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tabikato · 4 years

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Chapter 6 of my #DragonAge fanfic is up!! Time for Alistair and Hue to take the tower! It’s an hour or two before Alistair finds their new warden again. They had carried him to one of the tents to sleep off the Joining, the physical stress almost as bad as the mental. However, when he came to check up on him, the elf was nowhere to be found...blankets tossed to the side and weapons gone. A sinking feeling of losing the third one had him rushing out the tent and scouring the area. He really didn't want to deliver this news to Senior Warden. Hey Duncan, so seems we have NO recruits, why? Well, I do believe the third one just took a permanent vacation away from here. The fear was short-lived when he saw the familiar puff of blonde hair...lone figure sitting rather still as if he’d find some answers in the dancing embers and ash of the campfire. Hue heard the footsteps from behind but didn’t bother to turn around...didn’t feel a need or want to face the other at this moment.

“There you are, thought you made a run for it.” Alistair’s head dropped as soon as he'd stopped talking, really great choice of words there. Solid.

“Would have just killed me like you did Jory.” There was no anger or spite in his tone, only resignation...as if those were merely facts of life and he had come to term with them. It didn’t feel right to hear such a desolate tone from the usually high-energy elf but Alistair supposes the situation was a heavy one. After all...Hue wasn’t entirely wrong so there wasn’t any way the human could dispute those words.

“We lost one in my Joining as well, it was horrible. I doubt I will ever get used to it”, Hue looked sideways as Alistair sat next to him, voice whispering with somber tints, “I’m glad at least one of you made it through.” Brown met red as they looked at each other for a moment, Hue rolling this information around in his head. The Joining was secret because not many people would willingly give up their lives for a chance...yet Gray Wardens are needed to stop the Blight or else everyone dies. Even knowing that he knew, deep down, not many people would see the sacrifice as necessary. Death is scary...dying is scary, he joined in order to escape death and only went through with it because no matter his outcome there would always be death. It didn’t seem fair to anyone involved...but then he thinks of Daveth who was not dying and willingly drank from that cup, knowing his sacrifice meant the world. Of Alistair who also drank, a chance he might die but taking that plunge.

This was making his head hurt.

“I don’t like thinking too much on this complicated stuff”, Hue finally spoke up, piecing together the thoughts he needed to say, “and I don’t think it’s fair but...I know Gray Wardens save people. They sacrifice so they can so I don’t think you guys are bad people. And now I can protect people too.” Blowing some strands of his hair from his face, he turns to glance at the other Warden. Alistair looked in thought but nodded, seeming to accept Hue’s decision.

“I’m glad you’re here to stay with us.”

“So you’re not the junior anymore? Or you’d be lonely?” Barely a beat passed before a smirk made its way onto the elf’s face, lightly punching the human in the arm.

“First off, ow. Second, OW. Why are you always aiming where it hurts?”

“You’re a really big target”, Alistair looked as if he was going to pout, mouth open to remind Hue who was in charge here but...the one who was in charge spoke up to them.

“Alistair. Hue. The King wishes to speak with us, come to the war table when you are able.” Duncan’s voice knocked their jovialness back in line, both men sitting straight up and replying with a “yes, sir”. Watching the older man walk off, Hue stood up to join Duncan before Alistair stopped him.

“Wait. Here…”, he held out a simple pendant; dirty gold with a reddish hue in the open glass and placed it in Hue’s hand, “ we take some of the blood and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us...of those who didn’t make it this far.” Gently he pulls out a similar one from inside his own armor and Hue's eyes widened before he nodded.

“Gotcha.” Slipping it over his head, he buried it within his shirt, cold metal burning into skin with the reminder that his heart was beating. He was still alive.

Odd. That’s about all he could describe that meeting with the King and the man named Loghain. Supposedly they were family...King’s wife being his daughter or something, it didn’t really matter to him. What was odd was how much disdain the two had for each other and neither kept it a secret. Yet nobody said anything about it, ignoring it like it was a mild breeze tossing through their hair. In his clan things were settled if there were disputes, whether by the Keeper or by one of their laws. Everyone was family in a way and they all had to cooperate to survive, to keep the clan running, so petty squabbles disrupting the order were very much frowned upon.

So why did they have to suffer through this? Duncan and Alistair seemed quite used to ignoring it so Hue surmised this was definitely a human thing. Were humans always this petty? Well...okay, maybe not all the humans he met were but some of them had made it really far on the list. Thinking back to the meeting it was also odd that Hue and Alistair were even there; they were juniors and weren’t in any sort of decision-making position. This idea seemed to be shared with Loghain and despite the man’s rather unpleasant scowl, Hue couldn’t help but think he made some fair points. Normally you would not have the clan’s leader out in front, one wrong move and their death was too great of a loss. The Gray Wardens made more sense to fight the darkspawn head on, with the armies as support, but the King refused to listen, wanting to play hero with them.

What an idiot. Oh, they’re arguing again...this is boring.

“They are, your majesty.” Duncan’s voice knocked him out of his self-inflicted daze, noticing that both he and Alistair were being addressed now.

“And this is the recruit I met earlier on the road? I understand congratulations are in order.” Congratulations? Hue squints a little, mouth forming a thin line as he tries to digest those words. The King stood there, waiting for an answer with a stupid smile on his face and Hue almost considered telling him where he could stuff that congratulations until Duncan cleared his throat. Fine.

“Not sure what for? I’m not special.” And he wasn’t, in his mind. True he managed to pass the Joining which apparently did make something special out of him but managing to stay alive when two others died didn’t seem like a skill to him. That was pure luck and luck, to him, didn’t make him special or feel favoured in any way.

“Oh, but you are. Every Gray Warden is needed now more than ever.” Cailin’s puffed up pride was quickly cut down by Loghain. Good thing too because neither man noticed Hue quietly mocking those words which caused a rather funny snort to come from Alistair’s throat.

“Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailin”, the old man didn’t even hide his annoyance, scolding the King right in his face, “We must attend to reality!”

“Fine. Speak your strategy. The Gray Wardens and I draw the darkspawn into charging our lines and then…?”

“You will alert the tower to light the beacon, signaling my men to charge from cover.” Silver and Gold flinted in the candlelight surrounding the map as both men leaned in, metal fingers drawing paths along the lines and symbols. So...they were going to be on the front line, huh? Hue could use a dagger but he worked better with his bow, were there any high spots out in front? Some of the stone facings could be climbed and he’d have enough height for his shots, that way he could cover Duncan, Alistair, and the rest.

“Then we should send our best. Send Alistair and the new Gray Warden to make sure it’s done.” Wait...what? Blinking, he stared back over at the armored men. What were he and Alistair supposedly doing now? Lighting a tower?

“You mean we won’t be fighting in the battle?” His mouth moved on its own, brows creased as he realised exactly what this meant. Should have known...the bottom of the group is always made into errand boys.

“We need the beacon. Without it, Loghain’s men won’t know when to charge.” He really wanted to argue that lighting a stupid fire wasn’t what he signed himself up for but then remembered he didn’t exactly sign up in the first place. Oh, whatever. There’d be plenty more darkspawn to fight later he’s sure of it.

“You see? Glory for everyone!” Considering he didn’t want to become a pincushion he kept the thought of wiping that dumb smile off this human’s face to himself. Loghain started in on the King again...Duncan tried to intervene but was shot down by them both and oh look, more humans coming to the argue party. Why is it such a hard concept for them all to work together? Darkspawn or Archdemon, it won’t care who it kills only that it kills and they’re going to make it easier for them to kill if everyone is running around like agitated chickens. No wonder the other hunters always called humans a rightful mess, how do they even manage to get anything done with all this bickering?

“Enough!” Oh finally. “This plan will suffice. The Gray Wardens will light the beacon.” Loghain’s dark eyes met with Hue’s red, the elf staring back with no readable emotion. The old man took this as his cue to turn and leave.

“Thank you, Loghain. I cannot wait for that glorious moment! The Gray Wardens battle beside the King of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil!” Cailin’s head tilted up in pride, chest puffed out as much as one could in heavy armor.

“Yes, Cailan. A glorious moment for us all.”

“You heard the plan. You and Alistair will go to the Tower of Ishal and ensure the beacon is lit.” Back at the bonfire Duncan reiterated the plan, pointing to both men to ensure they heard it well. These two as individuals tend to run on the reckless side but both together, alone, as a team. Duncan wasn’t sure what the outcome would be but he knew they’d at least follow his orders. Of course he expected them both to complain about it considering their personalities.

“So he needs two Gray Wardens standing up there holding the torch. Just in case, right?” There was no hiding the sarcasm in Alistair’s voice. He crossed his arms, cocking a brow in visible annoyance.

“Like he said, we’re better off being in battle! Not babysitting a torch!”

“That is not your choice!” Hue's mouth snapped shut as Duncan’s voice grew firmer, “If King Cailan wishes Gray Wardens to ensure the beacon is lit, then Gray Wardens will be there. We must do whatever it takes to destroy the darkspawn...exciting or no.” Hue wanted to argue the fact that Cailan was no king of his and Gray Wardens should be fighting darkspawn, not falling in line to the whims of royalty.

“I get it. I get it. Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I’m drawing the line. Darkspawn or no.” Indignant reply forgotten, Hue snorted out a laugh at Alistair’s dry delivery.

“Dunno, that’d be a great distraction.”

“Me shimmying down the darkspawn line? Sure, we could kill them while they roll around laughing.” Duncan sighed as these two laughed at this ridiculous idea, letting them have a moment to get it out of their system.

“Who says they wouldn’t find you charming?” Hue’s laugh went louder as Alistair huffed out a mixture of disgust at the notion and laughter at how stupid it was.

“Do you think I’d look fetching enough?”

“Why not? Go for a red dress though.”

“Are you two quite done?” Both looked away from each other, like two children being scolded, trying to stifle the grins that refuse to leave their faces and Duncan just sighs once more. “The Tower is on the other side of the gorge from the King’s camp, the way we came when we arrived. We will signal you when the time is right. Alistair will know what to look for. Do not leave this task to join the battle, this is of the utmost importance and I am trusting you two.” With that last bit both men stood up a little straighter, their focus more serious. Seems they were willing to prove they were worthy of that trust.

“What if the Archdemon appears?”

“We soil our drawers, that’s what.” Alistair couldn’t help himself and both men almost fell into laughter again before Duncan's sharp look halted them.

“If it does, leave it to us. I want no heroics from either of you.”

“Never. Heroics is what the King does.” Rubbing his temples, he lets Hue have this one before continuing with his instructions. Alistair only raised an eyebrow on that, thinking to ask Hue later why he was so...aggressive in his speech towards the King. The elf certainly didn’t take that tone with either him or Duncan so maybe something was said...done? Nothing came to mind however.

“There will be plenty of battles for both of you later”, Duncan added on, crossing his arms, he looked over his two juniors, “I must join the others. From here, you two are on your own. Remember, you are both Gray Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of that title.” With a nod he walked down towards his troops, that nagging feeling he has felt for weeks never leaving him but they would be prepared...they had to be. Watching the older man leave, Hue looked from Duncan’s back to the skyline and to the silhouette of the tower they would soon be climbing.

“Well then…”, Alistair’s voice broke through his thoughts, “let’s get on our dancing shoes and go put on a show.” Patting the elf on the back, their grins grew once more as they began their preparations.

Sheer chaos were the only words Hue could think of to perfectly describe the scenes flitting past him. Alistair and him couldn’t stop, running across the bridge and dodging fallen soldiers and rocks smashing against the stone surface. Screams shattered through the sounds of explosions and rock, through the roar of the crowd below and fire engulfing the unlucky bodies of targets found. Adrenaline surged in his veins, letting him make it through the narrow run of the bridge and up into the courtyard where they met with some of Cailan’s men and...darkspawn.

“Darkspawn have taken the tower!”

“How?!”, he could hear Alistair’s shout over the clanging of swords and the tearing of flesh, another creature fell to his blade. One of Hue's arrows sunk deep into the open throat of one charging at them, crumpling to the ground in a heap.

“They flooded in and took the lower chambers!”

“Then we have to get to the beacon and light it ourselves!” With a plan set in motion, they fought their way to the entrance of the tower, not stopping to look back even once. Each floor was filled with them, with traps that Hue disarmed in a blink of an eye and soon a path of red followed. At some point he couldn’t tell if the red was from human or darkspawn and really, he’d rather not think about it. The smell itself was a bit distracting but even more so was that the further they went up, the stronger it was instead of less.

“We won? Yay, we won, haha..ow...ow, yay…”, Alistair piped up behind him as they slayed yet another room of creatures with their two nameless companions. His strained cheers were left unanswered, noticing the elf was far too focused on the large doors up the stairs, nose scrunched up in a worried look. “Hue?”

“Why are we fighting more the higher we go?” Eyes went wide with realization, the number of bodies indeed looked way too numerous for how much they’ve climbed.

“Maker’s breath...what are they doing here?”, sheathing his sword he walked up to his companion, stepping over a few shredded corpses in the process, “There wasn’t supposed to be any resistance here!”

“You could try telling them they’re in the wrong place.”

“Right. Because clearly this is all just a misunderstanding. We’ll laugh about this later.” An elbow on his arm made Hue turn, seeing the serious look on the other’s face, “At any rate, we need to hurry! We need to get up to the top of the tower and light the signal fire in time! Teyrn Loghain is waiting!” No disagreement there. Nodding, he makes his way up the stairs, throwing the doors open as they stumble into yet another battle.

Even with his usual stamina Hue was definitely feeling the strain with each wave hitting them harder than the last. What was probably only minutes seemed like an eternity as body after body fell to either his arrows or Alistair’s sword. At least in the midst of this mess the two managed to create some sort of unspoken team work, flawlessly watching the other’s back. No praise or congratulations were to be had though, they had to keep pushing...up until the last door of the tower in which they wasted no time marching through.

Which, Hue would think later on, was probably the worst idea they had all night as they came face to face with a gigantic monster. Hearing their approach, it stopped it’s feast on whatever unlucky corpse it had killed and turned to face them. Horns gnarled and twisting reached to the heavens, skin a sickly gray as it stretched over muscles that seemed to want to burst forth. It’s face was cracked and rough like the bark of an old tree with pearl-colored eyes sunk deep in the sockets. However Hue noticed something far worse about this enormous monstrosity, the large mouth of jagged teeth as it’s roar shook them all to their core. What little armor it had on did nothing to make it less frightening...those teeth and claws more than made up for it.

Jumping back, Hue let loose a few arrows into its chest once it rushed them, grabbing the other warrior that stood beside Alistair in it's giant grip. They could only watch as the human was picked up like a doll, shaken in that clenching fist before another punched him repeatedly. Alistair charged with his sword, swiping at its back and legs but the skin was like rough leather. He wasn’t sure how much damage he was even doing, if he was at all. Throwing the poor swordsman to the side, body skidding across the floor in a lifeless lump, it turned its attention to Alistair who luckily enough managed to jump out of the way. The weariness that had settled in his bones had been replaced, now fear and rage were driving his body, reflexes heightened as he took every vital shot he could get.

Between the arrows, sword, and magic, the beast started to falter. The perfect opportunity presenting itself when its massive body stumbled back, throwing its arms wide open. Hue took it, pulling out his dagger and running up its body to stab it right in the eye. Spit sprayed in his face as it roared, thrashing around with pain but he held on to whatever he could, stabbing into the other eye with a sickening squish. No longer did the beast thrash, instead he could hear the life drain from its throat and crash backwards to the floor. The impact threw him off, rolling him along the smooth stone as blood and spit smeared across his armor and skin. Alistair’s hand grabbed his arm, hoisting him up, panting breaths filling the now silent room before they suddenly remembered why they were even there.

“The beacon!” Both came to the same thought and rushed over, Alistair grabbing the nearby torch and throwing it into the fireplace. Instantly the fire grew and grew, spewing up the chute in a bright column before their very eyes. Thank the gods, they had made it...somehow and now Loghain’s army could move in to turn the tide.

Their muscles only had mere moments to relax before the door burst open but instead of soldiers, darkspawn flooded into the room in a massive hoard. Arrows flew at them, catching them both off guard and he cried out in pain when one embedded itself into his shoulder. Fighting it, he shot off a few of his own but there were too many...too much stamina lost as his muscles felt like liquid at this point. Alistair’s body being thrown across the room distracted him, another arrow sinking into his flesh. Struggle as he might, he ended up on his back, vision blurring, his companion's name a cracked whisper on his lips. Hand reaching out, fingers shakingly clawing at the cool stone. The unholy cacophony of growls and metal sliding against metal drummed through his brain, threatening to swallow him whole. A roar vibrated through his very being...another monster? He was fading too fast to even know, only one thought screaming in his mind through all the noise.

Creators, please don’t let another friend die.

#Dragon Age Origins #Dragon Age #Alistair Theirin #warden mahariel #fanfic #original character #OC #Hue

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let-it-raines · 5 years

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Rising from the Ashes (17/?)

When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones.

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Remember that thing I said about a happy ending? They’re (and you guys) are getting one💜

Soon! I’m sorry to those I mislead! I didn’t realize that. Oops. They’re getting one when the story is over, I promise 😘

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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“How does that make you feel?”

She cuts her head to look at Dr. Lawrence and the way she’s tapping her pencil against her notebook, the one where she most likely writes down “Emma Swan is crazy” over and over again. It’s what she would write down if she were her own therapist because damn, sometimes she is crazy.

“Isn’t that a little cliché to ask me how that makes me feel?”

She sighs, her shoulders heaving the slightest bit, and she rolls her eyes. She likes Dr. Lawrence. She really does, but sometimes all she wants to do is take that notebook and rip it into pieces. She’s been coming here for two months now, since late February, and April isn’t bringing her any new revelations. Not that she thought therapy would. She just wanted to talk to someone else who wasn’t so emotionally invested in her life, to talk to someone who won’t get hurt by the things she has to say. They’re not all great, and she’s only a little ashamed by that. That’s what she’s supposed to be working on though.

“It is, yes, but I think it’s a legitimate question to ask when you’ve been circling around saying that it bothers you that Killian hasn’t proposed yet.”

Her lips press together in a firm line, a sour feeling settling in her stomach and making it twist into something that has to be unnatural. Feeling this way has to be unnatural. “I did not say that.”

“Not in those words, but you did.”

She sighs again, unable not to, before falling back on the couch and rubbing at her eyes, most likely making her mascara run and create some kind of weird, smoky eye raccoon look. This is a really uncomfortable couch, the cushions almost like rocks. Shouldn’t the thing be more comfortable? Aren’t people supposed to feel comfortable in here? That’s a thing, right?

“I’m not,” she starts, not really sure where the words are going as she uncovers her eyes and looks up at the paneled ceiling. They should do that in the living room. It’d look nice. “I’m not upset that Killian hasn’t proposed. Us getting married has never been a top priority for us, you know? We love each other, and a piece of paper and a diamond ring isn’t going to make us love each other more.”

“But it is more of a commitment.”

“Technically, yeah. With the whole legal aspect and all. I don’t – I don’t know. I want to marry Killian. I really, really do. And I know he wants to marry me. He’s had a fucking ring for at least five months now, had to have had it for a few months before that, and he’s never asked me.”

“You’ve had a lot going on.”

She chuckles darkly, her stomach untwisting and sending that unpleasant feeling to her throat so that she feels like she could vomit all over the hardwood floor in here. That would probably be an extra fee that insurance doesn’t cover. “What? You mean like my dead ex-husband coming back from the dead, having to explain to him ‘hey honey, I moved on from you and am in love with your friend and can’t make you happy like that anymore. By the way, I realized most of our marriage was shit, but I can’t harbor any resentment toward you because you’re a hero and the father of our kid and have been through more bad things than I thought possible. Plus, you know, I did love you at one point and you’re a nicer guy now.’”

She finishes her words on a long breath, her shoulders releasing some of their tension, before she twists her head to the side and looks at Dr. Lawrence furiously scribbling notes down. Great, she’s probably going to get put into a mental institution now. Can her therapist do that?

Probably not.

God, she has got to get a grip.

And stop on the way home and get something for dinner so her mom isn’t forced to feed her when she picks Henry and Ada up from her house. Killian’s working late on some project with Robin that she cannot wait to be over. She swears that it’s aging him by ten years some days. He’s always so tired and stressed. Sometimes she wonders if he needs a new job, one that’s less stressful and reminds him less of his time in the Navy, but whenever she brings it up, he always says that he’s happy there and that the money is good. She believes him, but it doesn’t keep her from worrying about him and wanting to work on the stress that’s in his shoulders and between his brows.

Dr. Lawrence still doesn’t say anything, and for some reason this bothers her enough to make her keep going, to keep rambling.

“And I guess…things have calmed down now. It was like I was walking a tightrope for a long time, and I wasn’t allowed to trip or fall, you know? Because if I did, things fell apart. I had to be strong for Henry and for Ada. I had to be strong for Neal too. And Killian, even when we were going through that…even when we were going through that rough patch. But I failed, you know? I felt so lost and helpless. Sometimes I felt worthless, which is not an uncommon feeling for me but recently, it wasn’t a usual one. It took me a long time to get over Neal’s death, to get over being abandoned again, and Killian just made me feel so – he made me feel solid. Happy. Good. He was there for me when I felt like I had no one. He listened to me cry over my husband’s death. He listened to me cry over raising a baby alone. He listened to me. And he let me be me, which was something I didn’t have a lot.”

She smiles to herself thinking of it all, of all of the times Killian has been there with her and for her throughout the years, all the way back to them meeting in Oceania and him making her laugh. He’s always making her laugh.

“He’s my best friend on this planet. I can be myself when I’m with him, and he has held my hand through the shitstorm that have been parts of my life, even when I didn’t want to let him. I love him, you know? And I’m badass, by the way. Just thought that needed to be said. I’m badass and totally could have made it on my own, but Killian…with him I get to be strong and independent while also having that hand holding mine for comfort and support. He’s made my life so much better. He’s given me Ada, and really, he’s given me Henry too. So, yeah, I guess I am bothered by the fact that he hasn’t proposed yet. I’m worried that maybe he’s changed his mind again. I shouldn’t really. I know he loves me. He doesn’t let me doubt that. I just…I want to be with him fully. Hell, I want me to not have a different last name than both of my children. I want to marry him, and yeah, a part of me is worried that he doesn’t want to marry me, that everything with Neal has made our entire relationship be altered.”

Once the words are out, she knows that she can’t take them back. She doesn’t want to take them back. This is…this is her life and her emotions and she needs to feel them. It feels really good to say all of that, and honestly, she wants to say more. She wants to talk more about Killian and more about Neal. She wants to go back to what they were talking about last week and how Neal’s moving has affected everyone, especially Henry. She wants to talk about how terrified she is being a parent and putting her kids in such stressful, life changing situations.

She wants to talk.

But the clock on the wall says she only has ten minutes left, and she figures that Dr. Lawrence has to have something to say or else she’s been writing on that notepad for nothing.

She reaches up to wipe her eyes, to wipe away the tears that have been furiously falling without her permission before her hand lands on her pendant. She’s going to have to make herself look less puffy. She doesn’t even remember when she started crying.

“I think Neal coming back has altered your relationship,” Dr. Lawrence begins, and Emma sits up on the couch, straightening out her shirt and her back as she sniffles. “How could it not? Besides the emotional trauma and joy of having him be found alive, it’s completely changed your life. You and Killian are no longer parents to Henry alone. You share that responsibility even if the two of you carry the load. Your ex-husband is no longer a dead man. He’s a real human being with thoughts and feelings that aren’t always going to be perfect, so you have to adjust to that too. For as much change as you’ve been going through, Killian has been going through something too. You have to give him the emotional time to adjust as well because while I don’t know the man, I do know that he cares about you and is probably putting your feelings above his.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe Killian thinks that you’re not ready yet, that he thought you were still going through too much emotional upheaval until you two talked about it a bit – ” she looks down at her notebook, eyes seemingly searching for something “ – two weeks ago.”

Ah, so maybe she does actually pay attention.

“Does that really count as talking, though? I literally just hinted around at it.”

She smiles. “But it’s a start.”

-/-

“Henry, you have got to put your shin guards on so that we can go.”

“I can’t find them,” he shouts back over the railing.

“Of course you can’t,” she mutters to herself, rolling her eyes a bit as she looks down at Ada who is currently banging her hands against the wall and giggling to herself. Kids are so damn weird sometimes. She doesn’t understand what the purpose of banging her hands against the wall is, but if she’s about to have to go upstairs and help Henry find the rest of his soccer uniform, she can’t leave her down here by herself despite how much baby proofing they’ve done.

Her entire house is metaphorically wrapped in bubble wrap, and Ada still manages to find ways to nearly kill herself just by exploring.

This is terrifying.

How is Killian not back from his run and the grocery store yet? He’s already supposed to be here so they can go to the fields together like they’ve done every Saturday this spring. He already missed their usual breakfast, so he really needs to show up soon. Maybe he’s stuck in traffic or there was some kind of freak watermelon accident and there are watermelon all over the road. Or maybe he ran into someone he knows. She doesn’t know, and even though she really shouldn’t be angry at him right now, she’s had a bad morning and needs him.

And she misses him. He’s here, always right here, but he’s felt so distant lately, so far away. She felt so good after her therapy appointment on Tuesday, like she was ready to talk to him and finally fix things and have all of her emotions centered, but she’s barely gotten a chance to talk to him in the three days since. Both of their jobs have been busy, the kids have been insane, and then she had to deal with Neal cancelling his trip into town this weekend. She understands, really, but Henry understanding is different. He misses his dad, and if the hour long phone call last night is any indication, Neal misses Henry too.

Her life is a constant ebb and flow of being all together and all falling apart.

No, her life is good. She’s just been stressed the past few days. That’s all.

“Come on, bug,” she sighs, stepping toward Ada and picking her up, wondering when in the world this kid got so heavy. Ada lets out what has to be an actual, blood curdling scream and starts thrashing around while Emma carries her up the stairs. “Ada, shhh, it’s okay. We’re just going upstairs. You don’t have to have a meltdown.”

That somehow only makes things worse, the cries going up another decibel, and she resigns herself to this as she walks down the hallway into Henry’s room. There are clothes scattered everywhere, his notebooks spread across the floor. When in the world did his room get to be such a mess? He has to clean that tonight or tomorrow. It cannot stay like this.

“I can’t find them,” he whines again, tossing a pair of shoes out of his closet, the pair of converses landing on one of his books.

“Have you checked in your bag?”

“That’s the first place I looked.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he shouts, coming out past the doorway and running his hands through his hair, yanking at the brown strands. “Why is Ada so loud? Make her stop.”

“I’m trying, kid.”

“Try harder.”

“Hey, no,” she says sternly, trying not to yell to escalate the situation, “you do not get to tell me what to do, especially not being loud and harsh like that. I understand that you are upset and can’t find your shin guards and that your sister is being really loud. I get that. I don’t like it either, but yelling isn’t going to solve any of our problems.”

“Ada is yelling.”

“Henry,” she sighs while Ada lets out another loud cry. Shit, this is not a good day. It’s not even ten in the morning yet. “Ada is a baby. She can’t really talk. You know this. I’m going to text your dad and ask if he knows where your stuff is.”

“How would my dad know if he doesn’t live here anymore?”

Her stomach drops for a moment before she realizes that she used the wrong term for Killian. It’s usually not confusing, but sometimes it’s so easy to slip up like that.

“Your daddy,” she corrects. “I’m going to text your daddy.”

“Killian is not my daddy. He’s my step dad.”

Her stomach really does drop then, a heavy anchor weighing her down and making it nearly impossible for her legs to stay steady and her arms to stay strong against a still wailing Ada, even if her cries are beginning to calm down. What did…what did Henry just say?

Why did he just say that Killian isn’t his daddy? She knew that sooner or later he’d feel too old to call Killian his daddy, that he wouldn’t always call him by the name he started calling him when he was five, but he’s not supposed to be calling Killian his step dad. Yeah, that’s pretty much what he is, technically, but that’s also not what he is. He’s his dad. He’s the man who raised him, and Henry should never think otherwise when that used to be all he knew.

“Where did you learn that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Henry.”

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest while his lips curl downward. Does she have the most dramatic kid in the world? Probably not. But he seems to be going for that title today. She’s just waiting for him to start crying or throwing things. Or hopefully not throwing things. That would be a disaster.

This day is kind of a disaster.

At least she hasn’t gotten to the point where she has to take away Henry’s games yet.

“My dad told me that’s what Killian is.”

Motherfucking hell.

She’s going to start crying.

And throw something.

Maybe throw Neal. Definitely throw Neal. He’s bigger than her and hundreds of miles away, but she could get it done. She could. Absolutely. All of those stories about mothers raging to protect their children – one of those is going to come true after she figures out what the hell is going on. Neal wouldn’t have told Henry that. He wouldn’t have. But then why would Henry have said that? He obviously knew he wasn’t supposed to tell her before she pushed him into saying it, so he was probably trying to protect his dad.

But why would Neal have told Henry that in the first place when they explicitly told him over and over again that this is how their family situation works?

It must be some kind of misunderstanding. It has to be. Neal wouldn’t do that, and if he did, it has to be a mistake, a slip of the tongue. She’ll call him later and get it all straightened up. It’ll be fine. Right now she really just has to focus on Henry and this situation and getting him to his soccer game.

Swallowing the gulp caught in her throat, she puts Ada on the ground, figuring that’s probably all that she wants to stop this crying, and squats down so that she’s at eye level with Henry, reaching up to brush his hair off of his forehead while he stares at her with those watery chocolate brown eyes.

“Kid,” she whispers quietly, curving her lips into a small, hopefully reassuring smile while she keeps pushing his hair back, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

Henry nods his head up and down, his little shoulders heaving while Ada has managed to make her way to Henry’s bed and is holding herself up on it. At least she’s not banging on the door.

“Killian is your daddy. You can call him Dad if you want to, if you feel too old to be calling him Daddy. That’s okay. You are a very special kid, and like I’ve told you before, you get to be lucky enough to have two dads who love you and care for you more than anything in the world. Not every kid gets that like you do.”

“But Dad told me when we were on the phone that Kil – that my daddy is my step dad. Like how Ella has a step mom.”

She doesn’t know how to explain this. It was easier when Neal was dead, which is a horrible thing to think. But Henry understood it much more easily then. He embraced it more. Now he’s older, though, and has an entirely different situation for his life.

She wishes Killian were here. He’d help and know what to do and know what to say despite the fact that this would break his heart even more than it’s breaking hers.

“It’s…it’s grown up things. I,” she sighs, running her free hand through her hair and trying to think while her thighs begin to ache from this position. “You know how when we told you about Ada being born, we told you it was because Mommy and Daddy loved each other and that helped to make her?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, back when your dad and I were married, we loved each other and made you so that we could love you.”

“I know.”

She smiles at him again, making sure that her eyes don’t leave his except to glance over to Ada as she plops down on the ground and starts messing with some of Henry’s books. Thank God she’s stopped crying. That was miserable. Her entire life was about to implode in the span of five minutes.

“But then your dad disappeared, and I didn’t have him to help me love you or me anymore. But your daddy came along and he fell in love with me and with you. And he was around to help you learn how to walk and talk, just like he is with Ada. He took you to the pool to go swimming and to the playground. He went to all of your school plays and all of your birthday parties. He tucked you into your bed at night and read you stories, and he’s spent so much time loving you and me and your sister that I don’t think we can even imagine how much he loves us.”

Henry nods his head, and she desperately hopes that he understands. She doesn’t understand how to explain this without scarring Henry for life about sex when he is so not ready for that. She knows that some parents are fully open with their kids about things like that, but it’s not her parenting style.

“So he and my dad are the same?”

“Y-yeah,” she sputters, knowing that she needs to attack this conversation with a better plan later but thankful that things have seemed to calm down. “They’re the same. They’re both your dads, and they both love you so much that I bet your arms don’t even stretch out that far.”

Henry sticks out his arms to test the theory out, and she can’t help but chuckle at that. He has such childlike innocence and faith for someone who keeps having his life changed and uprooted, and even though she still feels like a frayed wire right now, she knows that she has a set of good kids in her life.

Leaning forward, she wraps Henry up in a hug and holds him as tightly as she can without smothering him. He hugs her right back, and she feels a little of the lead that’s in her stomach dissipate.

“Come on,” she says as she pulls back, “we’ve got some shin guards to find and a soccer game to go to.”

They find the shin guards in the kitchen of all places, and even though they have to practically sprint across the fields to get to his match, they make it in time. She knows a lot of the other parents there, a lot of them have kids in Henry’s class, but she prefers to sit under this tree in the shade with Ada. It’s at the corner of the field, so she still has a clear shot of Henry and he does of them.

Emma: Where are you?

Emma: We’re already at the fields. Hope you get here soon!

Emma: We’ve had quite the morning. Can’t wait to tell you about it later.

She puts her phone down on the blanket and pulls Ada back to her so that she can adjust her hat on her head, making sure she’s totally shaded while she slathers more lotion on her.

“Mama,” Ada babbles, grabbing at her necklace with enough force that she could snap it. Emma has to immediately grab Ada’s hand and move it away before twisting the necklace around so that Ada can’t see the diamonds. “Mama. Mama. Mama.”

“What?” she laughs, scrunching her nose up when Ada tries to grab at it too. “Baby, you’re driving me crazy today. Nothing makes you happy, and you’re going to either rip my nose off or break the necklace your daddy gave me.”

Ada giggles at that, like it’s the funniest thing in the world, and Emma can do nothing more than shake her head as she continues to get Ada’s arms with lotion. She’s wearing a United jersey with Jones written across it that Killian got her. He’s so extra sometimes, and this is a prime example of it.

She kind of loves that.

Plopping Ada down on the blanket in front of her, she snaps a picture of her back with the soccer field in front of her, and sends it off to Killian, hoping that he’ll answer this one since he hasn’t answered any of her other texts and calls. She’s trying to ignore that and convince herself that it’s fine, but there’s this weird, sinking feeling that’s stayed with her all day. Maybe it’s the stress, or maybe it’s something else entirely.

Emma: Henry’s number one fan!

The rest of Henry’s game (or is it match? She’s really not sure.) goes by pretty quickly. He’s at the age where the kids are actually pretty competitive, so it’s not so much all of them running around and kicking balls in the wrong goal as it is them legitimately trying to win the game. Not quite as cute as it used to be, but Henry likes it. That’s all that really matters.

“Did you see me kick that goal?” Henry gasps when he runs over to her after the game, his hair covered in sweat and grass stains covering his knees. “It was awesome.”

“It was awesome,” she agrees, holding her hand up for him to high five him before holding Ada’s hand up so that she can do the same, even if it’s not with quite the same impact.

“Where’s Daddy?”

“He got called into work,” she lies, not too sure how to handle this situation. That seems to be happening a lot lately. “He’ll be home later, though.”

The smile that was on Henry’s face instantly fades, the upward curl twisting down. “He didn’t see my game?”

“No, kid. He didn’t. But he wanted to.”

“He promised that he’d come to all of my games.”

“I know,” she laments, bringing him into her side. Poor kid. Both of his dads have bailed on him this weekend, and she knows that if it’s just today, it won’t mess with him too badly. But if it’s…if it keeps happening, well, it can’t keep happening. She won’t let it keep happening. “But sometimes things happen that make us break our promises. I’m sure your daddy is so sad about not getting to see you score that goal.”

“Yeah,” Henry sighs, his shoulders sagging forward as she starts to pick up all of their stuff so they can walk to the car.

It doesn’t take long even navigating through all of the kids and parents, and soon enough she’s driving out of the soccer complex and on her way home with the kids so that Henry can get showered and Ada can take her early afternoon nap. The music cuts off in the car as a phone call comes in, and she hits the button on her steering wheel to accept Neal’s call, leaving it on speaker since he’s probably calling for Henry anyways. Good. If he can’t fly home this weekend because of work then at least Henry will have this.

“Hey, Neal,” she greets, pulling up to a stop light and inching closer to the car in front of her.

“Hey, Ems. How are you?”

“Good, good. We’re on our way home from Henry’s soccer game. Kid, why don’t you tell your dad what you did today?”

“I scored a goal,” Henry shouts from the backseat, his voice far too loud. “It was really cool. Avery kicked the ball to me, and I kicked it right past the Dragons’ goalie. She couldn’t stop me.”

“That’s awesome,” Neal laughs. She can practically imagine the smile on his face, and it makes something in her heart settle thinking of how much Neal is here for Henry even when he’s physically away.

-/-

“Come on, Emma, push.”

“I can’t,” she cries, holding onto the handrails over the bed while a contraction roars through her body, making all of her limbs shake as she feels herself shutting down, feels her will to keep going fading. “I can’t do this by myself.”

“I am right here, Hon,” one of her nurses soothes, holding onto her hand even though Emma doesn’t know her name. She should know her name. She’s the woman who is by her side while she delivers her son. If she’s the only one going to be here, Emma should know her name. It’s too painful to ask. “You’re doing just great. So is your baby. His heartbeat is so strong, yeah. He gets that from you.”

“He’s okay? He’s still doing okay? This isn’t – this isn’t hurting him, ah, too much?”

Her nurse squeezes her hand, holding on tightly as she watches people move between her legs. She’s officially had her vagina stared at by more people than she ever thought would stare at it, and even though she doesn’t want to think about that and what’s happening right now, it’s all that she can focus on.

If she doesn’t, she’ll think about Neal.

He should be here.

He should be here holding her hand and helping her through this.

He should be here to hold his son when he’s born.

He should be here.

But he’s not. He can’t help it. He’s training. This is what he has to do. This is his job. He’s helping so many other people, and that’s what she has to remind herself. That’s what she has to keep repeating over and over again as she suffers through labor. Why did no one tell her how much this hurts? They did, but it was in broad terms. It wasn’t like this. It was never described like this. Everyone always glossed over it and told her that it would be all over and she’d have her baby in her arms and that everything would be okay.

How is this okay?

How is any of this fucking okay?

She’s by herself.

She’s alone and has no one here but this nurse who she still doesn’t know the name of to help her. Neal isn’t here. Ruth isn’t here. Neither is David. Or Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret would be good at helping here. She’s been through this. She’s so soothing even when she’s annoying and pushing all of her opinions on Emma.

She doesn’t even have any friends here. All of her friends are mostly Neal’s friends, and she doesn’t know any of them well enough to ask them to be here.

Why didn’t she make more friends? Why didn’t she keep some of hers from freshman year? She had friends, didn’t she? She had people she talked to and got lunch with. She knows that she did. She had to.

She’s been alone for so much of her life, but right here, right now, is the last place she ever thought she would be alone.

She can’t do this. She can’t. It’s too much.

Maybe she’s not meant to be a mother.

She can’t be one.

How could she when she didn’t have one for most of her life?

“I can’t be a mother,” she cries, tears stinging hotly behind her eyes while her contraction begins to wane. She knows it’s only a brief moment of reprieve. Her son is almost here. She knows that he is, that has to be. She’s been suffering in here for too long for him not to be here soon. She needs him to be here. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, Sweetie,” the nurse promises her, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles. Neal always does that, and it’s so damn soothing. She misses him. He should be here. She can’t stop thinking that. He should be here. “You can be a mother. It’s just scary right now, but you’re doing great trying so hard to help this boy come into the world.”

“But I’m alone,” she whispers, the words barely escaping her lips before they get captured by a sob, one that moves her shoulders and makes her vision completely blur.

She’s alone.

She thought she finally wouldn’t be, but she is. She’s alone and terrified.

But she’s been alone for most of her life, and the sad truth is that she knows how to deal with it. She knows how to deal with handling things by herself, how to deal with pain and happiness, with loss and with celebration.

She knows.

So she can do it. She can get through it. She has to.

She can be a mother.

She can be a mother for this kid. Maybe even for herself too.

Her eyes haven’t seen this kid outside of a black and white picture. Her hands haven’t felt him move except for the hard kicks to her ribs that have taken her breath away. Her arms haven’t held him except when she’s cradled her bump at night.

She doesn’t know anything about this kid, but she knows that she loves him. She knows that she wants to be his mom and to be there for him for every day of his life.

She knows.

This is her son, and she can do this.

And she does.

Even with the epidural, it’s possibly one of the most painful things she’s ever experienced, and she knows that doesn’t go away anytime soon. All of the books told her that about the recovery. But there was no way they could tell her the pure joy that she feels holding this red, squirmy baby in her arms. He’s beautiful. He’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen in her life, and she made him with her body.

She and Neal made him.

They’re parents. They’re freaking parents.

She can’t wait to tell him, to let him know that his son is here, but right now all she wants is to spend time with her boy, to get to hold him and never let go.

She’s never letting go.

“Hey, Henry,” she sighs, rubbing her finger across his cheek while he looks up at her. He has Neal’s nose. She always thought people who could tell who a baby looked like when they’re born are crazy, but her kid has Neal’s nose. “I’m your momma. I am. You are so precious, and I love you so damn much. I’m pretty sure you don’t understand what I’m saying, so that curse is just between you and me, okay? Yeah? Just between you and me. Your daddy never has to know.”

“You did a great job,” her nurse sighs as she stands at the door. “That’s a good baby with a healthy mom.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, leaning her head back against the pillow. It feels so comfortable, but she’s not ready to go to sleep quite yet. “It really means so much to me to have had someone to hold my hand throughout all of that.”

“It’s certainly not a problem.”

“Hey, what’s your name? I’m sorry I didn’t ask before. I was kind of busy.”

“Ingrid.”

“Thank you, Ingrid.”

Ingrid walks out of the room, and she turns all of her attention back to Henry and the roundness of his eyes, the dark lashes. He’s so bald, but he’s got this one little patch of dark hair. He’s beautiful. Just beautiful. And not crying, which she thinks she likes most of all.

“I think you and I are going to be good friends, kid,” she tells him, letting him grasp onto her finger. “Like, you eat food from my boob, so it’s pretty much a given that we’re going to be close. Just saying. My body has gone through a lot for your existence, and I expect some good mother’s day gifts someday. Your daddy knows what I like. Oh, I can’t wait for you to meet your dad. You’re going to love him. He’s so funny. I bet he’ll make you laugh all of the time, yeah? But not as much as me. Don’t tell your dad, but I’m so much funnier than him. He has no idea.”

Throughout the rest of the day, nurses and doctors come in and out to check on both she and Henry. She knows that she takes a lot of naps, but it’s all a bit of a blur for her as some of the pain starts to kick in and she struggles getting Henry to eat. Once he does, though, she feels like infinitely less of a failure. It’s a weird feeling, being so devastated by something that’s really not in her control, but she has to keep reminding herself that she’s not going to be perfect at this and that things are going to go wrong. Hell, so many have already.

But Henry is here and healthy, and that’s all that matters. That’s always been what matters.

“Thanks for making me not be alone anymore, kid.”

-/-

Neal and Henry talk for the rest of the ride home, but really, it’s mostly Henry going on and on about his game and saying the same things several times while Neal pretends it’s brand new information to him. When she pulls into the garage, the door shutting behind them, she switches the call to her phone so that she can talk to Neal for a little bit while she sends Henry inside to take his shower, hoping that he’s actually going to wash himself instead of simply standing under the water.

“Thanks for calling him today,” she tells him as she rocks Ada back and forth in her glider, hoping that she’ll fall asleep soon and not have another meltdown. “It was kind of a big day for him, and you have no idea how much that means to him.”

“Of course. He’s my kid. Just because I’m not at home anymore doesn’t mean I’m not going to be there for him.”

Her heart lurches, practically dropping to the pit of her stomach, and she has to hold back the tears that are threatening to push through. That’s literally all she’s ever wanted since the day Henry was born.

“That’s good,” she sniffles, adjusting Ada in her arms. “You’re a good dad. You’ve done such a good job adjusting to being a parent to an eight-year-old who likes to talk back and who you can’t just cuddle with to make them stop crying.”

Neal hums on the other end of the line. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You sound a little upset.”

“I – ” she begins, almost ready to spill all of her thoughts to Neal, but she bites her tongue to hold herself back. She’s not about to share how upset she is with Killian with Neal. That’s pretty much asking for disaster. She knows that they have a good relationship, a good friendship, but they’re not the kind of exes who talk about their love lives with each other. Not in graphic detail. They talk about Henry and the movies and old times. She doesn’t tell him her intimate thoughts, not anymore. “It’s been a long day. The kids had me about ready to pull my hair out.”

“Killian didn’t help?”

“He got called into work,” she lies, telling Neal the same one she told Henry earlier. Killian will call soon. He has to.

Neal clicks his tongue.

“What?” she asks, watching Ada’s eyes flutter closed.

“Nothing.”

“It’s obviously something, Neal. I know you. You click your tongue when you have something to say.”

“It’s just that, well, shouldn’t Killian be around for Henry’s soccer game?”

“Sometimes things come up.”

“That’s still a shitty thing to do.”

She huffs, all of that anger from this morning returning as the memories flood back to her brain. How in the world did she forget that she needed to talk to Neal? It’s like she got lulled into some kind of false sense of security and didn’t even realize it.

“You missed his game today too, Neal. For the exact same reason.” She doesn’t know if Killian is at work right now, but that’s what she’s going with. Something must have happened for him not to be here. “And we are far too old to be playing petty games over who is being a better parent to Henry. By the way, where the hell do you get off telling Henry that Killian is his step dad?”

She can feel her voice begin to raise, so she gets up from the chair and puts Ada in her crib, hoping that she’ll fall asleep quickly. When she exits the nursery, she can still hear the shower going, so she walks down the hall and into her bedroom, moving to the bathroom so Henry will be less likely to hear her talk. She can’t begin to count the number of arguments she and Killian have had in the bathroom. They don’t yell too often, but she doesn’t want Henry to hear any of it when they do argue.

Neal still hasn’t said anything, so she asks again. “Why did you say that?”

“I didn’t,” he finally says, his voice completely even.

“Henry told me that you did.”

“He’s a kid. He says crazy shit.”

“He’s a smart kid who only says things when he’s learned them somewhere else. Just admit to it so we can talk about it. It’s already a tricky situation, so we don’t need it to get worse.”

“What’s tricky about it? He’s my kid, and Killian is pretty much his step dad. I mean, you two aren’t married, so not really. But I figured that made it less complicated.”

Less complicated her ass. Why is he being such an ass about this? This is not him, not anymore.

“First of all, he is Killian’s kid too. I have never let Henry think that you’re not his dad. You are. That’s something I’ve made a priority for him to understand ever since he was old enough. But you cannot take away Killian’s right to him as well. Killian helped me raise him, Neal. For most of Henry’s life, Killian has been Henry’s dad too. That doesn’t just change.”

“Well, it’s not my fault that I wasn’t fucking around to raise him.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“You might as well have, going on and on about Killian this, Killian that. Fuck, Ems. He’s not the greatest man in existence. You don’t have to put him on a pedestal.”

“I don’t.”

“Please,” he scoffs, and she feels acid swish in her stomach, twisting around as she settles down on the countertop next to the sink, her legs like jello beneath her. “You so do. Ever since I’ve come back it’s been all about Killian and the life you share and the daughter you have, like our marriage was absolutely nothing to you. I bet you didn’t even consider taking me back.”

“What the hell is your problem today? I’m trying to talk to you about our son to make sure that he doesn’t get confused, and you decide to be nasty to me? No, Neal, I didn’t really consider taking you back. Life moved on. It changed. But don’t you dare for a second think that I didn’t go through hell trying to figure out how to deal with things when you came home. I nearly lost my mind trying to handle everything. I care about you. You’re my friend, and I tried my best. But there’s no way you could have expected me to drop everything to be with you when I spent years grieving you.”

“I would have done it for you.”

“Bullshit. I loved you, but you never loved me in the same way. I didn’t realize it at the time, but now I know.”

“I think you’re making a mistake being with Killian.”

“I think you’re making a mistake trying to talk to me about this when it’s really none of your business.”

“If it affects my son, it is my business.”

She scoffs, bewilderment inching its way over all of her skin, gooseflesh rising. How fucking dare he try to turn this on her, try to gaslight her. This is what he’s always done. He’s always tried to steamroll her like this. She thought he’d changed, that he’s tried to be better, so why is he being like this? He shouldn’t be like this anymore.

“You know what affects your son, Neal?” she asks, her voice cold even to her own ears. “His dad fucking with how he thinks of one of his other parents. No part of that is okay, nor will it ever be okay. Don’t do it again.”

She hears him say her name on the other end of the phone, but she hangs up before he can say anything else. He’ll call back. She knows that he will, but she’s done with that conversation. It was ridiculous, in every single way. She knew it wouldn’t be comfortable bringing up the whole step parent thing, but she didn’t think it would ever turn into…that.

What the hell was that?

Neal hasn’t talked to her like that since he found out that she and Killian were together. It was harsh, but she understood in a way. Now though, she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand why he would be rude to her life that, why he would try to make her think that she’s doing something wrong by being with Killian, to make her think that she’s a bad mother. It’s how he used to talk to her, but it’s not how the man she’s known as talked to her ever since he came back.

It’s not supposed to happen like that anymore.

All she wants to do is cry, but she’s too tired to cry. If she starts, she may not be able to stop. It’s all too much. Today has been too much for her, and she still doesn’t know where Killian is, what’s going on with him. In the back of her mind she thinks that maybe she should be calling hospitals to make sure that he’s not in one, but something in her gut keeps her from doing that. She does text Mary Margaret and David, however, hoping that maybe one of them will have the answer.

She needs to know, and worry is slowly covering each inch of her skin.

“Mom,” Henry calls, stepping into her bathroom.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Can you make me a hot dog?”

“Sure,” she sighs, giving him a watery smile and wiping away at her eyes. “Let’s go do that.”

The rest of her day is spent with her kids, trying to entertain the both of them with games and movies, even going outside to play on the play set for awhile. She never hears from Killian, and only Mary Margaret texts her back to say that she hasn’t heard from him and that David’s got a busy day at work and probably won’t get back to her until his shift is over. It bothers her, makes her practically sick to her stomach, but she can’t focus on it as she focuses on making sure Ada and Henry have a good day.

It’s what she has to do if she’s doing this alone today.

That night, after she’s got Ada in her crib, she walks to the next room over and into Henry’s. They both cleaned up in here a bit today, so she doesn’t step over any legos or sharp objects as she crawls into his bed behind him, wrapping her arm around his waist and holding onto her son like her life depends on it.

Maybe sometimes it does.

“What are you doing?” he mumbles, still flipping through one of his books.

“Cuddling with you because I love you so much.”

He squirms, but he still settles into her. “I love you too.”

“What are you reading?”

“Matilda.”

“That’s a good one.”

“I know. I like it. She has magic.”

She nods her head and settles it down onto Henry’s shoulder, reading behind him while he mumbles some of the words out loud. She doesn’t know how she got a kid who loves to read when she remembers hating it at his age, but she’s really thankful for that.

She’s thankful for Henry and how he changed her entire life for the better on the day he was born, how he brought magic into her life in a time that was so dark that even the stars seemed to disappear, blinking out one by one until there was no light left.

Except for Henry. He has always been the light.

“Did you know I love you?” she whispers to him.

“Yeah, you already said that.”

“I know.” She kisses his cheek and holds him a little closer. “It’s just that I love you and Ada so much that sometimes my heart can’t contain it, and I have to keep telling you so that you know how much I love you, how much I’ll always love you forever.”

“I love you and Ada too,” he says simply. She knows that he means the words, but they don’t have the same emotional depth that her words do. Good. He doesn’t need to feel how she’s feeling, like her heart is threatening to break into pieces over how much she loves him.

“And your dad and your daddy love you too. So much more than you even know.”

“I know. Mom, you’re making it hard to read my book.”

Emma chuckles, kissing his cheek again before she shifts out of the bed, figuring that she’s smothered him enough for tonight. Just because she needs to time with him doesn’t mean that he wants it. “In thirty minutes your light needs to be off and you need to be asleep, okay?”

“Whatever.”

“Henry.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Night, kid. Thanks for making me feel like I have real magic in my life.”

“Goodnight, Mom.”

She closes his door behind her and makes her way downstairs, quickly checking on Ada on her way. The house is quiet, only the sounds of the air conditioner running and the refrigerator making ice filling the space. Usually she’d crave something like this. She’d crave having peace and quiet and not having to worry about anything for a little while. She can fix herself a cup of hot chocolate and settle down in front of the television to watch whatever she wants. Those are the nights she craves sometimes, but now that she has one of those, she wants none of it.

All she wants is for this day to be over, possibly for this day not to exist. Frankly, it sucked, and she knows that not everything will be fixed when she wakes up in the morning. She’s still pissed at Neal. Like, if he were home she would probably have the urge to punch him pissed. She’s worried about Henry and how everything is impacting him. She’s already emailed Dr. Hopper today, but sometimes she’s worried that him going to therapy and them trying so much to give him a good life is not enough.

Sometimes she worries that she is not enough.

That she’s not enough for her children.

That she’s not enough for Killian.

He has only made her feel that way once in all of their time together, and she doesn’t hold it against him, not anymore. She understands everything that he was going through. But right now, today, she needs him, and he’s not here.

She falls asleep on the couch, and when she wakes, it’s to a twist in her neck and a twist of the front door handle, Killian coming inside as quietly as possible. At first, she’s relieved that he’s okay, that he’s home, but then she remembers the absolute hell that she’s been through all day without him by her side, without him answering any of her calls.

“Where have you been?” she whispers. She thought the words would be louder, harsher, but she finds that she can barely get them past her lips.

Right now she’s just relieved that he’s okay, that his heart is still beating within his chest.

“Why aren’t you asleep, love?” Killian asks her, stepping into the bright light of the living room so that she can see the red rim around his eyes. “You should go to bed.”

“I’d really rather know why you ignored all of my calls all day long.”

“I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“Damn it, no,” she yells, this time the words coming out as she sits up further on the couch, “tell me now. I’m done being pushed around today. You have been gone. I have been worried. Henry has been worried, and you walk in here at two in the morning telling me that we’ll talk later. No, that’s not how this works.”

Killian nods his head while his lips press together in a firm line. He looks exhausted and like he’s been crying, and beneath all of her anger, she feels the worry for him that she’s felt all day. “You’re right,” he sighs, his lashes landing against his cheeks as he looks at the ceiling before his gaze finally finds hers. “I’ve got some things to talk to you about.”

#rising from the ashes #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan #captain swan fic

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