. “Yeah sis, your dress was pretty plain. Didn’t even have a bow.”

“I couldn’t find one!” Yang defended.

Judging by the banter, Veronica was getting positive vibes from the dress. She looked at Winter since the woman was there. Surprisingly, a thumbs up was given. “Well that was more positive than I expected from her.” Veronica thought. The only person who remained silent was Blake. Veronica turned to see her mother assessing what her daughter had on. The silence she gave made Veronica a little concerned. “What’s up mom? Not a fan of how thin the straps are? It’s not a low cut anywhere.”

“No, all that is fine. I just have to ask, why-” before Blake finished, the front door opened once again with Nick coming through it this time. Everyone froze in place by his sudden entrance. Including him!

“Uhhh why is everyone just standing in the front of the house?” Nick questioned. It was only when he looked up the left staircase did he get his answer. “Oh, that’s why. You look...wow.” He said, rather clumsily. “I didn’t think you’d get ready three hours ahead of schedule. I still gotta wash up from the grav- I mean my walk. Yeah, walk, around town. With no real location stopped at.” He had no idea why he kept saying things. The deadpanned look on Winter and Weiss’s face clearly showed they knew where he was.

Weiss gave a reassuring smile and poked his forehead. “No need to lie, especially so poorly. If talking to them brought you some form of clarity then by all means have at it.”

“Yeah it’s not my business either.” Winter added, ruffling his hair.

Veronica wasn’t exactly sure what they were discussing, but it looked like things were going well. Nick even looked like he was in a better mood then when he left. His eyes went back to Veronica and made her fidget a little. The gaze he gave her was focused, deliberate even.She didn’t know how to feel about it until Nick began to look a tad displeased. “I-Is something wrong?” Veronica asked hesitantly.

“Not wrong, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cover your ears. Tail yeah, since it can get in the way a bit, but why the bow?” He asked, pointing at it from afar. Everyone looked towards her for an answer, especially Blake. Nick had beaten her to the question.

Veronica looked down at her feet for a moment before looking at her family, crush, others. She never really knew what to call Weiss or her siblings. “Well normally I wouldn’t cover them, but while you were gone I kept thinking about this date…and how I wanted it to be a simple night out.” Heat began to rush to her cheeks. “So you know, people will stare and judge less if I’m like this. Not that their opinions matter, but I’d like to keep things peaceful as much as possible tonight. That’s all.” She looked at Blake who was looking right back at her. The answer didn’t seem to upset or surprise the mother. Veronica played with her a bit. “Is...that okay?”

“Hmm? You’re asking permission? It caught me off guard seeing it. Whether it be for aesthetic or personal reasons, I won’t dictate how you wanna design your clothes as long as it’s appropriate. After all, ribbons and I have a history. Couldn’t judge you if I wanted.”

That was a relief to hear. Veronica had completely forgotten her mother wasn’t a stranger to trying to blend in. “Well if that’s settled-”

“Hold on.” Nick softly said, his calm footsteps walking up the stairs to meet her. Everyone fell speechless as they watched him. Veronica for some reason felt as if the mood had changed. The room was quieter, air completely still. The face of the boy in front of her began to look more earnest than it has ever been as it got closer, stifling her breath. Nick extended his hand out slowly till his fingers clasped a corner of the bow, then unraveled it.

The ribbon flowed slowly into his palm and then was brought down towards Veronica’s. “If a calm night means you have to hide, then is it really a calm worth having? Like you said, those people don’t matter. Besides, I like your ears.”

Burst, Veronica felt like her heart could’ve burst. The blush on her cheeks deepened greatly and her eyes went wide from the shocking words. She had barely remembered to breathe. If she paid attention to the audience below then she would’ve been embarrassed by the grins that went ear to ear but no. Veronica only noticed Nick and his gentle smile that matched his words. Her mind finally caught up with itself and Veronica grasped the ribbon ever so slowly.

“O-Okay…” she said without thinking. Anybody else may have gotten more of a debate on it. Not him though. Not after words like those. “I’ll...make a few adjustments then.” She said, flattered and flustered as she walked back to her room without any more words.

“Take your time. You still have about three hours like I said, plus I gotta wash up.” He reminded her, not realizing just how sweet his words were. He turned back around to see smug faces and contained laughter. “What?”

“Nick…” Winter said, smiling with her hands on her hips. “And you wonder why girls flock to you obsessively. You’re too much.”

“I’ll say.” Blake said, admiring the boy. “But you know what? There’s something perfect about that. Nicholas, thank you.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what he did but he got embarrassed all the same, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. At least things finally felt relaxed in this house. “Umm you’re welcome?”

With teasing done and the mood lightened, everyone went back to doing their respective things. Jaune and Blake went back to prepping food. Weiss went with Ruby to set tables and properly catch up, while Yang decided to keep Winter company since both her son and Qrow were off adventuring. The chatter filled the hallways and even reached upstairs to not only Veronica, but Summer, who finally managed to fall asleep peacefully. Even Nick found a bit of proper rest in the bath. The soothing warm water filled with epsom salt was more than enough to make him doze off. Time steadily went forward and the adults began winding down. However, the kids were just getting ready for the night.

xxxxx

Dusk finally came. Winter leaned up against the main door waiting until she saw Nick coming walking down the stairs looking dashing. His crisp white suit, ice blue tie and handkerchief were perfectly in place along with his slick back hair.

“Hey Whitley jr.”

He groaned, “Please don’t. This is why I do nothing with my hair. One minute I look like dad, then the next I’m uncle.”

“Grow it out more then.” Winter suggested.

He shook his head. “That’s a slippery slope. Too long and I’ll be compared to you, mom, and sis. I guess my face is just too great.”

“Pfft, you just know you can’t compete with all this.” Winter sassed, turning her head to sway her hair. Nick would have objected if she wasn’t right.

“Whatever hehe. Anyways, everybody still here?”

“No, Ruby eventually headed home, but everyone else is strung about. I’m heading out myself but I figured I could drop you and Veronica off for your date.”

Nick gave her aunt a huge smile. “Awww, auntie!”

“Oh hush, don’t make it a big deal. It’s convenient, that’s all.”

“Well I appreciate it nonetheless. Veronica will too.”

Winter mumbled,“She better show it by not getting you or sister into trouble.”

“I heard that.” Veronica called from up the staircase. Winter and Nick looked in that direction to see her walking down. Nick wasn’t prepared.

Veronica had switched the gloves out for detachable sleeves that still exposed her shoulders. They also followed the same white to blue pattern. What really changed was she used the ribbon to make a high ponytail and now dawning jewelry. A pearl white necklace rested around her neck and complemented the pearl earrings she wore. Slowly she approached Nick with her hands holding each other in front of her. Veronica’s face was still a healthy shade of red. This close, Nick couldn’t help but smell of peach nectar. An interesting and oddly refreshing choice for perfume.

“Well...ummm...you weren’t kidding when you said you would out dress me.” Nick said, captivated. “I’d say you’re one billion, easily.”

Veronica chuckled nervously. “Hehe,th...thanks. I wouldn’t go that far, but I appreciate it.” Looking at him was harder than usual. Men’s dress shoes had a bit of heel, so Nick actually was a bit taller then her now since she chose flats. It could only be by an inch or two but it made a hell of a difference to her. “I had a little help near the end. These are actually your sister’s pearls.”

“Really? Oh, that’s right! I think the only reason she got them was so this other rude girl couldn’t. I don’t remember the specifics.”

“Wow. You two are….extremely petty at times.” Veronica said. Yeah pettiness was nothing new to her, but she’d never bought something to spite someone else. That’s the lifestyle in Atlas she supposed. “Anyways, if you’re ready to go then I am too. I’d really like to avoid-”

Click! The sound of a camera cut her off. The two teens looked back to see their parents all taking photos. Trying to stop them would be impossible. The only thing they could do is quietly wait for the clicking to stop, which was thankfully over in seconds.

“Gee I didn’t realize I lived with paparazzi.” Nick quipped. Another flash came from up above the second floor. Summer and her bed head leaned against the railing. “Summer!? You too!?”

“I came down to eat and saw we were embarrassing you. How could I not?” She took one more photo and then made her way down to the kitchen. “Have fun. I’m gonna eat and go right back to bed.”

Nick knew she was lying of course. That was the real reason she came down now, to announce she’d be sleeping in her room so nobody would disturb her. Summer, never missing an opening, also collected everything she needed from upstairs without anyone noticing. It was scary how far she’d plan ahead sometimes.

Winter finally decided to open the front door and head out. “Let’s move people. Rich or not, it’s rude to be late for reservations.”

“So strict. Almost think that you’re about to go drill instructor on me.” Veronica jokes, walking out the door.

“Don’t think I won’t make you drop and give me twenty just because you’re in a dress.” Winter shot back, closing the door as Nick walked out.

“The sad thing is she isn’t kidding…” Weiss nervously said. “That’s gonna be a long car ride.”

Summer came out of the kitchen with a bowl of stew and an evil look in her eye. “Why are there less left overs than usual? Who had seconds?”

“Ruby took some for Whitley. As well as had seconds…”

Summer squinted as if Ruby was there to actually receive the grumpy look before putts spoonful in her mouth and walking back upstairs.

“Ma’am, the table. Not your room.” Weiss said, using her mom voice.

Summer did a heel turn to the dining room. “Who made this stew!?” She said annoyed. Jaune and Blake both raised their hands. “It’s fantastic!” Was all she said as she continued walking.

Blake and Yang looked at each other confused before looking at their friends.

“Hangry.” Was all Jaune said.

“Ah…” the couple said together.

The moment Summer was out of sight from everyone she put the bowl down and searched around the living room quickly until she found her guitar case. Quickly, she grabbed it and opened a window towards the side of the estate and tossed it on a set of glyphs that hopefully propelled it right into her open room window. She then ran back to the dining room to sit down and eat comfortably.

“Phew! That was the last thing. And now I wait.” She took another bite of the stew happily. Nothing tastes better than an escape plan coming together.

[justjessame]

Glorious, Before the Burden - The Mourning ~ 8

I’d hardly had a moment to settle into my new home when my first gift arrived. Crying myself to sleep hadn’t worked, not that I’d expected it to, so I was in the small garden - staring up at the night sky when I felt it - a shift like a whisper. Turning around, there it was - a small casket, but I could feel her magic around it - Frigga’s magic.

Tempted to ignore it, or better yet to destroy it, I took a deep breath and reconsidered. Perhaps this was a peace offering. Frigga had been like a mother to me for far longer than she’d been an enemy - so I crouched in the soft grass and reached out, smiling despite myself at the warmth coming off the wood. So like her, as if she was in the garden with me, waiting with her arms open.

Inside, when I opened it, were my dearest belongings - books, jewels, nightgowns - along with enough Midgardian currency to be comfortable for, well I’d have to do some research on how long I could make do with it - and tucked underneath it all was another letter.

 Sigyn ~

I know that what I’ve done is unforgivable. Taking away a part of you that is ingrained in your very fiber to keep a peace within my OWN marriage isn’t something I took lightly, not when I know that it will keep you separated from YOUR love.

When I told you that Loki was many things, but never malicious, I wasn’t lying - I still don’t think I am. Being led astray can happen so easily, especially after not being given the truth - and I did tell you how admirable your honesty was and still is - how your husband’s family should revere you for it. Instead you’ve been punished harshly and by me.

As I’ve said, I don’t expect your forgiveness. I’m sending along your things, not all of them at once, since the Bifrost is still inoperable. It took immense power to send YOU, much less these items - but I will try to send more, as time and magic allows. I do hope that you find solace, if not peace where you are - no matter how inconstant that may sound.

He’s home, a prisoner for his crimes, but he IS home. And I’m only allowed to visit him through illusions. Home, safe, alive, caged - and grieving the loss of you.

Frigga

 I didn’t understand. Most of her words made sense - she was trying to make amends, while admitting that she chose the lesser of evils - my banishment and the removal of any possibility of Loki finding me, should he somehow escape his imprisonment for whatever crimes he committed, but the last part confused me.

Loki grieved the loss of me. The husband I knew and loved would never simply give up on me because he was locked away. He wouldn’t have taken the news that I was banished - even if they refused to tell him where and that they’d removed the ease of his usual course of finding me - and feel defeated by it. To grieve me, to act as if - NO. The feeling of suffocation kept hitting me, and it seemed to always originate from Frigga’s hand.

The ONLY way I could think of for Loki, my husband, to GRIEVE my loss, to feel defeated by it, and to give up - was if they told him I was dead.

 I’d been in Midgard days, mere days, the casket having arrived the night of my arrival and I had unpacked it - put away my things, including the hair picks that Loki had given me and even gone out among my new neighbors to find food and drink, and also add to my wardrobe - magic was wonderful, but I wanted to see precisely what I was supposed to be wearing. I contemplated burning Frigga’s letters, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it - these parchments with the dark ink written in her hand, were the ONLY fragments I had left of her. And even after everything I’d gone through - she was my teacher and my mother.

I was in the cottage, one of my favorite books open and a cup of tea next to me where I’d curled up in the chair that I’d claimed as my most comfortable when a knock came to my door. Thinking of all the very kind and rather personable Midgardians that populated the small village I’d landed in, I marked my place and got up, checking the ornaments I’d added to the twist I’d put my hair in - Loki’s warnings about safety loud and clear now that I WAS living in Midgard.

Looking out the lacy curtain that covered the glass portion of the door, I saw a tall, dark man wearing leather and sporting an eyepatch that brought Odin to mind. My confusion grew, but then he flashed a smile and a golden badge. “Director Nicholas Fury, ma’am,” the door stayed closed as he spoke through it. “I’m with S.H.I.E.L.D.” I waited for him to give me further explanation. “That stands for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.” Blinking at him, his smile didn’t falter. “As an Asgardian who crash landed in the middle of nowhere-shire England, I think you should let me in.”

Asgardian - I sighed. He knew. Unlocking my door, I turned the knob and stepped back to allow him entry. There were others, I could see, ringing my little cottage - “Could you please, ask your -” I groaned when I noticed one of the men stomping through one of the bushes. “Please, don’t destroy the garden!”

Director Fury raised his eyebrow at my tone, but glanced outside and shook his head. “Guys, stand down!” He sounded bored. “I apologize, Miss?”

I glanced up at him, and then back to where his people were starting to retreat - I waited until I could assess the damage and once I was satisfied it wasn’t beyond repair, I returned to the topic at hand. “Miss what?”

He looked bemused. “Your name?” I sighed. “You dropped out of the sky in a flash, three days ago and - let’s just say that’s cause for concern.”

“Why?” I stared up at him. “I’ve done nothing wrong.” Aside from the compulsion to get the cottage, which I have paid for - once the casket came from Frigga and I COULD pay.

He studied me as if he couldn’t decide if I were lying or if I were ignorant. “We had a situation -” Pulling one of the tiny boxes that all my lovely neighbors had held when I first woke from his pocket, he pressed something and then turned it so I could watch -

So I could watch Loki, my Loki run amok - I watched, but I couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t - he would never - Loki wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t hateful or - Seeing him remove a man’s eye, watching him force a crowd to kneel, witnessing the destruction and ruin - I realized he COULD and he DID.

“You didn’t know?” I couldn’t breathe, why couldn’t I - “WHOA,” Director Fury caught me, and then I was sitting in the chair, he was kneeling before me. “You are VERY pale -”

“I -” gasping wasn’t helping. Why was the air too thick? “He -”

“You know him?” I shook my head, no, I didn’t know HIM. Not that Loki. “Are you -”

“Oy, who’re you?” That voice, why was it so familiar? “What’re yer doin’ in ‘ere?”

“Now wait a minute,” Fury was on his feet, but I couldn’t focus, not when the images were flickering through my mind - against the Loki I knew - the soft one who held me and played in the bath with me. “How did you get past my -”

“Dos wankers?” The voice snorted. “Told ‘em what I’ll tell you, she’s my granddaughter, and ye’ll do well ter go.”

“I think you and I both know -” I shook it off, the pain and the confusion - I needed to get him out and away - NOW.

“He’s right,” I nodded, looking up to see that it was my rescuer. The elderly man, kind and smiling. “Director Fury?” He glared down at me, but I had his attention, which is what I needed. “My name is Margaret Elizabeth Johns -”

“After my sainted mother,” the kindly man added, his grin growing. “HER lovely mum, and sadly her married name - she’s a widow.”

“Yes,” I sighed, infusing my voice with all the will and sincerity that I had that first day. “I’m a widow. My husband, Lucas Johns, died in a terrible accident. My grandfather -”

“Michael Griffiths,” my eyes widened, along with his smile. “I asked my girl to come closer to home.”

“He did, and somehow you got incorrect information,” standing up, I touched Director Fury’s hand. “I’m incredibly sorry that you came ALL this way for nothing.”

“For nothing,” he agreed, his eye slightly unfocused.

 He left soon after, a few more nuggets and as Director I knew it would grow with my touch to the others. That left just Michael and I - but I was more than willing to have a sit down with him.

“Griffiths,” I bit my lip. “Your eyes do look familiar now that I think back.” Like Elizabeth’s, observant and eagle sharp.

“You’ve been a story passed down for so many years,” I almost called him out about his less than local accent, but I had a feeling that we all had our own secrets. “In my family, I mean.”

I got him a cup of tea and he told me how not everyone in his family had thought it true, the tale of the newlyweds who had been found at the end of a flash of light - who told a tale of woe so dramatic and traumatic that it would have done well as an offering in a penny dreadful - but were also so in love that who could find fault with them?

“I’m guessing that Elizabeth started the tale?” We were sitting in my sitting room and he nodded. “I knew she was too observant.”

“She thought you did,” his grin was still wide. “Margaret was easier to fool, but Elizabeth - well some of the family can’t be fooled.”

“Like you?” Head tilted, I was smiling with the knowledge that he hadn’t been affected by my little trick when I came to. “I can’t be angry, you just rescued me again.”

“Twats,” he bit out, and I snorted - thankful I wasn’t about to take a sip of tea. “Those S.H.I.E.L.D. types,” he shook his head. “Showing up here to try to equate you with HIM.”

It hurt, to hear even Michael consider Loki in that light, but I understood - somewhat. “Yes, imagine that.”

[angrylizardjacket]

wishful drinking // Charlotte&Lola

Summary: After Charlotte, Peach, and Eileen go missing, everyone else believes they're dead. Everyone but Lola and Tommy. It's difficult to cope and hope at the same time, and sometimes it even reopens old wounds.

A/N: Wow a song fic, christ. Loosely based on Wishful Drinking by Tessa Violet which just gives me so many emotions about Lola. Ido believe this is the single angstiest thing I've ever written on this blog. @misscharlottelee @peachonscreen I'm so very sorry this is so sad and dark jfc. WARNINGS: Focuses on alcohol addiction as a coping mechanism, there is a funeral, acute references to Lola's childhood trauma, a panic attack, and heroin use right at the end there, and there is some very mild implied suicidal ideation

----

separate me from the rest of the herd so I can run away from all of my hurt oh

drink what I want, be what I want, say what you want me to say like I can pretend that I don't wanna end I'm afraid

I'm dangerous

Everyone keeps saying they're dead, but there's no proof so how can they sound so certain?

Lola's already halfway through a bottle of rum, as Charlotte's parents scowl their way through a list of rules that sound more like demands, of what the band is and isn't allowed to do at Charlotte's funeral. For which their is no body. Lola rolls her eyes and takes another drink.

This is the second speech like this that they've had to sit through this week, since Peach and Eileen's parents seemed equally sceptical of the band's ability to behave appropriately at their daughters' funeral. Which was a farce with no bodies. Lola takes another drink and squeezes her eyes shut.

Nikki's got a hand on her thigh, and Tommy's got an arm around her, the three of them squeezed onto a sofa probably built for two.

Nikki was fucked up out of his mind on more drugs than Lola had ever known him to take. Losing Charlotte had broken something inside of him, and when Lola had told him that she and the other girls had gone missing, he'd sworn until his voice was hoarse, crying more genuinely than she'd ever seen him do before. He was terrified of being lucid, of remembering his reality and reacting like that again.

"I wasn't... I was never in love with Charlie, but I really did love her, you know, like I love Tommy; he's like my brother, but she... she was good for us. Better than any of us ever deserved."

Lola takes another drink.

Tommy's lucid and full of rage, two cans of beer and a line of coke before lunch is all he takes now since she's gone, high off anger, demanding people find her, reading maps, triangulating where she could possibly have gotten lost, trying to put together search parties. He, like Lola, won't believe she's gone until he knows for certain, but unlike Lola, he won't take 'her plane disappeared in the mountains of another country, there's nothing we can really do, I'm so sorry' as an answer.

He holds Lola tighter when Charlotte's parents level a teary-eyed glare at him and spit that he's not allowed to start spouting his conspiracy bullshit about her still being alive, at the funeral. He squeezes his eyes shut and turns, pressing his face into Lola's hair and heaving an irritated sigh.

"I know," Lola mumbles back, words spilling into each other. Tommy's breathing is deep and level in a way that's completely controlled, like he's working on subduing his feelings. Nikki gives Lola's thigh a squeeze, but she's not quite sure if he meant to, it could have been a hand twitch. Lola leans against Tommy just a little more, "I know."

She takes another drink.

None of them are allowed to make a speech; Charlotte's mother and Tommy's sister will both be reading eulogies, but if any of the band speaks up, they will be removed from the ceremony.

"What about Razzle?" Vince is the one to speak up, and Lola's breath catches in her throat.

"Nicholas..." Charlotte's mother finally softens her tone, and casts a look to her father, a silent question.

"Nicholas will do his best to prepare an address, but has also told us that he will decide on the day if he will be able to present it," its the fairest thing they've said all day. Their sensitivity to Razzle and his situation keeps Lola from hurling her bottle at them; if they'd shit-talked Charlotte's grieving fiance, she'd have no qualms beating up her missing friend's parents there and then. Instead, all Lola can picture is Razzle, overwhelmingly upset to the point that he can't even bring himself to read a eulogy at his fiance's sham of a funeral.

As much as Lola believes its a sham, she won't push that on Razzle, either way, Charlotte's not here; it hurts like a fresh wound, she can't even begin to imagine how he must be feeling if he really believes she's gone for good.

Lola's bottle is emptying quickly.

"Is Penny okay?" Vince asks, voice soft and concerned for the missing woman's two-year-old daughter.

"She's with Nicholas," Charlotte's mother says, but tears well in her eyes and the words catch in her throat. Charlotte's father puts his arm around her, drawing her in close.

"She keeps asking for Charlotte," his voice cracks, "and... and none of us know what to tell her."

weave a story so I don't have to talk, no, it's not a problem if I never get caught oh

drink what I want, be what I want, say what you want me to say like I can pretend that I don't wanna end I'm afraid

I'm dangerous

Charlotte would either be right furious, or annoyingly understanding, about the fact that Lola is wine drunk and trying to act sober at her funeral. But if Charlotte has a problem with Lola's behaviour at her sham funeral, she should come home and tell Lola herself.

The only people who Lola isn't glowering at are Razzle and Penny. Razzle's in the quietest outfit she's ever seen him in, all black, not a hint of flair or personality, and Penny's been put in a little, frilly black dress, with a black headband which she has thrown on the ground, since she's in the middle of a screaming fit.

Razzle is desperately trying to hold himself together while Penny demands to see her mother at the top of her lungs. Tommy, for all he loathes the pageantry of this funeral, feeling as though it's being put on to make Charlotte's extended friends and family feel less guilty about giving up the search for her, has nothing but kindness and gentle understanding for the man he considered to practically be his brother-in-law.

Kneeling in front of where Razzle's bouncing Penny on his knee, Tommy lays a gentle hand on his other knee, and when Razzle looks to him, as if startled out of focusing entirely on his daughter, there's tears in his eyes. He can't even form words, mouth opening and closing like a fish, but he quickly stills moving Penny, who tries to throw herself on him, her little fists beating his hands insistently, somehow getting louder with her demands.

"I miss mommy! I want mommy!"

Tommy quickly scoops Penny from her father's hands, and Razzle doesn't stop him, just looks on with a painfully helpless expression, like he's not sure what to do with himself now. Tommy chatters away to Penny, hugging her as he takes her to walk around in the sunshine, away from the other guests, and Razzle's lip trembles as his eyes refuse to focus on anything but the beautiful picture of Charlotte her parents chose to display for the event.

Right as he bursts into tears, Lola slides into the seat beside him. No words pass between them, but she wraps him up in a hug, and he holds her tight in response, nails digging into her, apologies babbles almost incoherently, and Lola feels a wave of guilt sweep through her.

The night she'd found out Charlotte had gone missing, she'd gone to Razzle's hotel in tears, full of fury, looking for answers, for anything, knowing only that he and Charlotte had fought right before Charlotte, Peach, and Eileen had taken the spontaneous flight on which they had gone missing. She'd blamed him, at the time, for Charlotte leaving. She'd blamed him, at the time, for Charlotte going missing.

Lola whispers apologies back as best she can in her quietly drunken state, rubbing his back, wishing she'd thought to being her flask; maybe it would have helped ease some of his pain, she knew it definitely would have eased some of hers.

She can't find the words to tell him that she knows its not his fault, not before Tommy comes back right before the ceremony starts, and sits himself on Razzle's other side, Penny quiet in his arms.

When Razzle turns to see his daughter, he sees her reach out with both her arms, asking for a hug. Razzle holds her close, holds her tight, and looks to Tommy with question in his eyes.

"Told her that it was like when you went back to Finland to make music, but a bit longer."

"Momma was sad," Penny's little voice was muffled against Razzle as she refused to let go of her father. Tommy nodded sagely, and Razzle's lip trembled.

"Charlie needed a lot of hugs from Pennylope while you were away; told Penny that you'd need a lot of hugs too, now." Tommy's voice was quiet, his tone gentle like he was still explaining to Penny, and Razzle pulled his daughter back a little, giving her as much of a smile as he could muster.

"You're too good to me, Pennylope; I do need a lot of hugs," and he holds her close again, taking a deep, shake breath, "I'm never gonna let you go."

oh, wishful drinking

tell myself that I'm not thinking bout how I could drown

drown drown drown

wishful drinking

Perhaps part of the reason why Lola can't believe Charlotte's really dead is the fact that Lola had kind of always assumed Charlotte would outlive her. Its morbid, but its not ab inherently false assumption to make, considering Lola drinks probably more spirits than water and gets into fights for fun. Statistically, she should already be dead. So why was she at a funeral for Charlotte.

She finishes her glass of wine and reminds herself firmly that the funeral's a sham.

She can't actually remember how she got to the bar of the hotel that she and Nikki we're staying at in Charlotte and Tommy's home town, but a majority of the people from the funeral were there, to drink and pay their final respects, so Lola assumes one of them had brought her.

She sits at the bar and orders drinks in rapid succession, while Tommy mulls over the same glass of JD for half an hour beside her while chain-smoking and people watching. It feels like they're the only two on the same page, knowing intrinsically that Charlotte's still out there any everyone who refuses to believe that is betraying her.

"Why her?" Lola mumbles into her drink.

"She's not dead, don't you start talking like she is, too," Tommy frowns into his glass. Lola finishes her drink and pushes it out of the way as she rests her arms on the bar, and her head on her arms, looking at Tommy with a strangely blank expression.

"I know, but she's still not here; why any of them? None of them deserve it, deserve to be missing, deserve to have people stop caring about looking for them," Lola's brow creased into the barest frown, "but if people knew that they weren't gone and were just missing, just needed to be found, they'd know they still need the girls," and she gives a forlorn sigh, "they don't deserve this, people still need them."

Behind her, Tommy sees where all of Hanoi Rocks has crowded into a booth with Razzle to keep him company, doing their best to cheer him, to comfort him, each of them taking it in turn to entertain Penny, who was overjoyed at seeing her band-uncles again. The picture looked incomplete without Charlotte.

"Why them?" Lola said softly, sitting back up and ordering another drink, and Tommy hears what she really means this time, the way she implies 'it should have been me'.

go ahead and stop your thinking now

and throw it down

down down down

wishful drinking now

Lola develops a new game over the following weeks, where every time someone mentions Charlotte, she takes a shot. Or four.

Nikki's getting back to normal faster than Lola is, just says that Charlie wouldn't want to see them moping around.

Vince and Mick, still shaken by the loss of Peach and Eileen respectively, agree.

Tommy's still looking for ways to try and find them in his spare time, but focuses on the band so Charlotte will be able to come back and be proud; something about his reasoning makes bile rise in the back of Lola's throat for reasons she can't quite put her finger on.

Lola drinks, because she's come to realise she's useless. She doesn't have the actual band resources to put into helping find the girls, and Doc only keeps her on the payroll because the band won't let him fire her, he doesn't need an assistant.

The only person she would felt safe talking about all of this to was missing.

So Lola drinks.

What else is there to do?

hide your demons where no one can see em, outta sight but in your mind you believe em

drink what you want, be what they want, say what they want you to say like I can pretend that I don't wanna end I'm afraid

I'm dangerous

Lola knows now why Tommy's desperate playing to make sure Charlotte's happy upon her return makes Lola feel sick.

He kept mentioning it, kept asking whether the others thought their new album would be as good as their old stuff, the stuff Charlotte liked, and Nikki had snapped, fed up.

Lola had been in the kitchen when he'd started yelling that she wasn't coming back, and when Tommy hollered that he was an asshole at the top of his lungs.

"If she was alive, she'd be here! But she's fucking not!" Nikki's words rung through the air and were met with stunned silence, "you know why she's not here?" He hissed venomously, and Lola drops the glass she'd been holding, recognising that tone from almost a decade ago.

Nikki, in the present, snaps that its because Charlotte's gone for good, but Lola doesn't hear that. Lola hears her mother.

Lola hears that her father's never coming back because she's a disappointment, because shes not good enough, or kind enough, or talented enough.

The wrong wires connect in Lola's brain in a way that's all too familiar, in a way that makes her scars ache and tears well in her eyes.

And in another moment its gone, and Lola sees the shards on the ground and knows that Charlotte would hate a dirty kitchen. She sweeps them up.

Later, Tommy will find her, and before he can even open his mouth, she's holding his face in her hands, reassuring him that Charlotte would love their new music. His expression brightens, and he kisses her in thanks; something eases in Lola's chest.

No matter where Charlotte is, Lola will never let Tommy believe what was beaten into her for years, she'll never let him believe that he is the reason Charlotte's not here. Nobody deserves to believe that... And yet a voice in the back of Lola's mind tells her she has to do better, for Charlotte.

The voice sounds like her mother's.

do you think do you think that they notice

I keep a bottle by my bed it's the focus

drink what I want, be what I want, say what you want me to say like I can pretend that I don't wanna end I'm afraid

I'm dangerous

After a while, Doc stops praising Lola for showing up to the studio on time and sober - she's absolutely not sober, but she's also not had enough to drink for it to effect her composure. When he stops praising her, she worries that he knows she's always a little buzzed, and then she gets annoyed, thinking that he's just an asshole. It takes her a full week to realise that it's neither, in fact, its just that she's been doing it consistently enough that he's come to expect it of her.

People note her improved work ethic, compliment her even, and its nice, and she knows that if Charlotte were here that she'd be saying nice things right along side everyone else.

Nikki had been right, Charlotte wouldn't want to mope around, so Lola had to actually do well so when Charlotte came back, she could prove that she hadn't been moping.

Sometimes that voice in the back of her mind gets harsh, tells her she's not doing enough, but Lola reminds that voice that Charlotte would roll her eyes at Lola's antics, but she'd somehow always be understanding in the end. Lola didn't need to be perfect, she just needed to be better.

And she was!

She takes a shot to quiet the voice down in those moments anyways, just for good measure.

No-one seems to notice if she's four shots in before noon, one more won't hurt.

this is not a problem if I don't want it to stop

can't call it a problem if I never let a plate drop

this is not a problem if convincing that it's not

don't call it a problem it's the only thing that I still got

Nikki is spiralling into his heroin addiction of his own accord, but Lola knows Charlotte would think they're both better than that; Lola won't be able to convince Nikki, but she can keep herself away from it.

Her job's going well, and she and Tommy are still close, and she is allowed to babysit Penny on nights when Vince takes Razzle out partying. Its trust earned, that she never would have been able to earn if she hadn't been trying to do good for when Charlotte gets back.

But the world goes to hell in a single night.

What the fuck are they meant to tell Penny?

Her dad is dead.

Another thing Charlotte can't come back to.

Turns out they don't have to be the ones to tell Penny; Razzle's parents come to pick up her and their son's body, and though Tommy begs for them not to take her, they're terrified of her ending up just like her parents -

"Charlotte's not dead -"

"Wake up, Thomas, you're putting false hope into this girl's head, it'll ruin her mind if you don't let her live in reality!" Razzle's mother spits, while his father has already taken Penny out to the car to take her to the airport.

Tommy's in tears when he calls Lola.

The pair of them are devastated.

Why would Charlotte come back here if Penny and Razzle weren't here? The only person she'd loved more than Razzle was Penny, and now they were both -

"Lo, what's the point?"

"The point?"

"Of being all good and shit, for Charlie?"

"What do you mean?"

"She's not gonna come back to us," Tommy sighed, sniffling, "she's out there, but she'd go to Penny before any of us, and now..."

"Please don't say that," Lola's voice trembled, her heart beating in an erratic staccato in her chest.

"There's nothing worth coming back here for -"

Lola drops the receiver, curling in on herself, shaking all over as his words play over and over and over in her mind while all she can think about is the fact that yet again, she's not enough for someone she loved and felt safe with.

She's gasping for air, chest tight and tears stinging her eyes, heart beating in her ears while she's shaking like a leaf, in the full throes of a panic attack.

It takes her a long while to calm down, to ground herself in the feel of the carpet beneath her and the sound of the ocean outside, and the cars and the wind and the smell of the sea.

The first thing she does after she stands, is to get a drink, and then another, and then another, then to take the bottle into the bedroom, in to Nikki.

"Babe -?" He sees her red rimmed eyes first as she jostles him awake, and he wants to ask questions.

"I need something to get me out of my fucking mind, please, anything," she begs, lip trembling as she tries to focus on Nikki and not Tommy's words on loop in her mind.

"You sure?"

"Anything, the world is a fucking nightmare, and nothing fucking matters," and Nikki leans over to his nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out a kit Lola knew was his heroin kit. Now it didn't seem like a bad choice.

"Is this about Razz?" Nikki asks, making quick work of preparing the drug for her. Lola swallows hard, and sits on the bed.

"Neither of them fucking deserved it," and Nikki knows immediately that she's referring to both Charlotte and Razzle, and he pauses, "the world needs people like them."

The room is very quiet for the few moments where Nikki cooks the powder to a liquid, pulling it up into his syringe. He instructs Lola on how to tie off her arm, and carefully injects her after double checking that its what she wanted.

As the tie around her arm is loosened, and the drug hits, Lola laughs, but there's no humour in it, her head tipping back, bottle still clutched firmly in her other hand.

"Its a fucking joke that the world is stuck with people like me."

[noahreids]

What a Year (for a New Year) (CS FF)

Rated: T Words: Too many 13.5k Summary: Killian Jones, Boston Bruins right winger, needs a break from the questions and concerns over his career-threatening injury. He thought Storybrooke would be the perfect place to escape to. What he didn't expect was Emma Swan, her kid and a holiday season he never knew he needed.

Also on: AO3 | FFN

AN: For @clockadile , it’s been an absolute pleasure being your CSSS and getting to know you. Here’s to more canadian convos and chats going forward. And all my thanks goes to @piratesails !! She is the real holiday hero for being a beta for this monster. Thank you!

What a Year (for a New Year) 

Emma’s eyes lazily follow the thick snowflakes as they rush from the slate-colored sky, quickly blanketing everything they touch. The layers of snow grow higher by the hour, across the railings and over the small cedar bench (one she should have put away weeks ago). A shiver catches her suddenly, and she absently rubs her hands over her bare arms as she slides her gaze over to her computer screen. She frowns at the blinking black bar. Her eyes narrow, wondering if she can will the words to appear on the screen.

The bar continues to blink.

Apparently not.

She closes the cover delicately -- a deep contrast to the frustration she’s feeling -- and concedes momentary defeat.

Emma knows action. She knows how to find and help people. She knows which doors to knock on and which to knock down, but there’s also so much more she wishes she could do. She wants to reach more people. And Ariel (the Ariel Atwater of the Boston Globe), who had somehow read her small piece in the Storybooke Daily Mirror had contacted her personally, asking her to contribute a more significant feature in the Globe.

“Think of the lost girls and boys, think of how many of them are just like you. Looking for hope, looking for someone to believe in.”

Well, that was a lot to handle in one conversation.

Emma had promptly hung up the phone. Probably not her brightest moment, but when a complete stranger was throwing around words like lost girl, and savior, well, Emma had needed a moment to process. Eventually, after a few days, and Ariel herself showing up at her office in the social services department of city hall, she had been swayed to at least try.

And she had tried and made progress. Emma found herself revealing pieces of her own story that she had never told anyone, but where she was having trouble was finding a way to close it all out. Feeling her tension rise, Emma forces her eyes shut and focuses on what did go well today.

She sees the tentative smiles on Ava and Nicholas’ faces as they are introduced to their father for the first time. The man ringing his hat in his hands before dropping to his knees to hug both children.

She lets her breath out in a long slow stream and feels some of the tension leave her body. After another steady breath, she pushes away from the desk, letting the momentum roll the chair until it stops in the middle of the room. Hands on her stomach she turns the chair this way and that, trying to decide what to do next.

She spies the small black cat peering at her from the arm of the couch.

“What did I say about the couch?” Emma asks aloud. The cat blinks at her once before gracefully jumping to the floor. The feline saunters into the room, tail held high, and pauses at her feet. Emma reaches out a toe and rubs at the cat’s head. “What kind of name for a cat is Graham anyway?”

Emma can almost hear Henry groaning, impatiently explaining for the hundredth time that he got the name from the lead character of the latest comic series he’s been reading, “He’s only the coolest character, mom. Sheriff by day, wolf by night.”  

Emma eyes the cat. “You a wolf by night?”

Graham meows once and flops down to his side.

Emma shrugs at the response and spins the chair to face the kitchen. An unopened bottle of her favorite red sits on the counter. She should get to the laundry, and check her case files for tomorrow. She should do a lot of things, but it only takes her a moment to justify the wine; it has been a long week -- work, countless hours of writing, parent-teacher meeting, hockey practice –

She pushes herself up and pads lightly to the kitchen, plucking the bottle of Masi as she passes, and roots around in the messy catch-all drawer for the wine opener. She is just pulling the cork out when she hears something hit the ground. Emma spins to see the cat sitting at her desk, her notebook on the floor.

“Hey!”

Graham blinks in return, unaffected.

After a beat Emma watches as the cat proceeds to go for her computer wire, sharp little teeth bared.

“Dude! Stop, you little pest!”

At this second warning and with Emma’s threatening step into the living room, the cat finally hops down from the desk and follows Emma into the kitchen, stopping at his empty food bowl. Emma shakes her head but fills his bowl and bends to give Graham a scratch behind his ear.

“Alright, my turn now,” Emma mumbles and turns to fill her glass.

**

Emma gets as far as the kitchen counter, elbows against the chilled marble as she nibbles on crackers and cheese, sipping her wine. Through gossamer curtains, Emma catches sight of the snow that continues to fall. She worries a little about the roads, but Ashley had assured her she would get the kids home safely from the theater. She chooses instead to try and focus on the music that filters in from the living room.

Popping the last piece of cheese into her mouth, Emma, wine in hand, dances over to the radio, turning it up. She twirls as the song comes to an end and switches to a mellower beat. As she comes to a stop, she sips her wine a little slower and sighs when she spots Henry’s sweater under the coffee table. She grabs it and makes her way to his room to toss it onto his bed, but it’s as she sets foot in his room that another shiver racks her frame. The cold floor immediately permeates through her thin socks. Her eyes catch the movement of Henry’s curtains, fluttering softly from an outside breeze.

“Really, kid?” she mumbles crossing the room. She is reaching for the curtain when she feels Graham winding his way through her legs. “What do you think you’re,” her words trail off as Graham hops on the bed and suddenly disappears behind the curtain.

Emma doesn’t think anything of it until she pulls the curtains back and finds an opened window and paw prints in the snow.

“HEY!” Emma hisses at the cat. He at least has the decency to stop and look back. Although in the end, he doesn’t seem concerned with Emma’s anxious call because no sooner, he is on the move again, squeezing through the railings and onto the neighbor’s balcony.

Emma rushes out of the bedroom and to the patio doors, wrenching them open, the snow and wind immediately stopping her short, the cold biting every bare inch of her skin.

“Graham, get back here,” she pleads and takes a tentative step towards the cat. Wrong move.

With a flick of his tail, and to Emma’s immediate horror, the cat darts through the partially opened door of her neighbor’s condo. She hesitates in shocked silence.

“Graham! Here kitty…” Emma pushes out through clenched, chattering teeth, but there is no cat and no movement at the door.

She considers it a small victory that there is no scream of horror from the neighbor. She wasn’t even sure anyone lived there until last week when the mail started disappearing. She hasn’t met them yet, but silently hopes that whoever they are, they aren’t at home. She can get the cat out, and no one will be the wiser.

She studies the waist-high railing separating the two balconies and finally comes to a decision. She steps out, grumbling when the snow immediately slips into her shoes. With a huff, she dusts the cedar bench off and drags it closer to the railing. Wine in hand, she lifts herself up onto the edge of the railing and balances precariously on the top. The thought crosses her mind that she should leave her glass inside, but having gotten this far, she takes a sip of liquid courage and throws her legs over. She lands inelegantly, but thanks to the snow, quietly, nary a drop of wine spilled.

She inches towards the open door with tentative steps and offers a soft, “Hello? Anyone home?”

The silence drags on and it only gets colder. She should have grabbed a jacket.

“Just looking for my son’s asshole cat,” Emma mutters, finally stepping into the condo and onto a small mat of an almost mirror image of her unit. The color scheme is bolder than hers; a dark navy accent wall, stiff looking leather couch, rustic wood coffee table – it all feels very masculine. She slips out of her shoes and closes the door behind her. She looks around the dimly lit home and is about to approach a picture on the wall when she shakes her head, reminding herself of why she is here and how she needs to get the hell out of this stranger’s house. The last thing she needs is to call in a favor to David at the police station and explain why she was caught breaking and entering.

“Graham,” she singsongs softly and pauses. “Psss, psss, psss,” she adds a few sounds she thinks a cat would respond to and waits. Suddenly she hears the sound of nails on material and spins, rushing over to the couch.

“Duuuuude!” she cries out, and the sound stops. She rests her wine glass on the coffee table and drops to her knees, peering beneath the couch. Yellow eyes stare back. The cat is on his back, nails hooked in the material of the underside of the couch. “Look, there’s no damage. No one looks under here. Can you do me a solid and come out?”

The cat rolls onto his stomach and shimmies back. Emma drops her forehead to the floor and groans. And of course, this is when she hears the sound of a key in the front door. No time to come up with a plan, she rushes to sit up, rapping her shoulder on the coffee table. Biting her lip against the jarring pain, she just manages to catch her wine glass before it topples over.

Fuuuuuuck.

And this is how her new neighbor finds her: kneeling beside his couch, glass of wine clutched in a death grip, messy blond hair falling over her face. She blows a stray lock away and furtively glances towards the doorway, eyes downcast. Emma spots the snow-covered boots of a man hovering at the threshold. Her eyes trail up jean-clad legs, to a gray wool peacoat, snow melting across the front.

Well Emma, chin up. You’ve been in worse situations.

She feels the adrenaline kicking in, and before she can succumb to the nerves, she forces her eyes up and sucks in a breath. He just had to be beautiful – although her thoughts hesitate as she takes in the cool blue eyes that are fast on hers – beautiful but a little rough. Her eyes bounce from the cut across his cheek to the dark scruff lining his jaw that looks just a bit unkempt. She watches that jaw clench, and it causes a clenching of another kind, deep in her belly. She inwardly curses her body’s reaction. It’s clearly been too long. She swallows hard, trying to calm her frantically beating heart.

Unsure of what to say she absently brings her wine glass to her lips. His eyebrow pops up, and this small response transforms his features into something a little more approachable and, Emma thinks, a little more familiar. She shrugs, taking a sip of her wine and gets to her feet.

The stranger finally closes the door behind him and tosses his keys in a bowl but doesn’t come any closer.

“You certainly are the boldest puck bunny I’ve encountered,” he finally addresses her in a cold tone. The English accent catches her off-guard, as do his eyes that give her a quick once-over. Emma is suddenly aware of her threadbare t-shirt and leggings. She glances back to him when the words he’s just used rattles around in her brain.

“Puck bunny?” she asks, wondering if it’s an English turn of phrase she isn’t aware of.

He either doesn’t hear her or chooses to ignore the question seeing as he is faced with the more pressing matter of a stranger in his living room.

“Now lass, as beautiful as you are, nothing will be happening here. I need you to kindly explain how you broke into my home before I decide if I’m calling the police,” her neighbor says, pulling his phone from his pocket.

Emma scrunches her nose at his first statement.

Who is this guy and what does he think she’s here for?

However, her thoughts are quickly dismissed as the word police catches up with her. She holds up her hands, before pointing at him with her wine glass.

“Hey, whoa. What are you going on about? No need for the police, I’m just here about my cat,” she protests, and before she can explain further, she is brought up short by his half laugh.

“Cat? Are you telling me you are here about your puss--”

“EXCUSE ME.” She cuts him off, her eyes wide in horror.

He finally cracks a smile and takes a few steps into the room, looking a little more relaxed.

“I’m your neighbor,” she begins but he returns the favor, cutting her off.

“Ruby is my neighbor, you are not Ruby,” he says tongue darting out to wet his lips, eyes trailing over her, smirk in place.

Emma closes her eyes and counts to five.

“You asked me to explain, do you want to hear it or not?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and it’s then she sees his left hand is wrapped in gauze, three fingers set in a cast. Sensing her eyes on his injury, he drops his hand to his side and gives her a tight nod.

“My name is Emma. Ruby is a good friend of mine; she sublet the condo to me months ago. She told me nothing of this,” Emma waves in his general direction and ignores his popped eyebrow, choosing to continue. “My cat ran in through your open back door – maybe you should close it if you don’t want unwanted guests,” Emma adds pointedly. “You trying to heat up all of Storybrooke?”

“Airing out the place. It’s been closed up a while,” he mumbles and then adds, “I didn’t expect any guests, and so far, I only see the two-legged variety.”

Emma sighs.

“Graham is under the couch. Trust me, I came for the cat, not to throw myself at the likes of you,” Emma explains and partially wishes she’d left the last part out, but she has to admit she likes the way his eyes widen, a little put out.

“With your glass of cabernet?” he adds.

“It’s a red blend,” she mutters, and his eyebrow pops up again. She tilts her head, studying him; there was something familiar about the look. Her eyes flit around the room and land on a framed photograph: elated faces, bodies dressed in thick equipment, hoisting a trophy. “Killian Jones!” she says suddenly, wine glass gesturing to him. “You play for the Bruins.”

She thought he would be pleased that she figured it out. Instead, he frowns and then suddenly the pieces connect.

“Shit. You play for the Bruins. You own my place. Look, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kick us out before Christmas. Or at all really. It’s just a misunderstanding.”

Killian looks decidedly confused.

“Kick you out? What? Who?”

Emma points to herself, “Emma Swan.”

“Emma Swan,” he repeats, taking a few steps further into the room, only the coffee table separating them now. He taps the table leg in thought before looking up at her from under dark lashes. Emma holds her breath.

“At least I know what name to give the police.”

Emma’s eyes widen, grip tensing on the now empty wine glass.

“You... I told you… The police. The cat.”

He is clearly better than her at keeping his expression neutral and lets her prattle on.

“Again, a cat which I have yet to see,” he reminds her. She frowns, first at the couch where Graham is hiding and then at her empty glass. He gestures towards her glass with his chin.

“Shall I fetch you more wine? I’m sure I have a red blend on hand” He makes sure to stress her earlier correction, a teasing tone infiltrating his accented words.

She narrows her eyes at him. He might be better at hiding his thoughts, but his eyes are dancing. She won’t bite.

“No thank you, I already have a bottle open next door,” Emma responds lightly. “Now if you’ll just give me a moment.” Emma jerks her head towards the couch, from where Graham has yet to emerge.

“By all means,” Killian nods his consent and settles in a chair across from her, ankle over knee. Emma allows herself one last glance at the rousing sight he poses and forces herself back on her hands and knees, empty glass on the table, trying not to feel utterly humiliated.

Graham is exactly where she left him, eyes barely open, paws curled underneath him. If she wasn’t so mad, she might even call him cute.

“Psst, Graham! Come here!” Emma tries again, trying to keep her voice low but the deep chuckle from across the room suggests she was anything but.

“Perhaps if you were politer, love.”

Emma does not reward his comment with a glance, but after biting off a silent oath, she closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. When she opens them again, she finds Graham staring back.

“Hey Graham, please come out,” she says softly and scratches the floor lightly with her nails. To her immense surprise, the cat slinks out into the open space. She pops up to her knees with a shout of success. The cat rubs up against her this way and that, before taking a seat beside her. She can’t help but grin widely at Killian.

“See!” She points to the cat and turns to scratch under his chin, the purring rolling out of him immediately. She looks up to find Killian crossing the room, a smile on his face mirroring her own. Her stomach flips, and she only hesitates a moment at his outstretched hand.

He helps her up and doesn’t makes a move to let go. She watches his Adam’s apple bob and gains some confidence at his sudden nerves.

“Can you call off the police now?” she asks, squeezing his hand before bending down to grab the cat.

“I suppose I shan’t be pressing charges today. As peculiar as this situation is, I do believe you are telling the truth.” His blue eyes flit across her face.

He’s even more beautiful up close but also, tired. There might be a cut across his cheek from a hockey injury, but the bruising under his eyes comes from sleepless nights and bone-weary exhaustion. She tries to remember what happened to him but can’t recall.

“Thank you,” she whispers, taking a few steps back but pauses, “But, you know, if your door had been closed,” she trails off.

“Wait, this is my fault? Doesn’t your door have to be open too? Shouldn’t we equally shoulder the blame?”

“I have a kid.”

“You have a kid?” confusion coloring his question.

“Yeah, you have a problem with that? He’s a good kid.”

“I didn’t mean-- it’s not,” he trails off, apparently unsure what they are arguing about now. He shakes his head and seems to find his footing again as a smile spreads across his face.

It throws her off.

“I’m sure if he’s anything like his mother, he’s a great kid.”

Emma’s eyes narrow and he holds up his hand in a placating manner but an incredulous laugh bubbles out of him anyway.

Emma feels her smile tugging at her lips. “A good kid who leaves his window open in December. Sorry,” Emma finally mumbles.

“You know, it’s quite alright, love. It’s actually brought some much-needed levity to my day, to be honest.”

Before Emma can ask what he means, they both hear Henry call out for her.

“Mom! Where are you?”

Graham struggles from her arms, and she lets him go. He darts outside, quickly slipping through the rails, and without a glance back, dashes into his actual home.

“I have to go,” she nods towards the door. Killian nods but follows her into the cold.

Emma eyes the railing and jumps when she feels him close behind, his voice a whisper in her ear. She freezes.

“Would you like a boost?”

She turns and has to look up, their breath clouds and mingles as Emma hesitates.

“Are you sure, with your hand?”

His smile drops and Emma immediately regrets her question, albeit a valid one.

“I have a useless hand, but I’m not a complete invalid.”

“I didn’t mean --”

Killian drops his head and takes a deep breath.

“I know you didn’t, I’m sorry, I’m,” he pauses, and Emma shivers as she waits. “I’m sorry, you’re freezing. Let me help; I assure you it’s fine.”

And before she knows what’s happening, his right hand and left palm are on her waist, and he’s helped her up onto the railing.

“Sorry again, and for the, um, breaking and entering. It won’t happen again,” she manages to say and makes to turn but the fingers on his right-hand squeeze, holding her in place.

“And again, after perhaps a rocky start, this was, nice. No need for apologies,” he admits and finally takes a step away.

Emma manages to turn herself and finds her footing on the bench.

“Good night, Killian,” she whispers, giving him a last look before stepping into her place.

She slides the door closed and leans back against it, suddenly warm all over.

“You look weird, why do you look weird?”

Emma jumps at her kid’s voice, suddenly right in front of her. He has Graham purring in his arms. Henry is staring at her like she’s crazy. Maybe she is. She can still feel the pressure of his hand on her hip.

“Maybe it’s because I had to brave the cold, because someone left their bedroom window open. In December I might add, and that someone’s cat escaped.”

Henry looks sheepish.

“Sorry.”

“Mmm.”

Henry wraps her in a tight hug, Graham stuck in the middle and a little less than thrilled about the situation.

“I’ll make you a hot cocoa?” Henry offers.

How is she supposed to be mad now?

She concedes. “That would be great, kid.”

**

“If you get your work done before supper, you can find something for us to watch on Netflix tonight,” Emma says around the grocery bag, toeing off her boots and nudging the front door closed with her hip. She looks around the bag to see Henry kicking his boots into the closet.

“Can I put the lights we got up in my room first?”

Emma hesitates.

“Please, it’s already December second and we don’t have anything decorated yet.”

“Not December second!” Emma teases and she can almost feel Henry roll his eyes.

“Mom.”

“Sure, you can put the lights up, just help me with these groceries first.”

They are on their way to the kitchen when a voice startles them both.

“Greetings, Swan and smaller Swan.”

Henry handles it well, socked feet sliding to a stop across the wood floor, eyes wide. Emma on the other hand handles it with less grace.

She chokes on her scream, only managing to catch it half way when she recognizes the voice. Although, there is no catching her grocery bag as it topples out of her grasp, spilling half its contents over the hardwood. Thankfully the plastic bags stay hooked over her fingers. She closes her eyes and breathes in through her nose but her voice still raises in pitch.

“Really? You broke into my house? Was that necessary?” she asks, grateful the shakes wracking her body don’t sound in her voice. She glances over at Henry to make sure he’s okay, but his look of surprise has already morphed into one of glee at whatever is happening.

What was happening? Since when did Emma have professional hockey players breaking into her home?

“Shh, you’ll wake the beast,” a whispered response filters across the room.

Emma slowly turns towards the living room and spies Killian Jones, stretched out on her couch, one arm behind his head, a sleeping Graham sprawled across his chest. In all the ways she had pictured their second encounter -- and okay, over the last few days maybe she had pictures a few, two, four tops — this had not been one of them.

“Besides, I no more broke into here than you did into mine,” he states, a sleepy lopsided grin on his face. Killian deposits the cat on the floor and lifts up from the couch. The hair at the back of his head is in complete disarray, static pulling it straight out, and she wonders how long he’s actually been there. She can’t help but note he looks a little less tired.

“Mom! You broke into someone’s house? So cool!” Henry exclaims, eyes bouncing between the two before landing back on Killian. “Whoa, wait. You’re Killian Jones.” Henry’s voice is tinted with awe.

And this is what makes Killian look bashful. Not being caught breaking in or this whole odd situation, but her eleven year old kid looking at him like he is some kind of star, which, really, he should be used to. He scratches behind his ear, the tip of which pinks at the statement. Emma tilts her head to study him.

“Pleased to meet you,” he trails off looking from Henry and to Emma. She somehow gets the impression he is asking for permission. Something she appreciates.

Henry looks like he hasn’t heard the question, still clearly enthralled by being in the presence of one of his idols.

“This is Henry, and Henry, it’s actually not cool to break into someone’s house. I was grabbing your cat? Remember? The one you let escape.” Emma gives her son a pointed look before heading towards the kitchen, stepping over the fallen groceries. “You’re picking that up,” she adds over her shoulder, eyes on Killian.

“I’m an injured man,” Killian replies but with no real heat as he is already heading towards the box of cereal and other assortment of canned goods strewn across the floor.

Henry dumps his own bags in the kitchen before hurrying over to help Killian.

“She totally doesn’t care. I had a broken arm once and I still had to take out the garbage,” Henry explains, eager to have something in common, piling his arms with canned tomatoes and sauce.

“I don’t remember your legs also being broken, were they?” Emma asks, slowly pulling items out of the bags, watching the odd scene before her. Killian straightens first and gives her a warm look that has color rising to her cheeks. She quickly looks away.

“Well, it is good form to help your mum whenever you can Henry, so I’m sure it was very much appreciated. Just like I appreciate the help you are lending me now.”

She is not sure if it’s the casual comment or the way her kid’s chest puffs out at the praise, but it causes her breath to hitch and she has to rest her hands on the counter to keep them from trembling. This isn’t how she operates with men, especially not around Henry. And what is she even thinking is going on anyway? She is being ridiculous, tired –

“Love?” his voice is closer, and she jumps when a warm hand closes over hers. She pulls her hand away and busies herself with the rest of the groceries. She can feel him watching her, just like she can feel her son rooting around the bags on the counter.

“I’m going to put these up now, okay?” Henry says more than asks, finding the Christmas lights, already heading towards his room, leaving Emma and Killian alone. She longs for Henry’s stress-free attitude, not the goosebumps that are spreading across her skin or the silence that is stretching out in the kitchen.

Maybe she should put some music on. Maybe she should ask him a question. What is he doing in Storybrooke? What happened to his hand? Why did he look so tired the other day? She turns with determination.

“So, are you going to tell me why you broke into my place or do you do that with all the girls?”

Oh God, where did that come from?

Her own words and the way his eyes shoot to hers, cause her to take a few steps back but he reaches out to stop her from hitting the counter. His hand lingers on her elbow, his thumb running back and forth. She squeezes the bag of marshmallows tightly in her fist as she tilts her head up.  

She watches him watch her. His eyes blue and curious. She hopes he doesn’t feel the shiver as his fingers leave her elbow and trail down her arm.

“Careful love, wouldn’t want to ruin these marshmallows,” he whispers, taking the bag from her grasp and tossing it onto the counter behind her. He also takes a deep breath, preparing himself for an explanation.

“No, this is definitely a first for me and I didn’t quite break in, your patio door was unlocked,” he explains, but it’s the how, not the why. The question must still be on her face because his mouth ticks up in a flirty smirk. “You forgot your empty glass of red blend. I was simply taking it upon myself to return it to you, lest you felt the need to imbibe further.” He nods towards her desk, where a new bottle of wine sits along with her glass but it appears he isn’t done. His teasing smile falls away, replaced with something gentler. “Or perhaps I just wanted to see you again.”

“You could probably just use the front door next time,” Emma whispers before she can think of the implications.

“Next time?” he questions and she’s confused all over again. How is she supposed to think with her fried nerves and the blues eyes, and his chest brushing hers every time she tries to take a breath, not to mention her kid just down the hall, and what does she expect from a professional hockey player anyway? She turns away, needing to get some space. She grabs the marshmallows, shoving them in the pantry, and grabs a few other items, all but jamming them into the fridge.

“Yeah, sure. Next time or not or, whatever,” she trips over her words, shrugging, grateful for the cold air of the fridge against her warming cheeks. She counts to three and closes the door, turning back.

Killian has given her some space, moving back to lean against the opposite counter, legs crossed at the ankles.

“I’d like that.”

Oh.

“Oh, okay. Great.”

She’s making additional plans with a man she’s just met. A professional hockey player. An injured one that doesn’t seem to be with his team at the moment. Is that normal? Why Storybrooke? What the hell is she doing? Emma falls back against the fridge, unsure of what to say next, in case she blurts all the things out.

“I think you put your cereal in the fridge, love,” Killian offers, a new teasing smile stretching across his face, oblivious to all the questions she is holding back.

Emma scoffs, but doesn’t open the fridge, realizing she has no idea what she put in there.

“I did not,” she responds instead. He pushes off the counter and saunters towards her.

“Why don’t we have a look then,” he asks, sliding in close, close enough to feel the heat of him, close enough to--

“I’M STARVING. When are we eating?”

The sudden exclamation from Henry has them jumping apart, Killian back to his spot against the counter, and Emma plastered against the fridge. She looks around the kitchen and grabs the towel from the counter and wrings it tightly between her hands.

Henry stops between.

“You look weird again,” he states, watching her.

“What? I do not.”

He nudges her out of the way and opens the fridge.

“Yeah you do, you look exactly like the other day when you rescued Graham. All pink and weird.”

Killian does his best to cover his laugh with a cough, eyes dancing as he watches her.

Emma opens and closes her mouth, unable to find her words.

“Doesn’t she, Killian?” Henry asks without looking back, as if this is a normal thing, throwing a question to Killian.

“I think she looks lovely.”

Emma can’t look at either of them.

“Oookay. Hey Mom, why did you put the cereal in the fridge?”

This time Killian can’t hide his laughter but thankfully he leaves the kitchen, wandering over to where he left the bottle of wine. Emma takes a few deep breaths and finally steels herself.

“I read about it on Facebook this morning, something about keeping it fresher.”

She’s proud of that one and absolutely refuses to acknowledge the chuckles coming from the living room.

“Whatever you say,” Henry mumbles closing the fridge again. “Hey Killian, are staying for supper? Mom’s making her famous tortilla soup.”

Emma looks to the ceiling. She loves her kid, but sometimes his heart moves faster than she can keep up with. Speaking of Henry’s heart and his eagerness to take in strays, Graham winds his way around her legs and sits beside her.

He gives a small meow as if to say, Well?

She looks up to find Killian watching her.

“You don’t--”

What the hell.

“Well it is famous, at least between these four walls. Would you like to stay?” she finally asks and knows she’s made the right choice when she sees his shoulders relax and a true smile spread across his face.

“It would be an honor,” he answers and picks up the wine, holding it up in question. Emma gives him a small nod.

“Cool,” Henry seems to reply for the both of them, disappearing once again down the hall.

Cool, indeed.

**  

She does get some answers to her questions, but not at first. Oh, he talks. He regales Henry with stories about the Bruins, about other star players in the league and cities he’s visited. Not much about himself but Henry doesn’t seem to mind, thoroughly distracted with all the other information. And Killian listens with rapt attention when Henry describes his first goal, waving away any comments about how long it took him to get it or how he isn’t as good as the other boys on the team.

“Do you like playing? Do you practice hard? Are you having fun?”

Henry had nodded with wide eyes.

“Everything else will come. I was never the best or the fastest or picked first but I loved the game and I worked hard every day. It’s about what’s in here,” Killian paused and tapped his heart.

“For real?” Henry had asked, voice full of hope.

“Absolutely, lad.”

So, she hadn’t gotten answers right away but she’d seen her kid leave the table with a dopey grin on his face and that’s more than she could have asked for.

“Thanks for that,” she says after the dishes are dropped in the sink and the lights are dimmed. Henry had excused himself to work on Christmas cards and they were left alone.

She’d topped off his glass of wine and feeling a little warm and relaxed herself, nudged him with her hip before making her way to the living room. It’s quiet and comfortable on her couch, and she pulls her legs up while she waits to see what Killian decides to do.

He takes a sip of his wine before walking to the living room. He stops to look at the pictures lining the wall.

“Nonsense, Swan. It was my pleasure,” he says quietly, eyes still on the pictures. “Is there a,” he starts and stops, turning around. She waits, pretty confident she knows where he’s going.

He leaves the pictures behind and surprises her by settling in the middle of the couch, thigh brushing her knees. He kicks his legs onto the table and finally looks over.

“Is there a Mr. Swan?” but then just as quickly follows with, “Nevermind, that’s none of my business.”

His eyes are on his wine, swirling it around the glass.

“No, it’s always just been Henry and I. His father was never quite ready for any kind of responsibility,” Emma answers quietly. “I do my best.”

“You’re a marvel, Swan,” he declares quite passionately. Emma snorts.

“Just a few days ago you were going to call the police on me. I’m a work in progress.”

He shakes his head but it’s a with a sad smile.

“If you are a work in progress, I must be an utter disaster.”

He takes a deep sip from his glass, clearly preparing to say more, so instead of protesting his comments or asking what he means, she waits. Later, she would guess it’s the wine that loosens his tongue or perhaps just the need to actually talk to someone that has him opening up.

“Did you see how this happened?” he asks, holding up his injured hand. For the first time, she takes a long look at it. She sees the stitches lining the three fingers that are braced together, the skin still pink and slightly swollen. He seems to stare at it in disgust.

“There’s so much metal in my hand now, I’m not sure a hook wouldn’t be better,” he mutters before finally looking up.

Emma gives him a patient smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see what happened. I don’t really follow much of the sports news.”

He uses his hands to frame a makeshift headline, “Killian Jones, Boston Bruins right wing has sustained a gruesome injury to his hand for the second time in less than twelve months.”

“But it will heal? You’ll play again?” Emma asks when Killian pauses. He shrugs, leans his head back against the couch and closes his eyes.

“They say eight to twelve weeks but I’m not even supposed to go near a gym right now, I need to let my body recover from the trauma of surgery and all that. I was already struggling this season, trying too hard to get back to my past form. I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back. It’s one of the reasons I had to get out of Boston. Away from the fans, the sports talk radio, the well-meaning family and friends. I tried to tune it out but it’s near impossible. I heard the whispers, that the team would be better off without my salary on the books. I wasn’t the player I used to be after the first injury, now with this second one, it’s a lost cause.”

She hesitates but finally reaches out to squeeze his arm and waits for his eyes to be on hers.

“You don’t believe that,” she states firmly. He looks at his hand. “No, look at me. You don’t believe that or you wouldn’t be so frustrated. Right?” she asks and she taps over his heart, right where he’d showed Henry. His good hand closes over hers and he finally offers her a small smile.

“Perhaps not.”  

“Good.”

As her fingers flex over the soft material of his sweater, she wonders if he knows her heart is pounding just as hard as his is below her fingers.

**

“Don’t rush it, Emma. I love what you have so far. I think we could easily do a few follow up pieces as well. Especially if you are right about the adoption house that accepted bribes to lose the paperwork. We’ll make a journalist out of you yet,” Ariel, voice full enthusiasm, calms Emma’s somewhat frazzled nerves.

She had hit send on her almost completed piece a few hours earlier and had been pacing the living room, between bouts of decorating, ever since. She lets her fingers trail over Henry’s stocking as she takes in Ariel’s words.

“Ok, that’s, that’s great Ariel. Thank you.”

The front door opens and Henry tumbles in, all excitement and awkward limbs. His backpack smashes into the wall in his haste to get it off and Emma cringes at the sound.

“Mom, mom. MOM! Oh, you’re there,” Henry grins as he pushes his hat out of his eyes. Emma points to the phone at her ear but apparently that’s not enough to stop him. “Mom, can we go to Killian’s for dinner? Like now? Can we?”

She can hear Ariel laugh on the other end of the line.

“Henry, breathe. We can’t just show up,” Emma states calmly.

“But Killian said,” Henry starts and the man in question is suddenly behind him, whispering something in her kid’s ear, eyes bright on Emma’s. Her heart stutters in her chest.

“Are you seeing someone Emma? Is he handsome?” Ariel teases across the line. “Killian, you know that’s the name of our missing star Bruin. You aren’t dating a hockey player are you Emma?”

Emma’s heart nearly stops.

“What? No, no. Not at all.”

Ariel laughs again.

“I know. I’m just teasing. I’ll let you be with your family. Let’s chat next week. Bye, Emma.”

The line is dead before Emma can catch up. She drops her arm to her side and finally focuses on the two men in front of her.

“Everything alright, love?” Killian asks, dropping his injured hand on Henry’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. Just my editor.”

Killian’s eyebrows shoot up. They hadn’t gotten that far in their conversation the other night.

“My mom’s going to be famous,” Henry states proudly.

“Hardly, Henry,” Emma tucks her phone away and walks towards them. “I’m just writing a small piece on adoption and some of the difficulties people, kids, myself, go through,” she finishes quietly.

“For the Globe?” he asks and there’s something he’s hiding behind the simple question. Emma has a strong feeling it has to do with journalists and getting away from them.

“Yeah, I’m still in shock, I’ve never done anything like this before.”

He seems to process the information before shaking it off and the smile from before returns. Before he can respond, Henry speaks up.

“So, can we mom?”

Emma is lost, Killian thankfully clears things up.

“I saw your boy in the hall, I hope you don’t mind that I mentioned it to him first. I wanted to thank you for the lovely dinner the other night by having you over. I’m not much of a cook, so I picked up Granny’s. I was assured I have your favorites.”

He pulls up his other hand revealing a large brown take out bag.

Emma waits but it’s mostly to bug Henry who is almost vibrating with excitement.

“Put your bag in your room and feed your cat, then we can go over.”

Henry lets out a whoop and nearly stumbles out of his boots in his haste. She waits until he’s down the hall before speaking.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers.

“I wanted to, love.”

She studies him, trying to remember the last time someone wanted to treat her and Henry, someone that wasn’t her brother and sister-in-law.

“Did you get onion rings? Mom loves onion rings. She’ll love you forever,” Henry yells from the kitchen.

“Of course, lad,” he calls back and then softer, “forever?”

Emma hiccups a laugh, better to laugh than to freak out.

“Let’s start with tonight.”

“I can do that.”

**

“Sorry my place isn’t as comfortable as yours. I didn’t really do the decorating, never really expected to spend much time here.”

“This is very comfortable,” Emma assures him. He gives her a skeptical look. They are spread out on the floor after originally trying out the couch and finding it stiff and uncomfortable. Killian had disappeared into what she assumes is his bedroom and come back, arms piled with blankets. She’s wrapped in one now. And she is trying very hard not to think about how it very much feels like he’s wrapped around her; the blanket must be from his bed.

She’s a little overwhelmed.

But she’s also very much charmed.

She leans back against the couch, and glances at Henry, spread out on his stomach, not minding the development in the least, finishing the last of his fries. She takes a deep breath.

Killian stretches out his legs and nudges Henry’s foot with his.

“Want to find us something to watch?”

“Sure.”

He takes the remote from Killian’s outstretched hand, and proceeds to flick through the channels.

“Oh!” Emma’s surprised exclamation receives a groan from Henry but he stops his channel surfing.

“What am I missing?” Killian asks glancing between the two.

“Mom loves these Christmas movies. It’s always about two dumb people who don’t know they are in looooove,” Henry gags on the last word but tosses the remote aside, settling in to watch.

“Kid, we don’t have to watch this.”

“It’s okay. You saw Star Wars with me,” Henry reasons simply and then snickers at a character falling in the snow. Emma stares at her son with a swell of emotion.

“He’s a good kid,” Killian whispers, sliding closer to her on the floor. She turns her head and is brought up short by his proximity. She can’t help but let her eyes drift across his features; the cut on his cheek only a thin pink line now, the shadows under his eyes almost gone, the quirk to his lips. She looks up and finds him watching her just as patiently as ever. That is until his own eyes dip and stall for a moment on her lips. She presses her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from doing anything ridiculous like dropping her eyes to his lips. Except it might be worse, because she has a front row to his dark lashes that almost brush the tops of his cheeks, as she presses her teeth harder, he makes a small sound from the back of his throat that has her heart working overtime.

He seems to surprise himself with it, and looks up. He leans over and Emma holds her breath. He tugs the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders, and just ghosts his thumb over her lips, freeing it from her teeth.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his hand finding hers on the floor, warming her chilled fingers.

“I think I should be the one thanking you.”

But he shakes his head, squeezing her hand, turning towards the TV. The two main characters are decorating a perfectly manicured tree.

“Hey, Killian?”

He doesn’t let go of her hand and she doesn’t move.

“Yes, master Swan?”

Henry snickers.  

“Are you going to put up a tree?”

“Mmm, I don’t think so. I don’t really have any decorations here.”

There’s a pause as they watch the woman on the screen slip from a stepladder and into a man’s arms.

“That’s okay. You can share ours. We are going to get our tree tomorrow, right, mom?”

“Right.”

Killian’s hand tightens on hers.

“See, it’s for me to thank you, love.”

**

He shares their tree. He shows up with antlers on his head and ornaments for each of them. It makes it easier for Emma to pull out the small Captain Hook ornament she found for him. Thankfully he gets the joke, and hangs it with a smile. But it also makes it harder not to reach out and touch him like she wants to.

A few days later he suggests they come over to bake cookies and when Emma leaves the room for five minutes she comes back to not the twelve perfectly round balls they had rolled but one nearly life sized gingerbread man.

“Really, guys?”

The twin grins she receives dissolves any of her exasperation.

He helps Henry with his math homework. They watch terrible Christmas movies.

He somehow, in a few short weeks, slips into their everyday lives.

They don’t talk about what’s happening. Not to each other, not to others. Emma doesn’t tell Mary Margaret when she calls to confirm New Year’s plans and even Henry seems to want to keep it between the three of them. Their own special thing.

And since that first supper at her place, they don’t talk about hockey. That is, until Henry brings it up.

“When are you going to play again?”

Killian turns from the patio doors where he’d been watching the snow fall. He doesn’t look like he knows how to answer, doesn’t look like he knows the answer himself.

“I’m not exactly sure, Henry.”

He looks down at his hand and Emma’s heart aches for him.

“But don’t you miss skating?”

“Henry, give him a break,” Emma steps in, ruffling Henry’s hair.

“No, it’s alright. Of course, I miss skating.”

“We should go,” Henry suggests like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Henry.”

“Sorry.”

Emma huffs and walks over to Killian, touching his arm as he looks outside.

“Sorry. He doesn’t quite understand,” she whispers but hears his tut of disagreement.

He puts his arm around her and pulls her in close. She lets herself melt into him a little.

“It’s quite alright. The lad isn’t wrong. I do miss it, I just don’t know,” his whispered words trail off and she can imagine all the different ways to end that sentence.

He doesn’t know if he’s ready.

He doesn’t know when he will be.

Doesn’t know if he needs to go back to Boston to make that happen. He probably needs to go back to Boston.

Emma’s chest tightens at that thought, suddenly the idea of not having him nearby every day difficult to imagine. She holds onto him a little tighter. But as she takes in his profile, feels his strength beneath the cotton of his Henley, she knows she’s being selfish and so she wonders if there is anything she can do to help. Wonders if Henry actually has the right idea.

So, what does she do? She kidnaps him.

**

“Get in the car.”

“Come again, Swan?”

“I need you to get in my car.”

“And what pray tell are we doing?”

“Killian.”

“Emma”

“Killian, come on!” They both hear Henry call out.

“And put this on.” Emma shoves a hat into his chest. He looks at it, then at her.

“I’m still not sure what exactly we are doing or why you aren’t telling me.”

So maybe she plays dirty. She rises up to the tips of her toes and brings her lips to his ear.

“Please.”

As she pulls back, her lips press a feather light kiss to his cheek. His eyes look at her, unfocused, curious, and finally hungry.

She doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else, instead she opens the car door and all but shoves him in. The quicker she gets him in the car, the less time she has to back out of what very well may be a terrible plan.

**

“What are we doing here, Swan?”

Henry, unable to keep it in anymore, finally bursts from the backseat.

“We’re going skating!” He’s unbuckled and out the door before Killian can clearly fully process what is going on. They both watch Henry, backpack in hand hurry down the snowy path to a bench near a clearing.

Emma can’t stand the silence and she can’t actually get her head to turn to look at him so she fills the silence with as many words and explanations as she can.

“So, I don’t know if this is a terrible idea or not. It may be the worst. I may be the worst.”

“You are most definitely not the worst.”

She chooses to ignore him and forges on.

“But, I thought if you missed skating and I don’t know maybe you weren’t ready to head back to Boston, I mean I’m not ready for you to head to Boston either. But yeah, maybe this would be okay. I know for a fact we’ll be alone. This is a friend’s property, they make this for Henry every year, so no spectators, nothing to worry about. We can stay for five minutes or five hours, whatever you want really. I hope you aren’t too upset. It was my idea, so if you are mad, get mad at me. Henry was just excited to be involved in a covert mission. He called it Operation Icing.”

She closes her eyes and sucks in a deep breath. She thinks she might get sick.

“Look at me, Swan.”

She pops one eye open and slowly turns.

He might be smiling.

“Now the other one, love.”

She opens both eyes and feels a small weight lift from her chest. He’s smiling, a real genuine Killian Jones smile. A smile she’s come to really, really enjoy.

“Are you mad?”

“Not mad.”

“Okay, that’s um, good. Great really.”

They look back outside. Henry already has his skates on and is taking his first turn on the ice.

“Are you getting on the ice too?” Killian asks, slowly pulling off his seatbelt.

“Oh, I’ll get on. Whether or not I stay on my feet is another question altogether.”

“I won’t let you fall.”

She turns to him with wide eyes.

“And Emma, you were right, I’m not ready to head back to Boston either but it has nothing to do with the Bruins or my hand or anything like that.”

Before she can respond, he’s out of the car, jogging down the path, hollering something to Henry about shifting his weight to his front leg.

She gathers herself, gathers the bag with the skates, and joins him by the outdoor rink.

**

He doesn’t let her fall.

**

The first day they met, the circles under his eyes were dark and his whole spirit looked defeated; He’d steadily looked better every day since then. Rested, easier smiles, less irritated looks towards his injured hand.

Which is why when her phone rings and all she hears is her name rasped out in pain, everything in her seizes up. She quickly looks to Henry who is thoroughly invested in his video game before slipping into the kitchen.

“Killian, what’s happened? Are you okay?”

She can hear his ragged breathing, she can almost feel his panic.

“Killian? Where are you?”

“I’m at home. I’m, could you come over? Is Henry alright alone for a moment?”

“Of course, of course. I’ll be right over.”

The phone goes dead and she very deliberately tucks it in her front pocket. She does everything cautiously because if she doesn’t, she might panic as well, having no idea what is going on.

“Hey kid, you okay if I pop over to Killian’s for a second? He just needs my help with something and I’ll be right back?”

He barely takes his eyes off the screen, “Yup.”

She lets herself into Killian’s and finds it dark. She follows the stream of light down the hall and sees it coming from the bathroom.

“Killian?” she asks hesitantly, rapping on the door. It opens of its own accord, revealing Killian pressed against the wall, head back, breath coming in quick pants, a pallor to his skin.

She takes a step in and finally sees his injured hand wrapped in towel, a few spots of blood blooming across the white fabric.

“What happened?”

When he doesn’t answer she touches his chest, places her hand over his heart. She feels it racing. At her touch, he finally speaks, eyes still clenched shut.

“I’m not sure. I was trying to do something in the kitchen and I moved too quickly. I hit my hand, there was blood. I, I don’t know. It’s not the blood. I,” his words come between quick gulps of air. “Emma, if I screwed up my hand again. If I have to have another surgery, if I never plays again--”

His breath comes quicker and she can see what’s happening. She can see him working himself up and she hasn’t looked at his hand yet but if she had to guess, it’s probably fine. What is happening, is a panic attack.

“Killian. Killian, look at me.”

Her hands cup his face, thumbs running gently over his cheeks. He’s clammy and cool.

“Killian,” she urges again and his eyes finally flutter open. She gives him a gentle smile.

“Try taking a deep breath.” She waits until he does, and then nods as he takes a few more. “That’s it.”

He’s still shaking, so she drops the lid on the toilet and urges him to sit, never really letting go. Once he’s settled, she takes his good hand and places it on her hip.

“Squeeze. Feel something real and solid and concentrate on that. Keep breathing.”

He squeezes her once, twice, three times before dropping his head to her stomach. The pressure doesn’t let up on her hip but as she runs her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck, his breathing finally begins to calm.

“You’re okay,” she whispers any time his breath shudders out and once even that stops, she finally decides to look at his hand.

“I mean, I’m no doctor but I’ll let you know if it’s still there.”

She feels even better when his low laugh vibrates against her stomach.

She pulls the cloth away. She can see where he must have knocked his hand hard enough to draw blood but the small wound is already clotting, no swelling, nothing looks out of place. She turns on the hot water and dabs the area with the cloth, cleaning it up.

“I think we can put a Band-Aid on it and I mean, you should probably call your doctor eventually but I think you’re going to be okay.”

She presses a kiss to the back of his hand, away from the injury and finds his eyes watching her as she pulls away. With the crisis over, she feels her own adrenaline kick in and has to will her body not to shake with the force of it.

“How does it feel now?”

He doesn’t seem to hear her question, choosing instead to look at her in wonder. It does nothing to help the shaking she is trying to keep under control.

She runs the back of her hand across his forehead, happy he doesn’t feel so cold.

“Killian?”

That seems to shake him out of his reverie. He squeezes her hip again.

“Better. Much better. I think I just, panicked,” he finally admits.

“Good. I’m glad.”

She runs her hand through his hair, over his ear, something about touching him, seeing his eyes flutter closed, grounds her.

Until a thought crosses her mind.

“This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have forced you out skating yesterday.”

“You didn’t force me, Swan.”

“I told you to get in the car and didn’t tell you where we were going.”

“You asked me politely to get in the car,” he clarifies.

“Demanded.”

“Strongly suggested.”

Emma huffs. He isn’t making it easy to assume the responsibility, but as she looks at him again, she is happy to see the color returning to his cheeks, his blue eyes clear and sure.

“I also broke into your apartment and found your skates.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment.

“Is it really breaking and entering if I leave the door unlocked for you?”

“I even my brought my kid along to temper your reaction. I mean, who can get mad at Henry?”

Yup, she is shaking now, well aren’t they a pair.

“It’s not your fault, love. I was trying to do too much at once, I wasn’t aware of my surroundings.”

“I just would hate,” Emma’s words catch in her throat as Killian stands, hand still on her hip as he crowds into her space.

Her back hits the wall and she hiccups a small sound of surprise. He rests his forehead against hers and she finds herself holding onto his waist just as tight as he is holding onto hers.

“I would hate to think of not having you here to help me. I can’t imagine. So, thank you.” His voice is a whisper as his lips find her forehead.

“You’d be fi-ine,” she stutters out as he moves to her cheek and presses another kiss there, and then again to the opposite side, all the while whispering his thanks.

She’s not sure how she’s still standing.

He pulls back just enough to look into her eyes, just enough so she can see those eyes drop to her lips, his intentions clear.

She’s not sure if he dips or she rises up on her toes but they meet somewhere in the middle. She hears that sound again from him, something caught between a hum and groan, and it’s something she feels across every inch of her and rolling against her tongue as she opens up for him.

He can’t seem to get close enough, his fingers tightening on her hip, urging her against him. Her hips rising to meet him.

“Oh.” Her sigh of want is lost between them, swallowed by lips that continue to taste, to insist on more.

When he finally moves away from her mouth, when his face is buried against her neck, sucking against her pulse point and his groan causes goosebumps to appear across her skin, she finally finds her voice. Barely.

“I should get back, Henry and—”

Oh, she tries, she really does but when looks up and his eyes are dark and his nose keeps brushing hers, she allows herself one more taste.

“I have to get back,” she finally whispers and she feels him nod against her neck, where his lips trail one last time before pulling away. Her whole body is coiled tight.

“I know, love. I could,”

“Come over,” she blurts out.

The most beautiful smile stretches across his face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, we can have supper and finish Window Wonderland.”

This time she feels his laugh against her lips, and can still feel it when she heads back to her apartment, knowing he is soon to follow.

**

He’s in her living room, staring out the window, when she gets home from work. Nothing usual or startling about that anymore, she almost comes to expect it. What she doesn’t expect is the hard set to his shoulders, the tension she can almost feel from across the room.

She should have known. She watches enough Christmas movies to know something always goes wrong. She’s lived enough of her own heartbreak to know what she’d found was too good to be true. Her lips must be cursed.

“Everything okay?”

She knows the answer is no. She can feel it in her bones but maybe she can be wrong this time. Please be wrong this time.

He doesn’t turn but he speaks, his tone harsh.

“Did you tell Sidney Glass where to find me? Did you tell the Globe?”

Emma doesn’t like the clear accusatory tone of his voice, it doesn’t sound like he’s asking questions. He should know better, he should know her better by now. But she can see he’s worked himself up again and she knows what an asshole Sidney Glass is, so maybe she can let this slide.

“Did you sell me out to get better placement for your article?”

No. Not that though.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. How else did he find me? How else does he know that I haven’t been back to Boston for the PT I should be doing?”

Emma approaches him slowly, trying to stay calm but he takes a step back.

“You know what, it doesn’t matter. I wanted to look up something on your computer and I saw all the tabs, the research into the Bruins staff.”

Emma’s reeling, she has no idea what’s going, she can’t keep up with the accusations. She shakes her head.

“So, you believe him? Over me? Over what we,” she trips over that last thought. “That’s what you think of me?”

“What am I supposed to think?” he asks, voice rising.

Before Emma can say that he’s supposed to trust her, they are interrupted by Henry’s trembling voice.

“That was me.”

They both look over at the same time. Her kid looks ready to cry and now she’s mad. She hears Killian’s quiet curse.

“I was looking stuff up. Not mom. It was for Operation Stanley. For you. I don’t know who that Glass guy is. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad at mom.”

She sees the first tear fall down Henry’s cheek and she wants to hit something, preferably Killian.

Henry disappears down the hall and they both jump when his door slams.

“I think you should leave.”

“Emma,” he quickly pleads, all the fight gone, looking like he only now realizes how much of an idiot he is.

“I don’t know what kind of holiday miracle I was thinking this was. Things like this don’t happen in real life. Besides, you’ll be back in Boston soon enough and leave us anyway. So, it’s probably just best if you go now. I really need to check on Henry.”

“Emma,” he tries again, sounding broken. Well, she guesses they are all a little broken right now, her own dam all but ready to burst.

“You can let yourself out.”

She leaves him standing there.

** Henry’s pain is easier to soothe than her own but she doesn’t much care for her own feelings right now. Or maybe it’s just easier to bury them. She’s good at that.

She assures Henry that Killian isn’t mad at him. That it was a misunderstanding and he had to visit his own family for Christmas. It could be true. She’s not sure. She hasn’t seen him. Not that she’s looked, much. Maybe she knocked once, but the home next to hers remains dark and still.

She appreciates Henry’s easy acceptance. Even if he might not completely believe her, even if he’s believing for her.

She has a really great kid.

They open their presents on Christmas morning, just the two of them. They stay in their pajamas all day and have breakfast for dinner. They FaceTime Mary Margaret and David and promise they can’t wait to see them for New Year.

It’s fine and nice, just like every Christmas, but even though neither say it, they both know someone is missing.

She holds Henry a little tighter that night as they watch The Goonies.

**

“How long do you think it would take for someone to find us if we hit a snowbank?”

Emma eases the car to a careful stop at the blinking red traffic light, and she counts it as a victory that her heart only stutters once when her back tires drift to the right.

“Not helping, kid.”

She loosens her hands on the steering wheel and turns to stare down her son. She feels more confident keeping her eyes on him than looking back outside.

Henry grins.

“Sorry. You’re doing great, ma. Just think of the story we’ll have to tell David and Mary Margaret,” Henry tries instead, and Emma sniffs a small laugh. “Maybe try the high beams?”

She switches her headlights to high, and they both look outside.

“Well, now I feel like we’re in that Stephen King movie,” Emma mumbles.

The high beams only exacerbate the problem, magnifying the amount of snow racing towards the car against the black night.

“That movie was hilarious,” Henry snorts out a laugh when Emma glares at him. He wiggles his gloved fingers at her. “Give me what I want, and I’ll go away,” he quotes from the movie before falling back into his seat, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“I should have never let you watch that.”

“You mean I shouldn’t have let you watch it,” Henry corrects her.

Emma shakes her head but finally cracks a smile before turning back to the challenge at hand. She checks both ways, although it’s not like there’s anyone else dumb enough to be on the roads, and eases forward. The snow cushions the sound of the tires, and they quietly roll further up the winding street.

“How about a driving song?” she asks, needing the distraction. Henry immediately fiddles with his iPod.

Emma startles at the quick drum beat and then has to laugh; he’s chosen, It’s the end of the world.

“And I feel fine,” the both sing together.

***

They pull up to a rustic but charming two-story cabin. It has wrap around decks and Christmas lights that twinkle from beneath the newly fallen snow. The windows glow warmly, and smoke rises in thick plumes from the stone chimney. It looks like the perfect way to spend New Year’s and judging by the amount of snow that is still falling, the next few days as well.

Emma is grateful for the escape from reality and the promise of a friendly shoulder to lean on.

When she and Henry had finally found the Low River Road turn-off, they’d given a small cheer and held their breath as her bug inched up the final steep hill. (With a small note to let David and Mary Margaret know, maybe they could rent a place a little less out of the way.) But now that the handbrake is pulled and the motor off, it’s not so bad.

“Grab your suitcase and the green grocery bag.”

It doesn’t take them long to load up with their bags and push through the snow to reach the front door. After a knock that is met with silence, they figure Mary Margaret and David are busy with dinner preparations and let themselves in.

“Whoa, this is awesome,” Henry whispers in awe as they step inside. They find themselves in a large living room, a fire crackling at one end, large picture windows lining the front wall. Emma has to grab him by the hood before he tracks snow all over the floor.

“Boots, coat, and grab a bag, then you can go find Mary Margaret and David and explore.”

Emma drops her bags and turns to hang her coat when she feels Henry tugging on her arm.

“Uh, mom,” he mumbles.

“One sec, I have hat hair,” she responds tipping her head over to shake out her blonde curls.

“Mom. Now.”

She stands up, words about patience on the tip of her tongue but they get stuck in her throat.

Two people she’s never seen before stand across from them, peeking out from what she assumes is the kitchen, matching confused expressions.

She blinks and reaches for Henry, tugging him closer.

“You said the address was 223,” she mutters.

“It is,” he whispers back peevishly, clearly offended at her assumption that he got something wrong.

And so, Emma takes a deep breath and smiles.

“You wouldn’t happen to have David and Mary Margaret Nolan hiding in the kitchen?” she asks, stuffing her hands in her back pockets.

The couple approaches, not looking much older than her, smiles tentative. She’s clearly interrupted them making dinner, as the man has a Kiss the Cook apron on and the woman is drying her hands on a towel, but they don’t look put out, just a little puzzled.

Before anyone can say anything else another voice calls out from the kitchen.

“Did you want the Pinot Noir or the Cabernet?”  

Emma’s heart might stop completely.

Un-fucking-believable. This isn’t real life. This doesn’t happen.

A dark, messy head of hair looks through the doorway, first, at the couple he clearly knows and then to Emma and Henry. He nearly falls into the living room.

“Emma? Henry?”

She hiccups out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Killian,” she mumbles and feels all eyes on her.

***

It doesn’t take long to figure out the misunderstanding. Mary Margaret and David are in fact on 223 Low River Road but somehow in the storm, Emma and Henry had turned on High River Road and let themselves into a cottage that belonged to complete strangers.

Well. Sort of.

The cottage is owned by Liam and Elsa Jones, an extremely welcoming and understanding couple, who also happen to be Killian’s brother and sister-in-law. And while Emma and Killian had stared in silent shock at each other, Elsa had taken charge. She insisted Emma and Henry come inside and warm up by the fire while they figured everything out. Emma had tried to beg off but no sooner were the words out of her mouth, Elsa was at her side, arm around her shoulders.

“Nonsense.”

She just manages to grab onto Henry’s hand, all the while carefully avoiding any direct eye contact with the wide blue eyes that seem to want to say a hundred different things. She isn’t sure she is ready for any of them.

**

“I mean if we made it here, we could probably make it over there,” Emma states without much conviction as she stares out the front window, arms tight around herself. If she squints, she can just make out the glowing lights of David and Mary Margaret’s cottage across the lake.

“You can’t possibly head back out in this, don’t be an idiot,” Killian finally blurts out from the kitchen threshold.

Emma slowly turns to him, as does everyone else.

“That’s the first thing you have to say to me?” she asks. “Pretty sure there’s one idiot in this room and it’s not me.”

Killian sputters, Liam hides his laugh behind a cough, Henry looks shocked and Elsa hurries across the room to wrap an arm around Killian’s waist.

“I think what my brother-in-law is trying to say is, no one should be out in this weather. They won’t clear the roads until morning, and he would much rather have you here safe. We all would. I’m sure your brother told you the same thing.”

Emma opens and closes her mouth and eyes the window, watching the snow continue to fall, thicker and harder than before. Elsa isn’t wrong, David actually threatened to leave her in the cold if she dared to leave.

“We have plenty of food and beds for you,” Elsa adds, smile wide, but Emma notices the pinch she gives to Killian’s side, silencing him. “And plenty of Champagne.”

Emma looks to Henry who shrugs, but she sees the beginnings of a smile overtaking his face, although he hesitates, looking to Killian.

“You really don’t mind?”

A small crack in her armor appears at the sight of Killian’s frustrated demeanor crumbling at Henry’s question.

“Oh, Henry” he starts, pained, and takes a step forward but stops, looking to Emma. She gives him a tight nod.

She has to look away when Killian drops to his knee in front of Henry.

“Lad, of course I don’t mind. I’m quite glad you’re here, that the fates deemed me lucky enough to ring in the New Year with you and your mum. I’m truly sorry what I did made you think otherwise. As ever, your mother is right, I am indeed an idiot and I hope you can forgive me.”

Henry surprises Killian with a hug, nearly knocking him off balance.

She won’t cry.

She roughly rubs a stray tear away with the back of her hand.

She won’t cry more than a tear.

Emma pulls in a deep breath through her nose, trying to get her eyes to focus on something, anything, outside.

“Think I could go apologize to your mum now?”

Henry’s answer is whispered but she assumes it must be in the affirmative because the next thing she hears is Elsa asking him if he wants to help pick out some dessert and Liam’s deep chuckle at whatever Henry’s response is.

She can’t bring herself to move from her spot by the window, especially not when she feels him behind her, close and warm and he has to know.

“I didn’t talk to Sidney Glass.”

“I know,” comes his quiet reply.

“I would never have done that to you.”

“I know.”

“But,”

She feels his hand at her elbow and allows him to turn her. His hand moves to brush against her cheek, knuckles wiping away the wet trails. She clearly isn’t very good at the one tear thing.

“How do you know? How do you know now and not then? Who did you speak to? What,” her voice catches. “What do you want?”

“You,” he says simply.

She shakes her head.

“I don’t…”

“I know you. I knew then it wasn’t you but I let him in my head, I’m so terribly sorry. I saw the research, I had a voicemail from my trainer and I panicked. I’m having a harder time handling this injury than I thought and I took it out on the wrong people.”

His hand finds her hip and squeezes and it’s like something clicks in place. She really looks at him for the first time since arriving. She sees the sincerity in his eyes, sees the man that reached for her in his moment of panic and she lets herself lean into him, hand over his heart. He seems to sag in relief.

“I went to Boston,” he reveals and her hand tightens in his shirt but he shakes his head at her worry. “Wait,” he whispers and takes a deep breath.

“I went to Boston to see my doctor. You were right, I didn’t do anything but superficial damage to my hand that night. In fact, it’s healing quite well and she thinks that I can start some rehabilitation as soon as this week. But I’m going to do it here, in Storybrooke.”

Her eyes widen in surprise and Killian actually smiles. It’s small and a little nervous, but also, hopeful.

“You’re going to stay here?”

“Well, I’ll have to go back to Boston from time to time and eventually I hope I can hold a stick again and play but,”

“You’re totally going to play again,” Emma interrupts his explanation but then apologizes, “Sorry, sorry, but?”

Her heart races while she waits but his full smile now lets her know she has nothing to be anxious about.

“But right now, we have time, here. That is, if you’ll have me? And then we can figure out the rest, together.”

She nods, not trusting her voice. He pulls her closer, forehead falling to hers.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she finally answers, nose nudging against his, lips so close she can almost taste him.

“You guys almost done? Dinner’s getting cold.”

She nearly jumps out of her skin at Liam’s booming voice but she doesn’t go far, instead nearly collapses into Killian. She just catches Henry’s grin across the room before burying her face into Killian’s shoulder, delighting at the feel of his exasperated laugh and his whispered words.

“I got you.”

**

They eat, they drink, they ignore the blustery weather outside and they finally make it to the final ten seconds before the New Year.

And when the clock strikes twelve, Emma finds Henry first, peppering him with kisses that he pretends to hate but laughs the whole way through. She lets herself be pulled into a hug from Liam and to a kiss on the cheek from Elsa but from across the room her eyes find Killian’s and she knows what she wants.

They meet in the middle and she shivers as his lips find her ear.

“Happy New Year, love.”

She glances around and when she finds Henry happily occupied with Elsa and Liam, she tightens her grip on Killian’s hand and tugs him around the corner into the hall.

His breath whooshes out of him when his back hits the wall but he seems more than happy to be in that position. Emma presses up against every delicious inch of him, arms winding around his neck.

“Okay?” she whispers her question against his lips before swallowing his humming agreement, easily getting lost in the warm, wet slide of his tongue. And she knows they should stop, should rejoin the group but he tugs her closer, and she wants to taste the champagne on his lips a little longer so she gives herself a few more moments of being selfish.

When they finally pull away, and she works to calm her breathing, she finds his eyes, blue and full of an emotion neither might be ready to name but she’s certainly close to feeling.

“Happy New Year, Killian,” she finally says, heart absolutely full.

And maybe she lets him kiss her one last time for good measure.

[glassesstories]

The Parent Trap (1998)

The Parent Trap is one of Disney original movie starring Lindsay Lohan, Dennis Quaid, and Natasha Richardson. The story taking place in 1986 where an American Winery owner Nichola Parker (Dennis Quaid) married to a British Wedding Gown Designer Elizabeth James (Natasha Richardson) in a Queen Elizabeth 2 cruise but separate later. Now jump to the present day or 1998, the story taking place where young girls around the world go on a summer camp in Camp Walden in Maine. There you met Hallie (Lindsay Lohan) a first timer camper who meet her two summer friends who helped her to retrieved her travel bag. Then you meet another girl who has the same physical with Hallie but has different attributes and personality she called Annie (Lindsay Lohan) who just arrived with her loyal butler, Martin (Simon Kunz) from London, England. With an awesome handshake, her butler departs and left her alone in the summer camp.

The camp has so many activities that girls can do which later put them on fencing battle that gets a little to wild because neither Hallie or Annie want to lose but, in the end,, Hallie lose when Annie pock her but turns out Hallie lost her balance and fall into the water wooden tub which shock Annie but Hallie want to take revenge and pull Annie to the wooden tub also. After introducing the shock for having the same figure and start mocking each other which become the beginning of their prank to each other until the Head of the camp is had enough and sentence them to the isolated cabin which they still hate each other until one rainy day when the wind is too strong and blew up most of Hallie poster. Annie help Hallie to close the window which later gives them a new start of a friendship but later they somehow thought that they are more than that, they are twins with a divorced parent.

They then plan on reunited them by switching place, Hallie goes to London as Annie and Annie goes to Napa Valley, California as Hallie. At first all going as planned Hallie imitates Annie very well but Annie didn’t imitate Hallie very well, I think because Hallie didn’t teach Annie very well or Annie is not very good in adapting. Chessy (Lisa Ann Walter) got suspicious because of Hallie she knows like spicy food and eat a lot but when Annie came along, she didn’t eat much and open the door at the wrong method, also Sammy didn’t recognize her which rather odd for Chessy.

The plan goes so well but, turns out Nicholas is going to married Meredith Blake (Elaine Hendrix), a child-hating gold-digger woman. Even though Annie already tried to put some negative thing which is false fact to Meredith still, Meredith wants to marry Nicholas. Annie try to ask Hallie to come to Nape with Elizabeth but Hallie wants to spend more time with her mother and bailed out on Annie until Annie send a fax to London saying 911 emergency and Hallie call her by the telephone booth and get caught by her Grandfather. She tells the truth to her grandfather and then her mother which exclude the information of Nicholas their father is going to be married in a couple of months. Hallie got Elizabeth to go to San Francisco to meet with Nicholas and Elizabeth find out that Nicholas is getting married and Hallie and Annie plan in reuniting them.

Yet for Elizabeth is complicated because her life is in London and his life is in Nape Valley so even though after San Francisco they go to the three days camping which Elizabeth switch places with Meredith and Nicholas called off the wedding for the twins still, Elizabeth choose to left for London with Annie. Deep sad and sorrow follow Annie for she can’t have her family whole again but turns out Hallie and Nicholas came to London to go after them and not make another same mistake. In the end, Hallie and Annie got what they wanted, they parent remarried again and Chessy and Martin got together at the end also.

The movie is a movie that I and my family keep on watching because they are everywhere. I always like Dennis Quaid acting in all his movies and Lindsay Lohan is a very good actress yet, it’s a shame that no matter how great you are problems always follow where ever you go. Although, in this particular movie when I watch it as a child I don’t particularly pay attention to the attitude of the twins but when I watch it as I’m older I caught that Hallie is the spoiled and immature one that keeps bailing out on Annie, and when they tried to trick their parent into agreeing three days camp before summer over I definitely knew which one Hallie and Annie. As for Natasha, I’m not very sure if I ever watch her other movies or maybe I did but I didn’t pay attention much to it. The storyline of this movie is very refreshing because I never watch other movies with the same storyline even though it has the similar storyline with the Mary-Kate and Ashley Olson move back in 1995 called “It Takes Two” starring Mary Kate and Ashley Olson with Kristie Alley and Steve Guttenberg but still have a very different setting and all. This movie is actually a remade from the 1961 Parent Trap that in 1986 until 1989 Disney produced three television sequels. Overall, the movie is great for watch list together with family. it definitely adds-on on my watch list and I recommended it very much.

-GlassesNerdy