#just got off a long handover call for this big project i’m working on

[134340am]

feelin good 🌟

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Sabotage

Holvo’s day had started out much like any other.  Woke up, left his family for work, entered the office early, waved hello to his fellow coworkers, and then made his way to the his team’s station.  He was walking just outside of his area when he passed the human janitor mopping the floors. The human looked up and smiled to him.  “Mornin Mr. Holvo, lovely day isn’t it?”  Holvo smiled in return and nodded as he walked past. “You say the same thing every day I see you Patrick. You do realize that we have weather control units around the city that always keep it a perfect day?”  Patrick shrugged. “Doesn’t make them any less beautiful now does it?”  “No, I guess it doesn’t.” Holvo chuckled as he reached into his pocket and searched for his access card. Patrick stepped over to him as he was searching and swiped his own card to grant access to the lab.  “Today the day you build your fancy reactor?” Normally non-scientific staff were not to know the details about high level projects, but Holvo saw no harm in sharing the odd detail with Patrick if not to show off a bit. “Today’s the day we change the universe my friend.”  Patrick chuckled and waved goodbye as the doors to his team’s lab opened.  Holvo entered and stepped passed other researchers already at work on projects. Some looked up to acknowledge his presence, while others were so focused on their work they didn’t even acknowledge his passing. He took no offense though as that was what he excepted from his team.  This research center was the most advanced on the entire planet. His team was working on a new energy source that would revolutionize the galaxy at large. As Holvo set down his belongings and dawned his lab coat he was already picturing the list of clients that had signed up already wishing to purchase their new technology. The profits would not only set up himself and the company for several lifetimes, it would also ensure his peoples eternal place in the history of the universe at large.  A knock at the door drew his attention away from visions of glory. An aide was standing in the doorway to his office with a digital readout pad. “We’re ready to begin the final test.”   Holvo took the digital readout and gave it a once over. “Everything looks in order. Come, let’s go make history.”  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The light emanating from the reactor flickered across the gathered group of researchers, their protective goggles giving the group the eerie appearance. They watched from an overhanging balcony as the massive reactor below spun ever onwards generating more and more power.  “Reactor power levels at 100%”  An automated voice chimed in as displayed data feeds continued to update with ever changing strings of information.    “Reactor power levels stable.”  “Computer, begin transferring facility power supply from outside sources to this internal generator.”  Holvo’s voice cut through the silence as every researcher waited with baited breath.  “Power transfer now commencing.”  The lights in the room flickered for a moment as the hum of the generator continued to ring in the ears of all those present.  “Power transfer now complete. No flags were issued during the handover.”  “Computer, how long will this facility now be able to function while hooked up to the generator?” Holvo queried his question calmly, but inwardly he was never more scared. Everything hinged on the reply.  “At current consumption, this facility will be able to function for 347 years, 256 days, 19 hours, 6 minutes, and 24 seconds.”  The computer rattled off its answer but by then the researchers had broken into a rousing cheer and began hugging each other widely.  The generator was a success!  Holvo took off his goggles and turned to his team and joined in the festivities.  “I take it congratulations are in order?”  Holvo turned from his team and saw Patrick entering the control room with his cleaning cart behind him as he began emptying the nearby waste baskets.  “Yes, YES! We’ve done it!” Holvo yelped as he grabbed hold of Patrick and gave him a bear hug of joy.  “Alright, alright; it’s your big day and all.” Patrick tapped Holvo on the back and he let him go.  It was only after that Holvo had let go of Patrick that he felt something strange; as if something was wrong but he couldn’t put his finger in it. But like a rain falling through a drain pipe the wrongness pushed its way forward from the back of his mind.  “Patrick, what are you doing here?”  Patrick looked at him oddly. “What do you mean? I’m emptying the waste baskets, its my job.”  “But how did you get in here?”  Patrick smiled and patted him on the shoulder as he emptied another basket into his kart and then replaced it. “All this excitement must’ve boggled your brain a bit. I’ve got access to every room in the facility.” Holvo shook his head. “The security lockout should be in place while we are testing the generator. Even with your key card you should not be able to enter this room.”  A shuttering idea then soon followed that the system had somehow been disabled during the power transfer and he made to leave the room immediately to check the security systems when Patrick forestalled him.   “Don’t worry, the security system is still in place, nothing got shut down.”  Holvo let out a sigh of relief. “Are you sure?”  Patrick nodded as he finished emptying the last waste bin.  “I made sure to turn it back on myself before coming in.”  The sense of wrongness now felt much like a tidal wave. His eyes widened as Patrick’s hand was slowly emerging from the kart’s trash bag holding a gun of some sort and calmly pointed it at him. He tore his gaze away from the gun just long enough to see Patrick smiling the same smile he had done for the last three years every morning before the first shot rung out.  Holvo collapsed to the floor clutching his gut, blood coming out in spurts. The rest of the research team turned at the sudden noise only for Patrick to train his gun on them can carefully begin picking them off one by one.  None of them were able to utter so much as a gasp of surprise before the bullet pierced their skulls. In mere moments Patrick had gunned down the entire research team of twelve, the silence of the room once again returning.  Dragging himself to the nearby wall Holvo was able to prop himself up, though not without difficulty. His hands were still desperately tightly covering his wound, feverishly trying to stop the blood loss.  He tore his gaze away from the wound to look up. Across the room Patrick was at the control panels humming some indistinguishable tune while inserting a series of data drives.  “Wha......what have you done?” Holvo gasped.  “I could say I was taking out the trash but honestly I’m above such humor.” Patrick didn’t even bother to turn around in his response, his focus solely on the control panels. “But since we’re friends I feel as if I can be straight with you.”  Pulling the drives one by one as they flashed green before turning around to face Holvo and leaned on the consoles. “You’re probably wondering why I shot you and murdered your entire team, or more likely wondering how you’ll fix that wound before you bleed out; honestly it’s a fifty fifty to me so you just tell me which one is more important.”  Holvo felt like this was all some nightmare. The Patrick he had known for several years had suddenly become a monster. He tried to speak but was stopped by a violent fit of coughing up blood.  Nodding as he put the drives into his pocket Patrick looked down at Holvo as if he understood something. “Why I went all shootie on you then, good choice.” He began walking over and calmly picking up the spent shell casings and tossing them into the karts trash bag. He saw the confused look on Holvo’s face and shrugged. “Best to leave as little evidence as possible I always say.”  As the final casing flew into the bag Patrick crouched down on his hind legs in front of Holvo. “I’ve been undercover here for the last three years to learn and eventually steal your latest generator technology. My employer wished to have said technology for themselves and paid a handsome fee to obtain it, even going so far to offer an additional payment should I eliminate the research team as well.”  He smirked. “I guess you could call me a spy, but I make James Bond look like a pansy.” “You won’t get away with this.” Halvo forced the words out with increasing effort.  “Oh I won’t need to worry.” Holvo said gesturing back to the control panels. “While I was copying all your files, schematics, logs, and personal databases; I set your fancy reactor to begin cranking the power output up by 100% every thirty minutes. By the time I’m off world this thing will have reached critical mass and detonate leveling half the city.” Holvo’s eyes went wide in horror. “Not only will the destruction eradicate any evidence, but it also ruins this company as their experimental reactor will be seen as the catalyst for the devastation. It’ll go bankrupt and be forced to sell off, which my employer will buy up for nickles and dimes before completing your work again several years down the road.”  Patrick’s eyes narrowed for a moment and he looked down at his gun. “Just realized if this place goes nuclear it won’t matter if there are shell casings or not. Oh well, old habits and what not.”  “How dare you...steal our dream...of...a paradise.” Holvo coughed.  “Me?” Patrick held his hand to his chest and looked surprised. “The fault is not mine, but yours my friend. You were so busy dreaming of the future that you failed to notice that there was a snake in your garden until it was too late.”  He stood back up and moved back to his kart. “I’d say it was nice knowing you, or that this is painful for me since you were like a friend, but honestly you were the biggest prick I’ve ever known.”  Holvo’s arms fell limply away from his wound as the strength sapped from his body. He watched Patrick leave and felt the rhythmic beating of the reactor growing steadily beneath his feet. His dream of the future had become his nightmare of the present. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The security guard made their routine stroll past the restricted lab just as the human janitor was exiting.  “Hey you,” he called out, “that’s a restricted area when they’re testing.”  The human janitor looked sheepish and hunched over a bit.  ‘I know, but Mr. Holvo asked me to come in and clean all the waste baskets before they start doing more tests. Something about it “distracting him”. Can you believe that guy?”  The guard smirked and nodded. “Never really liked the fellow myself either.”  “He even told me to tell you that no one is to disturb him for the next few hours while they run more tests. What do I look like, his errand boy?”  “You don’t need to convince me friend. Best get moving before he starts having you write his acceptance speech or brag about how he’s made his mark in history.”  The human janitor smiled at that last remark. “Right hoe, best get moving. I wouldn’t doubt it though, he’s probably think about his mark in history even as we speak.”  

[siobhom]

Fic: The winner takes it all (A Peraltiago kid halloween heist fic)

This is a @b99fandomevents fic written for @yaboring-yabasic

Thank you for the prompt, hope you enjoy! 

“Heist! Heist! Heist!” she continues to chant as they wander around the neighbourhood, candy bags held tight as they adhere to Amy’s pre-made chart of whose doors they’re allowed to knock on.  

And Amy’s already worrying about the impending tantrum when Jake whispers, “We should put a little fake heist on for her.”

And so they end up in the living room, Jake and Amy grinning widely at Mia, as Jake holds Mr Zebra up high and Amy declares, “The winner needs to find and hold onto Mr Zebra until the clock says three, do you remember what the number three looks like Mia?”

Read it on AO3 here 

Amy knows she’s one of Miss Ryan’s favourite parents. Of course it’s a disadvantage that she doesn’t get as much face-time as the mums who get to do regular pick-ups and drop offs, but she likes to think she makes up for lack of quantity with quality. She volunteers to help out on school trips, science fairs, sports days and other activities and projects whenever she can, along with helping to organise them, a binder ready for every eventuality. She’s also very engaged in Mia’s learning and development (she also has binders for this but doesn’t show these to teachers anymore after previous incidents where they felt like Amy was telling them how to do their jobs) and tries to attend all of the little award ceremonies (or make sure Jake attends the ones she can’t).

There are a couple of marks on her record, like the one time she had to pull out of helping with a play at the last minute due to a break in a case, and Jake had also been undercover that week, she had gotten Rosa to attend. And while Amy knew Mia was more than happy with that (probably happier than actually seeing her parents there, who praised everything she did and therefore were not difficult to impress, whereas impressing her favourite tia Rosa actually meant she had done something that was worth being impressed over) she had felt Miss Ryan’s judgement.  There was also the time that she had gotten over-excited about a project and sent too many emails at once. But Amy has used her Most-likely-to-befriend-a-school-administrator spirit to maintain a good rapport with Miss Ryan and has regular discussions with her about Mia’s progress.

She has no reason to suspect this discussion will be any different to the usual ones. Okay, so it’s in person, which is a little out of the ordinary, especially at this point in the year where there aren’t any parent-teacher conferences and there’s nothing coming up that needs planning. But Amy thinks it’s probably just about something good Mia has done. She’s not worried.

Well, she’s not worried until Miss Ryan asks, in a gentle voice,

“Are you and Jake having problems of some kind?”

Amy tenses and Jake sits up straighter in his chair.

“No. Not at all, why, what’s going on?”

“Mia has expressed upset that you are making her choose between the two of you…”

“That’s… I don’t understand… We’re not fighting and even if we were… we would never!”

“…She said something about a Halloween Heist.”

“Oh.”

Amy’s immensely shocked and horrified (both that they’ve clearly caused Mia a lot of distress with their questionable actions and that she’s definitely not going to be Miss Ryan’s favourite parent anymore).

“I am so sorry about this, of course we won’t involve Mia in the heist any further and we’ll have a discussion with her about this whole thing.”

Jake says, “Actually we won’t take part in the heist at all this year and that way we won’t even be tempted.”

His grin is too bright and Amy already knows where his head is (that he’s a terrible father just like his father was) but that’s a ledge she’ll have to talk him off later. Now, her focus is on Miss Ryan, and as much as she hates the idea of forgoing the heist altogether, Mia’s teacher is frowning a little less and so Amy reluctantly agrees.  

“Miss Ryan, we really are very sorry about this, I understand that some of our choices here have been questionable, and of course we take full responsibility and will do our best to fix the damage, but I hope you will give me a chance to explain the whole story. I really think that with full context you will understand a lot better,” Amy’s tone is slightly pleading and she gives Mia’s teacher an imploring look.

Miss Ryan has the same look on her face she gets when Amy has a New Plan that they both know is going to be very long.

“Of course, go ahead.”

And Amy sends her an apologetic look, because it is a long story, starting seven whole years ago.

----

Seven years earlier

After a long day of baby-friendly Halloween craft activities and trick-or-treating, Amy’s lounging on the couch, drinking coffee and waiting for her energy to pick back up: it’s heist time. All they have to do is wait for the baby-sitter. And then her cell starts ringing. She answers to the sound of coughing and spluttering, followed by the baby-sitter saying in a weak tinny voice,

“Ms Santiago, I’m very sorry, I’m sick.”

“So sorry to hear that sweetheart, I hope you feel better soon,” Amy says, hoping she’s masking her disappointment appropriately. She walks into the bedroom, where Jake is pretending he’s not doing something related to his heist-plan, “Baby-sitter’s sick.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So do you want to flip for who stays and who goes?”

“We should both stay,” Jake says.

Amy smiles. “That’s sweet, but there’s no reason for us to both miss out.”

Jake sends her a beaming smile in return.

A moment later, an idea strikes, and they both simultaneously say,

“Wait, did you plan this!?”

And

“You did this didn’t you!?”

“Me?” Jake retorts incredulous, “You’re the one who got a ‘phone call’ from the babysitter.”

“Yeah, a call clearly arranged by you! How much did you pay her to cancel?”

“Nothing. Because clearly the babysitter didn’t even call you.”

“Let’s call her back and find out.”

“Oh please, do you think I don’t know that you would have planned for that.”  

“I suppose we’re at an impasse.”

“Yes, we are at an impasse,” Jake says with an eyebrow raise that says, look I used that big word correctly, we both know what that means, Amy just rolls her eyes in response, “I guess we’ll have to flip for it after all.”

They both inspect the coin thoroughly. Amy flips it and Jake calls, “Heads.”

“It’s heads,” Amy says, disappointment purposefully bleeding into her tone, if this is part of Jake’s plan she’s not letting him get away with it guilt-free.

“Yes! ...Wait; this is part of your plan too, isn’t it?” Jake accuses, “You want us all to think you’re not playing, just so you can go behind our backs again! Well I’m not falling for it! You go, I’m staying right here!”

“Or maybe that’s exactly what your plan is! I’m staying here.”

“I guess we’ll just have to both stay here then!”

“Yeah, I guess we will!”

They pause, both frowning.

“We could take her with us?”

“Ooh, yes. Let’s do that.”

 They draw up a timetable of when they will take turns looking after her, it requires a lot of negotiation, mainly over the last half an hour of the heist (which they’ve ended up having to split into six minute slots, Jake has Mia for the final twelve minutes in exchange for Amy having her for the first half hour of the heist).  

“This is the final schedule,” Amy says, “there will be no deviations, except that we are each allowed one emergency handover which can be used at any time up until the final hour of the heist.”

Amy, never one to forgo an opportunity, discretely plants a bug on Mia. Mia happily toddles near Amy, not understanding what’s going on but clearly enjoying the energy of the whole game. She almost regrets having to hand her over to Jake (she’s so adorable to watch).  

As soon as Jake hands her back, Amy shuffles them to the evidence lock-up, retrieving the bug, and begins listening, she grins. Oh this is perfect! She laughs, loud and excited. And Mia joins her, clapping her hands together like only a toddler can.

“You’ve done very good work,” she tells her daughter, “well done.”

Mia claps more, squealing with laughter.

It’s then that Amy hears it; Jake planting a recording device of his own. She shakes her head, immediately rewinding and messing with the recording, she can definitely use this to spread misinformation, she smiles at Mia, telling her, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

 Six years earlier

“Heist!” Mia says the next year, eyeing the Halloween decorations as Jake puts her in her tiger costume.

“Heist! Heist! Heist!” she continues to chant as they wander around the neighbourhood, candy bags held tight as they adhere to Amy’s pre-made chart of whose doors they’re allowed to knock on.  

And Amy’s already worrying about the impending tantrum when Jake whispers, “We should put a little fake heist on for her.”

And so they end up in the living room, Jake and Amy grinning widely at Mia, as Jake holds Mr Zebra up high and Amy declares, “The winner needs to find and hold onto Mr Zebra until the clock says three, do you remember what the number three looks like Mia?”

Mia nods vigorously and enthusiastically.

Jake and Amy don’t put much effort into pretending to look, after all Mia is too busy running around looking for her stuffed toy to notice or care.

And later, she points to the three on the clock as she proudly clutches Mr Zebra.

Her parents clap and cheer. They tell Mia they love her, and put their coats on just as the babysitter takes her own off.  

And their daughter is young enough that most kids her age wouldn’t question what’s happening here. But unfortunately, little Mia has inherited all of her parents detective instincts.

Her face falls.

“Heist?” Mia asks; her voice small.

But she doesn’t start bawling or throwing a tantrum, both things her parents could deal with. Instead she gives them a deeply disappointed look, that’s equal parts hurt someone-just-poked-his-abandonment-issues Jake (that Amy is powerless in the face of) and stressed an-authority-figure-expressed-dissatisfaction-in-her Amy (that Jake is powerless in the face of).

And so they cancel the baby-sitter and they both search her for recording devices three times before leaving.

Amy’s too focused on her plan to see how it happens, but somehow the heist ends like this:

Jake successfully gets Mia to run across the room to him carrying the heist object (a blue shoe). Amy’s enthralled- her heart filling up as she watches her daughter run with joy and determination. And as Jake swirls Mia around in celebration, both laughing a little uproariously, Amy thinks it’s almost worth losing.

 Five years earlier

Mia’s just as excited the following year and this time they don’t even bother booking a baby-sitter, it’s understood that she’ll be coming with them.

Two thirds into the heist Mia gets her hands on the prize, a gold medallion, and starts caterwauling any time anyone even tries to take it off her.

“This is cheating. We should disqualify both of them,” Rosa says, pointing at Jake and Amy.

“I have nothing to do with this, if anyone should be disqualified it should be Jake!” Amy exclaims.

“Let’s just get the thing off of her,” Jake says, waving a peanut butter cup in her face, and then Mr Zebra, and then an Ipad showing her favourite episode of Doc Mcstuffins. Mia doesn’t budge. “Mia,” her husband says in a sing-song voice, “if you give me the shiny thing I will take you to Disneyland.”

“Jake!” Amy admonishes.

“Don’t act like you didn’t start this,” Jake replies.

“It’s got to be Amy!” Charles says.

“Unless Jake’s bluffing and he’s promised to actually only take her to Disneyland if she doesn’t give it up,” Rosa says.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s still a baby!” Terry says, “She’s probably just more interested in the shiny thing.”

“Or maybe Terry’s behind this whole thing, he got to her, just like he got to Cheddar,” Amy says.

And so the argument goes on and on and on.

Mia hands over the medallion to Amy with a minute left on the clock.

 Four years earlier

“I’m a big girl and I’m going to decide what I do this year,” Mia states, and then quoting one of her favourite TV characters says, “I am a strong, indepeppendent, team player!”

“Of course you are sweetheart, it’s pronounced independent by the way.”

“In-de-pen-dent.”

“Very good. Well done.”

“What’s your plan mummy?” she asks.

 “Daddy, I’m secretly on your team,” Mia whispers way-too-loud, but both of them pretend Amy hasn’t heard it even though they know she has.

 “Mummy, I told daddy I’m secretly on his team but I’m actually secretly on your team!” Again, she’s well within Jake’s hearing range and the both of them smile indulgently.

  Three years earlier

Mia is solidly team Jake. They make the best team: they are going to win. She has a little binder and everything. She says with her binders and his ridiculous spontaneous (and yes, she can pronounce it correctly) ideas they will be unstoppable.

Two years earlier

Mia is solidly team Amy (because daddy is a loser who made her lose).

One year earlier

Mia is solidly team Jake until an hour before the end when- in an act of ruthless betrayal- she reveals she’s been on team Amy all along.

----

“I see,” Miss Ryan says once the tale is done, seemingly happier now, “That makes more sense. I know that to adults it may seem like it’s just teams for a game, but children, especially at Mia’s age, when greater understanding of the world around them and concepts of empathy are becoming more fully formed, can be particularly sensitive to such things. Just be aware of that in the future.”

“Of course,” Amy says as Jake nods vigorously.

 And so, on the 31st, Jake and Amy are sat snuggled on the couch, with a bad horror movie ready to play and mugs of hot chocolate warming their hands. And a bowl of candy ready for trick-or-treaters.

It’s pleasant, Amy thinks. “I’m so tempted to go to the heist right now,” she says.

“We can’t!”

“Mia’s not even here, she doesn’t ever have to know.”

“I still can’t believe she abandoned us to go trick-or-treating with Cagney and Lacey and Ava, we’re awesome at trick-or-treating!”

“I know! Our baby girl is growing up.”

“So the heist?”

“No, you’re right, we can’t. She’ll find out and then she’ll feel left out and she won’t tell anyone the next time she’s upset about something.”

“Cool, cool, cool.”

They watch the movie. Amy laughs at Jake’s commentary and temporarily forgets about the heist entirely.

Jake and Amy both get up when they hear Cagney knock on the door, ready to great them and admire their respective candy hoards.

The last thing they expect is Mia grinning, holding up a trophy and exclaiming, “Suck it, losers!”

“What…what is happening?!”

Mia grins smugly, “I won the heist!”  

Amy flitters between absolute outrage and absolute pride.

(And part of her is annoyed with herself because she really should’ve seen this coming. After all Mia has inherited all of her competitiveness and all of Jake’s competitiveness).

Before she can formulate words, Jake says, “Our baby girl really is growing up!”

“I know!” she replies, before turning to Mia, “Well played, congratulations!”

“Yeah, congrats! You earned this!” Jake adds.

“Thank you,” Mia says, doing an elaborate victory dance.

 Amy hovers in Mia’s doorway that night, “You know your dad and I love you very much and we’re both very proud of you, not just for today.”

“I know mum.”

Amy continues, “Having said that. At next year’s heist, I’m going to destroy you.”

Mia smirks. “Not if I destroy you first.”  

[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

-------------------

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.’

----------------------

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.’

-------------

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.

-----------

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.’

-----------------

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.’

[aion-rsa]

Into the Badlands: What’s Next For Daniel Wu

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

The COVID-19 pandemic has brought moviemaking to a screeching halt all around the world. For Daniel Wu, who works in both Hollywood and Chinese productions, it’s been about watching and waiting to see which side of the Pacific reopens their studios first. 

“For me, it actually just feels like what it feels like between jobs,” says Wu. “It’s just been really long.”

Most Americans know Daniel Wu from his groundbreaking AMC series Into the Badlands. Some might recognize him from his more recent roles in Tomb Raider and Geostorm, and a few may even remember him from Jackie Chan’s Around the World in 80 Days or RZA’s The Man with the Iron Fists. But Daniel Wu’s filmography is far more extensive than his Hollywood roles. In Asia, he is an A-list actor with over 70 films under his belt. He amassed numerous nominations from Asia’s most prestigious award ceremonies and won Best Supporting Actor for his role in Jackie Chan’s New Police Story at Taiwan’s Golden Horse Awards. However, Wu’s 20-year-plus movie career was never his plan. He was going to be an architect and was discovered by chance.

Wu was born in California and graduated from University of Oregon with a degree in architecture. “In ‘97 when I graduated, you know Hong Kong was going back to China and I decided OK, I’m going to go see this event—the Handover—and travel around Asia for two or three months and figure out what I was going to do,” Wu recalls. “My first month in Hong Kong, I got scouted to do a TV commercial and that led to the director of my first film, Yonfan, seeing that ad and then calling me into his office.” That film was Bishonen. 

Bishonen is a Japanese term meaning “beautiful boy” and the film was a milestone for LGBTQ cinema in Hong Kong. Loosely based on a true story, Wu plays a gay cop entangled in complex affairs. “What I identified with when I first read it was that this was just a coming of age story,” Wu says. “It doesn’t matter that he’s in love with a guy or a girl or whatever. It’s a basic coming of age story. He’s trying to find who he is. So that’s how I kind of tapped into it with no acting background whatsoever. I jumped into this really complicated character and a difficult movie to make as my first role.”

Since his discovery, Wu has taken on a wide range of roles. “A lot of people don’t know that my career is not just Into the Badlands. I’ve done 20 years of all kinds of filmmaking: romantic comedies to action to noir to whatever to art house films, everything. I didn’t want to be cornered into one genre.” 

For anyone who hasn’t seen Wu’s Asian films, he has some recommendations. Gen-X Cops is an effects-laden actioner starring Hong Kong’s ‘Brat pack’ at the turn of the millennium, all of whom have gone on to be big celebrities now. Love Undercover is the rom-com that earned him his “heartthrob” cred and spawned a franchise of sequels. One Night in Mongkok is a noir crime thriller that won many Asian film awards and opened the door for Wu to make what he calls “grown-up” films. 

Wu won Best New Director for his Cantopop mockumentary Four Heavenly Kings at the coveted Hong Kong Film Awards. This film was like Spinal Tap on steroids with a brilliant unconventional marketing campaign. The four leads, including Wu, led the public into believing they were forming a boy band called “Alive,” fooling fans and the media alike. Alive even played three real major concerts in Hong Kong, Taipei and Shanghai, the last two in front of over 40,000 people. They filmed the entire journey, adding scripted scenes and staging scandals to get more media coverage and heighten the parody. It was a meta-level satire because that sort of packaged celebrity was exactly what Four Heavenly Kings was lampooning. The ruse wasn’t revealed until the film premiered.  

After Into the Badlands was cancelled, Wu took some time off to let his body recover from all the stunt work. He read scripts and focused on his hobby of restoring vintage cars. “I was offered a bunch of martial arts stuff and I felt like if I took a martial arts role, that’s all I would ever be doing.” Despite his diverse roles in Asia, as an Asian, he could easily get typecast into Kung Fu roles in Hollywood. And Wu has done plenty of action already. Prior to Badlands, he was managed by Jackie Chan for 11 years, but he left that to broaden his range. 

“I’m looking for the right project,” he says. “I haven’t found one yet. I’ve been reading a lot of scripts during this Covid period but I haven’t found one yet that I’m into in terms of acting-wise.” 

Nevertheless, Wu had already completed work on two films before the pandemic shutdown. “After Badlands Season 3, I went and did a movie in China called Caught in Time.” Wu says that film is completed but its release was delayed by the outbreak. “I play a character based on a real person in the ‘90s who basically went on a robbing spree for like 10 years. This is before China had any kind of technology – no CCTVs, any kind of stuff. So this guy figured out it’s so easy to run rampant in this kind of system. And he did. It became a game for him.” 

Wu also shot another project in November, Reminiscence, which co-stars Hugh Jackman, Rebecca Ferguson, and Thandie Newton. Reminiscence is written, produced and directed by Lisa Joy, who also writes and produces Westworld. When Joy approached him for the part, he was thrilled. “She was like ‘I want you to play this character. He’s a bad guy but I want him to be evil, but sexy and attractive all at the same time in ways that we’ve never seen in an Asian American male character on screen before.’ And before she even showed me the script I’m like ‘I’m in.’” Reminiscence is a sci-fi film noir, which is Wu’s favorite genre (Bladerunner is one of his all time favorites). More so, he was delighted to be directed by Joy. “It was really cool to see a female person of color, an Asian American sister, just owning it on set.” Reminiscence is scheduled for theatrical release in April 2021.

Wu is also working behind the camera, producing a new TV show based on his 2009 Hong Kong film Overheard. “The first one we did was about three undercover cops who were tapping in on some gangsters and trying to bust this gang. And then they hear some insider trading tips—insider trading stock stuff—that’s not related to their case at all. And so they go ‘Oh, this is not going to hurt anybody if we invest in this’. And they do it and it’s all about this morality of what’s right and wrong.” The plot has been expanded into a TV series and reset in Queens. It was picked up in December by Spectrum. Wu isn’t sure if he’ll appear in the show, but then again, he didn’t intend to appear in Into the Badlands originally either. 

What’s more, Wu was pitching his dream project when the pandemic put a stop to everything. 

“China hasn’t had a Hoosiers or a Field of Dreams, those kinds of sports feel good movies. And so I wanted to do a movie about basketball, which is my second favorite sport after martial arts.” 

China is the second largest film market in the world after Hollywood and it is poised to overtake Hollywood soon. Now with the pandemic eviscerating the global movie industry, who knows what will happen? But now, no matter what, a film must cater to both markets to truly become a global blockbuster. “I went into this trying to crack the code on what is a US China co-production and how can that be successful, right?”

If anyone is positioned to conquer both markets, it’s Daniel Wu. Already, three of his films proved the power of the Chinese market after flopping in the United States: Warcraft, Geostorm and Tomb Raider. Warcraft had a $160 million budget but only earned $47 million in the U.S. In China, it earned $221 million, making it the highest grossing video game movie of all time. It was such a dramatic turnaround that now when U.S. flops succeed in China, insiders call it a “Warcraft Redemption.”

“With these large-scale Hollywood productions, they’re trying to be more global. And so they’re trying to speak to a bigger global audience and that’s why people like me are getting more opportunities because I have a following in the East, you know? And so when you want to stack your cast with people that are pulled from different regions, it makes sense to put someone like me in those movies. And then it doesn’t hurt that I speak fluent English.” 

For part one of our interview with Daniel Wu, in which he discusses the legacy of Into the Badlands, click here.

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