#Thanksgiving dinner is much more lively when you give Killian a guitar and let him do his thing

[piraterefrigerator]

Colin and his musical abilities give me fic ideas that make me very happy

[kiki-ciara-blog]

Half the World Away

This is my CSSS for @imagnifika.I hope you enjoy it, there’s a little angst as well as fluff. It's been lovely getting to know you over the last few weeks. Enjoy your Christmas celebrations when they come on 8th January!  Massive thanks to @best-left-hook-jones for beta reading.

Also on AO3

7k words

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KJ 15:48 Morning Swan

ES 10:48 Afternoon Jones

KJ 15:49 Many meetings today?

ES 10:50 Nope. I’ve got the afternoon off.  You nearly finished then?

KJ 15:50 10 minutes and counting and then I’m off until January!

ES 10:50 Nice! Any big plans for the evening?

KJ 15:51 Huge - a ready meal for one and 3 episodes of Stranger Things to watch on Netflix.

ES 10:51 Exciting. I’ve got to do a grocery run but shall we facetime when I get home then?

KJ 10:52 I look forward to it!

She couldn’t quite pinpoint when this thing with Killian Jones became more than a casual acquaintance and turned into a solid friendship, perhaps the most important one in her life. It was gradual, evolving over time until Emma was surprised to find herself looking forward to sharing the upcoming Christmas season with her friend. Even if there was an ocean between them. She told herself that it was only because it meant they would have more time to talk, rather than Emma actually getting into the festive spirit herself.

It had started around 18 months ago when she and Killian had been partnered on a project being run jointly by the London and Boston offices of Mills International.  Due to the difference in time zones, Emma would exchange handover emails and skype calls with her British counterpart as he was reaching the end of his day’s work and she was part-way through her morning.

A couple of months into the project, Killian had been due to be out of town at a conference, and had insisted that Emma have his personal mobile number, so that she could contact him whilst he was offline if there were any issues. There hadn’t been, but she also didn’t delete his number when he returned to the office the following week.

Over time, their daily handovers became more informal, sharing little updates about their personal lives in addition to the required work related information. And then, as the long Thanksgiving weekend approached last year, Emma decided to give Killian her personal number. He would be working on what was just another Thursday in November for the London office, she’d reasoned, and he might need to get in touch.

She had been a little disappointed when the Whatsapp notification came through at 7am on Thanksgiving morning. The first couple of words of the message showed on her lock screen and read: [Swan, Sorry to message you so early…]. Sighing, Emma had tapped the notification to see what the problem was, but was then pleasantly surprised to see a series of silly gifs and emojis beneath the full message.

Swan, Sorry to message you so early, but I wanted to be the first to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving! I’m having a turkey sandwich for lunch in solidarity!

So yeah, that was probably when the contact outside of work had begun. They’d still been few and far between to begin with, though. A link from Killian to some ridiculous story he’d seen in the British tabloids, like the Seagull that had stolen bags of chips from a shop. A frustrated gif from Emma of Chewbacca smashing a guitar, sent while she was sitting on hold with her energy supplier for nearly an hour. A photo on Facebook of the London team at their work’s Christmas dinner, with a comment beneath from Killian tagging Emma as a missing member of the team. A corresponding photo from Emma on Instagram the next night of a bottle of wine that she’d tagged Killian in. They’d added each other on various social media platforms and would like or comment on their posts, although Emma was always careful to ensure that she didn’t do so excessively, still uncertain of the boundaries of this new friendship.

After a particularly awkward Valentine’s date, where Killian had been set up against his own good sense with the sister of a friend and colleague, he’d returned home and sent Emma a message.

Well that was a disaster Swan. I hope you have better luck on your date tonight!

Oh no what happened?

Turns out that the chap that this Felicity had seen across the bar and wanted to go on a date with was Kieran from Accounting and not myself.

Ouch

Yes, seemingly she’d spotted him/me when we had a team night out and we both had blue shirts on, have dark hair and stubble so Robin had assumed it was me when she started asking questions. What time are you meeting your mystery man?

Billy? In an hour. Ruby hasn’t told me much about him, just that he’s not long moved into town after a divorce.

Well, have fun Swan and be safe.

When Emma returned home a mere two hours later, her first thought was to get in touch with Killian. Kicking off her heels in the hallway she fired off a quick message.

Hey. You still awake?

She plugged her phone in to charge and got changed into her pyjamas, not expecting him to reply given the late hour. When she checked her phone a few minutes later, Emma was delighted to see a message waiting.  

You’re back early, Swan, everything okay?

I’m fine Jones, I think this must be a night for disastrous blind dates!

Do tell!

He was already several drinks in when I arrived, had ordered food for both of us, thought I wouldn’t notice when he tried to pinch the waitress’ ass as she walked by, and then tried to get handsy with me.

Are you sure you’re okay?

Really, I’m fine. I downed my drink, threw his beer in his face and his burger in his lap. Then grabbed my coat and jumped in a cab.

Seconds after sending the last message Emma’s phone vibrated in her hand with an incoming call.

‘Hey Killian, you didn’t have to call, honestly I’m fine!’

‘I have no doubt that you are, Swan, but I wanted to make sure, and I wanted to commend you on your stylish exit.’ His voice sounded huskier than when they spoke at work, as if it was thick with sleep

‘What time is it there?’

‘Just after 1.’

‘I woke you up didn’t I? I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have messaged.’ Emma kicked herself for being so thoughtless.

‘Nonsense. I was actually trying to stay awake to see if you would be sending me any of your usual gif reactions to your date.’

Emma grinned. ‘Really? Well I’m sure if you hadn’t phoned I’d have sent some. Probably involving Lesley Knope or some angry kitties.’

‘Well, as I’m wide awake, shall we share all the horrendous details of our delectable dates?’

Getting comfortable for a long chat, Emma replied, ‘Absolutely, you start Jones.’

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After that, the phone calls became more regular. Sometimes it would be Emma calling Killian when she was up late, knowing he would be getting up for work. Other times Killian would return the wake-up call on his lunch break. There were calls at more civil times for both of them on weekends, late evening for Killian and mid afternoon for Emma. All of these interspersed with messages, and their regular work related dialogue.

It was fun, and easy. Killian soon became one of the best friends that Emma had ever had. It seemed he could sense when she was doubting herself and immediately appeared in her notifications as her personal cheerleader. Emma, in return, tried to rally Killian’s spirits whenever he was particularly stressed at work, going out of her way to find things to make him laugh (dogs dressed as Yoda seemed to be the most effective). There would barely be a day going by where they didn’t speak or message at least once.

Then of course there were the little gifts and postcards she would get in the mail from him. Sometimes it would be a special hot chocolate mix or coffee blend that he had come across and wanted her to try. Other times it would be a book that they had talked about, or some trinket that reminded him of her. When he went on his travels at the weekends he would try and find the tackiest and most tasteless postcard that he could, knowing she would get a kick out of it.

For her birthday, he had sent her a stunning charm bracelet with a swan attached. She had squealed down the phone at him when the mailman delivered her parcel.

‘Oh my god Killian thank you so much I love it I love it I love it!’ she rambled.

‘Bloody hell Swan, I think only dogs were able to hear some of that. Calm down love.’ Emma tried to contain her excitement, but still bounced a little on her toes as she giggled. ‘You are most welcome in any case.’

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December 22nd was no different. Emma had to run to the grocery store on the way home from her half day at work, making sure her fridge was stocked with comfort food before putting herself into hibernation mode until Christmas had been and gone for another year.

After queuing for longer than seemed humanly possible, Emma finally returned to her apartment, plated up her grilled cheese and hot chocolate that she had picked up on the way and dialled Killian.

‘Swan!’ he greeted, eyes twinkling with mirth as his face filled her phone screen.

‘Jones, how was your frozen lasagne?’

‘I haven’t had it yet, it’s still in the microwave - see?’ He turned around so that Emma could see the microwave on the bench behind him.

‘Oh yum, you lucky, lucky man. I’ll try not to make you too jealous with my grilled cheese.’ She took a bite and gave an exaggerated moan of pleasure, noticing the way his eyebrow jerked up at the noise. ‘Mmm so good. Want some?’ She held the sandwich out towards her phone.

‘Not nice to tease a man, Swan. Bad form, love.’

‘I’m just getting you back for those gingerbread cookies you taunted me with last week’ she laughed.

‘Fair point. So what are you going to do for the rest of your day?’

Emma told him about her minimal plans as she pottered around her apartment folding laundry and generally tidying up. Killian had retrieved his dinner from the microwave and had settled himself at the kitchen table, happy to let her talk while he ate, his phone propped up against something to keep them both in view.

Having inadvertently given Killian a virtual tour, he asked, ‘Are you putting your tree up this weekend? I haven’t spotted it in the background.’

‘Not going to happen.’ Emma replied abruptly, sitting back down on the couch and trying her best not to glare. ‘I don’t have a tree, never had, probably never will. Not a huge fan of Christmas, if I’m honest. I mean I’m happy for others to enjoy it but, myself, I’d rather just hibernate until all the good will has moved on.’

‘So you’re not doing anything special on Monday then, love?’

‘Nope, not this year. Well, not any year, to be honest. Normally Mary Margaret insists I join her and David for dinner and she force feeds me festive cheer until I’m gagging on it. But this year they are going to stay with David’s mum in Wisconsin so I’ll be cocooning myself in a blanket on the couch and enjoying the extra couple of days off work. And talking to you, of course. That’s the only part I’m really looking forward to.’

Emma looked away from Killian at that admission, reluctant to see his reaction. He didn’t miss a beat and carried straight on with the conversation.

‘Sounds similar to my own plans there, Swan. Not a big fan of the holiday myself. I tend to get all Bah-humbug about it,’ he shrugged.

‘Tell me, Jones - how have we made it to December 22nd and have never had a proper conversation about Christmas when we speak every day? Did you used to spend it with your brother?’

A sadness washed over Killian’s face, his brow furrowing and the light vanishing from his eyes. ‘I did. We had some good times. Never a dull moment.’ He paused. ‘Until the accident. There were a few magical years with someone very special too. But that was a long time ago.’

‘Milah?’ Emma asked tentatively.

‘Aye,’ he sighed and scratched behind his ear, unwilling to make eye contact.  

‘Oh, Killian, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you down. Here’s a deal for you. As we both normally have challenging Christmases, why don’t we have a virtual one together this year? We can keep each other company, without having to go overboard on the festivities.’ She wanted to reach out and squeeze his hand, provide a gesture of comfort, but the thousands of miles between them made that impossible.  

‘Sounds like a fine plan, Swan. Let’s do it.’ Emma could see him rallying himself. ‘Now let’s talk about something else other than why we don’t like the holidays.’

They chatted for what seemed like hours, and quite possibly was, agreeing to speak again the next day.

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Saturday morning, had Emma feeling more positive about the forthcoming holiday than she had in years. That was, until she checked her Facebook feed and saw the pregnancy announcement that Neal and Tamara had made. She kicked herself for letting things like that get to her. Neal was ancient history. It wasn’t as if she still had feelings for him. But it still sucked that after his betrayal all those years ago - where he had unceremoniously hung her out to dry - that he was the one who found love and happiness. He got to have the family he had promised her 17 year old self. And yet here she was spending Christmas alone. Again.

Determined not to wallow in self pity, she poured her second coffee of the morning and called Mary Margaret to wish her and David safe travels. Mary Margaret’s festive cheer was normally highly contagious, and this morning she was as effusive as ever. As they chatted, she waxed lyrical about the three different types of cupcakes and the two batches of sugar cookies she had been baking up until 2am. She told Emma of the hand-crafted gifts she had made for David and Ruth, mentioning that Emma would receive her gift when they returned at the end of the month. Christmas couldn’t help but be magical when Mary Margaret was involved.

Normally Emma would be part of that too, albeit in small manageable portions. As they spoke it dawned on her that this year she would be completely alone, all her closest friends over 1000 miles away. Feeling another wave of sadness rapidly approaching, Emma wrapped up the call and agreed to meet Mary Margaret on New Years Eve when they returned, with a further promise of a phone call on Christmas Day.

As she hung up the call, the sadness she had so desperately been trying to push deep down through the soles of her feet reared up with a vengeance, and the tears started to flow. It was like a dam bursting; what began as a sniffle quickly became violent sobbing that took her completely by surprise.  Unsettling as it was, in the back of her mind she realised that this moment was probably overdue. Not normally one for expressing her feelings, many painful thoughts had been held in submission for too long.  Unable to bring the sobbing under control, she relented and gave in to the outpouring of emotions, hugging a cushion to her chest as she slid to the floor her back leaning against the couch.

After what seemed like hours, but was in truth only a few minutes, the tears subsided and Emma began to feel like herself again. She was just about to reach for the box of tissues on the table beside her when her phone rang. Killian! Dammit! She couldn’t talk to him like this. They had become incredibly close these last few months, but she hadn’t cried in front of him yet, and that was a level of vulnerability she didn’t think she could manage just now. So she sent the call to voicemail. A minute later, he called again, and as before, she sent it straight to voicemail. Shortly after, her phone buzzed with a message notification.

Swan, I know you’re rejecting my calls, is everything ok?

Not up for talking right now, Jones

Now I’m worried. What happened? Are you alright?

I’m fine, I’ll call you soon.

Promise?

Promise

As her last message sent, Emma realised that she did want to talk to Killian about her sorrows. If anyone would understand the loneliness that Christmas could bring it would be him. Plus, she found herself wanting to share more and more of herself with her friend these days.

She stood up, walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.  Her face was puffy, her eyes bloodshot from the tears and her nose was redder than Rudolph’s. She splashed some water on her face to cool her cheeks, pulled her hair up into a messy bun and then went to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. Armed with caffeine, she grabbed her phone and started a facetime with Killian, figuring that if she was going to confide in him, then she wanted to be able to look him in the eyes.

Within moments, his handsome face filled her screen, his brow furrowed and his blue eyes full of concern.

‘You’ve been crying.’ It wasn’t a question. Emma nodded her head and bit her lip in response. ‘Talk to me, Swan,’ he continued softly, ‘you can tell me anything.’

‘I know, and I will tell you,’ she began, ‘but before I do, you need to understand that I’m not normally like this. I don’t wallow in self pity. I’m not some damsel in distress. Nobody saves me but me.’

‘Understood.’ He smiled, ‘I was under no illusion that you needed rescuing, love.’

He said nothing more, just nodded to her encouragingly and waited until she was ready to tell her story. With a deep breath she began, starting with Neal, telling Killian how she had fallen for an older man in her teens. A man who had promised her the world and then had abandoned her - quite literally leaving the country - when she told him she thought she was pregnant. It had turned out to be a false alarm, but by then Neal was in the wind.

‘So when I saw the Facebook notification this morning that he and his fiance are expecting a child…’

‘It opened old wounds?’

‘Yeah,’ she whispered, a fresh wave of tears threatening to fall.

‘If you don’t mind me asking, love, given that he hurt you so much, how are you seeing him on social media?’

‘Oh yeah, that!’ Emma huffed. ‘I wish I wasn’t. An old friend of mine, August, who also knows Neal, commented on the post so it appeared on my newsfeed. Normally I just skim over anything to do with him, but this one stood out.’

‘I sense that isn’t the only thing that upset you this morning Emma,’ Killian continued, his eyes searching her face as if for clues.

‘No, you’re right. It’s not.’ Her shoulders sagged as she twisted a loose strand of hair around her fingers, not looking at Killian. ‘I spoke to Mary Margaret and she was so excited about going to Wisconsin with David. And I, I just felt, I don’t know…’

‘Lonely?’

‘Lonely,’ she agreed, and this time the tears did fall. Not to the ugly sobbing extent of earlier but enough that she couldn’t hide them from Killian.

‘Oh, love,’ he murmured. ‘I wish I could be there with you right now. I think you need a hug.’

Emma nodded, breathing deeply to get her emotions back under control once again.

‘Thank you for listening, Killian. It really has helped. And I’m sorry that you had to see me in such a state. Like I said, I’m not normally like this.’

‘You have nothing to apologise for lass, you are lovely in every way. And if I might be so bold, even your nose running and tear tracks down your cheeks doesn’t detract from how beautiful you are.’  

‘Charmer!’

‘I prefer dashing rapscallion!’ Emma tried to stifle a snort. ‘See? At least I made you smile, love.’ Killian looked like he wanted to say more, but was holding himself in check.

‘You did. I think I’m going to get dressed and head out for some fresh air. Clear my head.’

‘Ok well if you want to talk again later I’ll be here. And if not we’ll chat again tomorrow, aye?’

‘Yes, thank you again, Killian.’

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As she lay in bed that night, Emma wondered, not for the first time that day, whether there was any deeper meaning to Killian’s comments about her being beautiful. In recent months, their conversations had become more personal, and affectionate. There had been the beautiful bracelet for her birthday. He had taken to calling her ‘love’, though she was sure that that was just a figure of speech. It couldn’t mean any more than that, could it? Even so, it was irrelevant given the small matter of the Atlantic Ocean sitting between them. They’d never even met in person, although she hoped in the coming year she would be able to rectify that. Perhaps she could take a trip to London?

It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world though, would it? He was a very attractive man, he was kind, thoughtful, funny, handsome, attentive, supportive, incredibly good looking (she might have already covered that one). And he was one of her best friends. Maybe Emma did have feelings developing for him, or maybe she was just transferring her loneliness into romantic feelings because he was always so attentive.

When Emma woke on Sunday morning, her news app reported storms sweeping Britain and causing untold damage. Still cocooned under her blanket, she fired off a quick text to Killan to make sure he was unaffected.

Afternoon, Jones. Just read about the storms, hope you’re okay

Morning Swan :)  All good for now. Expecting London to get the brunt of it sometime this evening. How are you feeling today?

Much better thanks. I’ve just woken up, are you still good to talk in a couple of hours?

Glad to hear it. Can we make it 10 your time? I’ll need to pop out mid afternoon.

Perfect, speak soon x

Looking forward to it x

Emma re-read the last two messages again. She hadn’t intended to put a kiss at the end of hers, it wasn’t something she and Killian did. Emojis yes, kisses no. She was even more surprised when he returned the gesture. She needed to stop reading into things. It probably didn’t mean anything. Friends put kisses at the end of text messages all the time.

Eventually, after scrolling through her various newsfeeds and dashboards on every app on her phone, she dragged herself out of the warmth of her bed, had a shower, and made coffee and pop tarts. It was, in her opinion, a perfectly balanced breakfast and ideal for someone in hibernation. She was flicking through her choices on Netflix, trying to find something non-Christmassy when her phone rang.

‘Hello.’

‘Hello, Swan.’

‘You sound funny, Jones. What’s that noise in the background?’

‘That would be the wind, love.’ The background roaring was distorting Killian’s voice.  

‘That sounds far too loud to be inside.’

‘That’s because I’m not. I decided to go out earlier than I’d originally intended as the weather is closing in. I’ll be inside in a moment so you should be able to hear me better.’

‘What was that? I can barely hear you!’ Emma shouted.

‘Hang on, Swan!’ Emma kept the phone to her ear as she focussed again on her Netflix choices, waiting for Killian to start talking again.

‘Sorry love, that was a bad idea to call you while I was outside. Can you hear me now?’

‘Yes, but it’s still really noisy. Where are you?’

‘I’m at, eh’ he paused, ‘a train station. So you might hear announcements over the tannoy.’

‘Are you going somewhere?’ His hesitation seemed off, but Emma assumed he was just distracted by his surroundings.

‘Just taking shelter for now.’  They chatted for a few minutes, Emma only partly paying attention to the conversation as she finally decided on binge watching The Crown for a few hours.

‘Well, love, I suppose I’d better venture back out again if I’m going to succeed in my Christmas Eve quest. I reckon I’ll be up late tonight so we can talk again this evening if you wish?’

‘That sounds good. I’m not planning on moving from the couch anytime soon so call me anytime. Be safe, Killian.’

The rest of the day passed unremarkably, Emma stuck to her plan of hibernation, moving only occasionally from the couch when nature called or she needed snacks. She maintained a running commentary for Killian on Whatsapp of the highlights of each episode, with occasional selfies of herself snuggled up under a blanket, or of her latest mug of hot chocolate. The first few he read and commented on, but after that he went silent. She assumed he was focused on getting back from his mission into the warmth and safety of his home.

She sent him a text mid afternoon, in case the weather was causing internet issues for him. Certain that he would be home by then and keen to hear how his day had gone. No reply. He had been particularly vague about his ‘quest’ when she had questioned him -  he’d joked that it was ‘Top Secret’ and that details could only be given out on a need-to-know basis. Perhaps he’d called in to see a friend on the way home, she thought. Or gone for a Christmas Eve pint with the lads.

Emma sent another text an hour later, when the first had still gone unanswered.

Just checking you’re okay, Jones. Let me know you got home safely, please.

Half an hour later there was still no reply and a little ball of anxiety set root in Emma’s stomach.

Jones, are you okay?

By 6pm, Emma was starting to fret. Killian’s radio silence continued. Her multiple text messages remained ignored or unseen, and there was still no tick mark to show that he had read the messages on Whatsapp. Facebook Messenger showed that he had been active 6 hours ago. He was tagged in a post by his friend Robin, who had indeed been out for pints with some of their mutual friends, and remarked on his unexpected absence. Clearly he had planned to meet them for drinks and hadn’t shown. That didn’t necessarily mean anything; he might have cancelled on them a couple of days ago. He might have met up with other people for a drink instead. Even so the knot in her stomach tightened, the longer he stayed out of contact. She called his number but it went straight to voicemail.

‘Killian, I’m starting to worry. Call me, please.’

Under other circumstances Emma would think nothing of him being out of contact for a few hours. It was partly because she knew that the storm winds were building, he had said that London would be getting the brunt of it about now.  It was also because they had agreed to speak later on, and she expected him to be around by now. Something didn’t feel right about this. He wouldn’t have agreed to speak later if he was going out for the evening, besides he had said he was just popping out. That implied that he would be returning home within an hour or so. It had been 8 hours.

The minutes and hours ticked by slowly, and Emma’s apprehension steadily increased. When she wasn’t searching the internet for news updates in the UK she was pacing her apartment and working her way through a bottle of wine. She almost sent Robin a message at one point to see if he knew where Killian was, but then stopped herself as she didn’t know him and it felt a little too much in the realms of clingy girlfriend. Wait, what? She wasn’t Killian’s girlfriend so why would she even be thinking of herself in those terms? And as for clingy. Emma didn’t do clingy. She was fiercely independent.

It must be the wine talking.

When midnight approached with still no word, Emma reluctantly decided to go to call it a night, although she very much doubted that she would sleep a wink. Setting an alarm so that she could try and find out what had happened to Killian first thing in the morning, she climbed into bed. She sent one last text and then turned out the light.

Merry Christmas, Killian, hope you are okay. Thinking of you x

Her phone buzzing on the nightstand woke her from a rapidly fading dream that hazily seemed to involve someone who looked a lot like Killian and a hell of a lot of kissing. She groaned, telling herself that the dream was simply a manifestation of worrying about him all day. Although, she had to admit that making out with him in her dream had certainly been enjoyable. Something to dwell upon to later. Why was she awake? Her phone, right. What time was it?

Emma reached across and grabbed her phone. 2.07am. Who was sending messages at this hour?

I’m so sorry for worrying you, Emma. I’ve just got your messages and missed calls. I promise I will explain everything when you wake up in a few hours x

Where are you, Killian? What the hell happened? Are you okay?

Sorry for waking you. I’m fine. Honestly. You should go back to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.

No way, buddy. I’m wide awake. I’ve been so worried. Let’s talk now.

Whilst all of Killian’s previous texts had followed quickly on from hers, Emma got no response to her last message. She had felt enormous relief when she saw the first text from him but now the anxiety of the afternoon and evening returned quickly as something felt off, once again.

Fifteen minutes later, as she sat in bed scrolling through news feeds again, her phone finally rang.

‘Killian?’

‘Sorry again, Swan. I wasn’t expecting you to be awake and was in the middle of something so couldn’t call right away.’

‘Where were you yesterday? I was so worried! I thought something had happened, that you had been injured in the storm.’ She could feel herself starting to ramble. ‘I checked every UK news site I could find to see if there were any updates.’

‘Emma…’

‘I almost got in touch with Robin to see if he knew anything, and I probably would have done that in the morning if there was still no word from you.’

‘Emma love…’ Killian tried to interrupt again.

‘And I know that maybe that would have been overkill, but I was so worried! So tell me, what happened to you yesterday? Where did you go?’

‘I promise I can explain and I will, in detail. You know, you really should get the security door to your apartment block looked at, love. Anyone can get into the building.’

‘What does that have to do with anything? And how would you know that? Killian, where are you?’ Emma stood up ready to begin pacing again if she didn’t get answers soon.

There was a soft knock on her front door.

‘Is that? Was that? What the hell is going on Killian?’

‘Open the door, love, please.’

Emma dropped her phone onto the bed and ran to the front door. Pulling it open she was stunned to find Killian Jones standing before her, his phone still pressed to his ear and a small suitcase at his feet. Without giving it a second thought Emma dragged him into the apartment, wrapped her arms around him and peppered his face with kisses, causing him to chuckle. The sound brought her back to her senses and she pulled back, punching him hard on the shoulder.

‘That was for worrying me.’

‘Ouch! Okay, I know I deserved that. Talk about a warm welcome. Or at least the part before the violence was warm!’ He smiled nervously and his hand rose up to scratch behind his ear as he rocked back on his heels.

‘How are you here? Actually no, hang on a second, don’t answer that yet!’ Emma pinched her arm, and then rubbed her eyes. ‘Just checking that I am actually awake.’

She looked Killian up and down. He was definitely better looking in the flesh than on her screen. His raven black hair was all disheveled, his eyes a crystalline blue, slightly red rimmed and he looked about as tired as she felt. His stubble ran down his neck, drawing her eyes to the tufts of chest hair poking out the top of his grey henley. His black jeans were tight, and, - no. She stopped herself. Eyes back up - she absolutely wasn’t looking at how well fitting they were.

‘Is it okay that I’m here?’ Killian asked, looking more anxious than she have ever seen him in their hundreds of video calls.

‘Yes, yes, of course. It’s just a surprise you know?’ Emma started walking towards the sitting room, ‘Come on through, take a seat.’ She gestured to the couch in front of them. I’m just going to grab my robe. Be right back.

Dashing to her bedroom, Emma closed the door behind her and leaned back against it. All of her earlier worries had been replaced with deep relief and what might be joy. She had so many questions, but at least Killian was safe and well. And here in her apartment. In Boston. Her best friend was from London was here in Boston in the middle of the night. Oh good grief she’d kissed him. That was going to be awkward to move on from. Taking a deep breath she grabbed her robe, and hoped that it would cover the blush that had crept across her chest in the last five minutes. She looked herself over in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair to try and comb out some of the bed-head tangles, then returned to the living room to her unexpected yet very welcome guest.

As she approached, Killian grinned over at her and patted the couch beside him for her to sit. ‘Has the shock worn off yet, Swan?’

‘Kinda,’ she answered with a hesitant smile, settling herself at the other end of the couch and making sure to keep a gap between them. ‘So are you going to tell me how on earth you are here instead of London?’

He scratched behind his ear again. ‘It was supposed to be a surprise. Which, I guess, it still is. But I promise you, it wasn’t supposed to cause you so much worry in the process.’ Killian started to reach across to touch her arm, but then seemed to think better of it and ran his hand through his hair instead.

Emma inched a little closer and nodded for him to continue.

‘When I called you yesterday afternoon and told you I was in a train station, I was actually just arriving at the airport. I had hoped we could have a full conversation while I was en route to Heathrow and then the next thing you would have known I’d have been arriving at your door sometime around 8.30pm your time.’

‘It’s nearly 3am, you’re more than 6 hours late.’ Emma gasped, ‘I’m guessing the plan derailed then? I have so many questions!’ She pulled her knees up to her chest and leant towards him intrigued.

‘And I will answer them all, but yes the plan went somewhat awry. The weather was awful, and we couldn’t hear each other, so there was no way I could stand outside the airport. I thought that once I had gone through check-in I could call you again from the departure lounge, and then let you know that I’d be out of contact for a few hours.’

‘But you didn’t.’ Emma murmured.

Killian winced. ‘Sadly, no. The incoming storm played havoc with my signal. I had wi-fi for a short while I was still in the concourse but for some reason not at the departure gate, which was how come I only managed to reply to some of your first messages.’

‘Ok, that explains how come you went quiet on me for the first few hours, but that doesn’t account for the missing 6 hours!’ Emma reached across and laid her hand on his knee. ‘I can’t begin to explain how worried I was about you.’

‘I have an inkling, love.’ He put his hand on top of hers, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Their eyes met, Killian’s expression was hopeful and as Emma held his gaze she wondered if he might perhaps be feeling the same way she was. There had to be a reason for him sitting on her couch at this unearthly hour on Christmas morning.

‘So,’ she said putting an end to whatever moment they were having. ‘Those six hours?’

‘Ah yes. The plane was an hour and a half late in boarding. Then there was a problem with the air-conditioning unit, so we had to wait for an engineer to fix it before take off. And then because we had been so delayed already, I guess we had to wait for a new runway slot. We took off nearly four hours later than scheduled in the end.  The flight finally landed around midnight.  It wasn’t until I got on the plane that I realised that both my phone charger and my power bank were packed in my hold luggage rather than my carry on, so even though I would have had signal again when we arrived I still couldn’t get in touch as my battery was completely flat. I wanted to let you know what was happening, I hope you believe that.’

Emma nodded, ‘I do.’ She smiled. ‘That takes up until midnight. There’s still a two hour gap.’

‘I said that we landed at midnight, Swan, I didn’t say we got off the plane then!’ He chuckled. ‘It took another 45 minutes before we could taxi along to the arrival gate. And then there was another delay waiting for backs to be unloaded. When I sent that message after 2, I’d just walked through customs.’

‘Wow, some journey! And I haven’t even offered you a drink. I’m a terrible host.’ She stood up and walked to the kitchen area on the other side the room. I’d offer you coffee but that’s probably not wise at this time of night. Hot chocolate? I might be able to manage tea, I think.’

‘Hot chocolate will be fine, love.’ Killian joined her in the kitchen, watching in amusement as she darted between cupboards and the fridge finding the necessary ingredients, a nervous energy radiating off her. She could feel his eyes boring into her, but she didn’t dare ask her next question, trepidation filling her about what the answer would be.

‘I can hear you thinking, Swan.’

Emma turned to him. ‘It’s just... I know how you got here, but I still don’t know why.’

Killian took a step towards her and reached round to turn the hob off under the milk. Gently he pulled her into his arms and walked them back a couple of steps, away from the stove until they were leaning against the breakfast bar.

‘Do you really not know why?’ Emma shook her head, digging her teeth into her bottom lip as she looked up at him. She swallowed, deciding to take a leap of faith.  

‘I have an idea, but I guess I don’t dare let myself believe it.’

‘Well, love, let me tell you then. When we spoke on Saturday you were so sad that my heart broke for you. All I wanted to do was wrap my arms around you, kiss you and make you feel safe and loved.’

‘So you flew halfway round the world?’

‘So I flew halfway round the world, to spend Christmas with you. It was risky, I know, given that you might not feel as I do.’ Emma’s breath caught as he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear as he spoke. ‘But I realised that Christmas should be spent with the people that mean the most to us, the ones we love. And so here I am.’

‘You love me?’

‘Aye.’ he breathed.

‘Good.’ Emma smiled, tears glistening in her eyes and her heart trying to beat it’s way out of her chest.

Killian stroked his thumb across her cheek and closed the distance between them, pressing his lips softly against hers. As kisses go, Emma thought it might be one of the best in her entire life. It was was perfect, sweet and tender with a promise of more to come.  As they separated, she sighed contentedly.

‘Happy Christmas Swan.’

‘Happy Christmas Jones.’