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ithilwen-lionheart · 5 years

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Love, lead me on - Legolas x Priestess!Reader/OC - Chapter 1 pt. 2/2

Alternatively :

On the road leading to you, I'll send a million I love you's

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They had defeated their fair share of enemies- tiger and master, side by side, guarding each others backs and sharing an affectionate moment with their foreheads pressed together afterwards before going back in to the battlefield once more and racing to Dale after finding out that the orcs were planning to fight them on two fronts and one of which was targeting the unsuspecting settlement.

It was already a given that the dark haired priestess would abruptly turn her head towards that direction, chorusing with Gandalf as they made the dreadful announcement, although hers contained a proposition that she'll head straight toward the town along with Bard and his army of angry fishermen to hopefully warn the villagers in time and protect them before it's too late.

Thranduil had given her a look as if she had just lost any sense it was that he saw on her in the beginning.

"You came to the Woodland Realm with the intention of learning the culture in order to be a fine priestess. This is no longer the palace halls of Mirkwood but a battlefield, and you are still but a novice and not a warrior. You should be aware of the confines of what you could and could not do, Celine. Before you even get yourself killed." The elvenking, despite of his cold, condescending demeanor was adamant on keeping her out of trouble, if she was to judge it on how tight his grip on her shoulders were.

But it never made her resolution dwindle. For though she is of young age -even for a priestess, a human and most especially an elf- her fortitude and gallantry surpasses that of a great warrior, be it living or dead.

With a slight shake of her head and a confident little smile, she had confirmed that her will is yet to bend under the king's stone-cold gaze.

"My sincerest apologies, dear King but as much as I appreciate your concern, I ought to take my leave now. I believe you would be more than capable to arm yourself and your men but I doubt those men and women in Dale could survive the attack unaided." She offers instead, her face hardening a considerable amount before she decides to hide it behind yet another smile.

The Elvenking barely even held back the sharp comment threatening to resurface and slip past his lips.

'I hardly think the aid of an apprentice priestess is what they would need...'

But he still did manage to keep it to himself because he knows this stubbornly selfless and naive little novice is merely a front to something even more glorious than a simple priestess. She is a competent warrior both in heart and soul- her mentor was his son after all- although he'll never admit it. And with this, Thranduil elegantly held his head high with pride as he always does,

"Very well then. Do as you wish." He tilts his head in the manner that had already began customary for him, the one that throws parts of his silky white locks on one side in gracious flows. He then nods his head, face void of any emotions and goes in the same direction she's taking. His regal form perched on top of his great elk as the young priestess rode her tiger.

"Pardon my imprudence, my king, but is it a mere coincidence that we're both taking the same route?" Celine asked -because why else would the king leave his men in the battlefield- head cocked to the side, gusts of wind tossing the strands of her hair -that wasn't braided into her intricate bun- around.

"I am merely seeing you off. I cannot have an apprentice priestess dying in the watch of a king as I. It would simply not do my reputation any good." Thranduil replied, monotonously, as if not even giving any effort on stating his reasons. He's not even supposed to be offering explanations regarding his actions to a mere apprentice in the first place.

The bluenette gives a hum, letting it be known that she takes his excuse and resumes to ride with the king in silence, despite of all the bloodshed happening around them until finally, their paths had split up and she waved the king a silent goodbye.

"May the Valars look down and smile upon you." The elvenking says as he tips his head at the priestess with a minute upwards turn of the lips that the girl hadn't missed.

It would never escape her how those relentlessly frosty blue eyes that lingered looked so unearthly familiar that it took her breath away and she was still piecing bits of her consciousness as the snow-haired elf returned her wave with a curt nod before turning back to his post among his men.

She was finally reunited with her favorite duo back in Dale. Although not under the most favorable circumstances, but at least she had gotten to see him once again.

"Where have you two been?"

And that was when they told her the tale of an impending ambush from the north. Legolas had already tried to coax his father to help the dwarves, but seeing to it that a huge number of his kin had already been lost during the preliminary fight, she couldn't really blame Thranduil for turning his request down.

Of course, it didn't really help when Tauriel started to point her arrow at the king. Stating that she pities him since he do not know of love.

Which is quite ironic for her to say after falling in love with a dwarf she had just met and tossing all the time and memories she spent with the Prince of Mirkwood -his feelings, imcluded- and acting as if none of which had existed even though it is painfully obvious for everyone else. Including Tauriel herself because Celine knows that the captain is completely aware of it by now. Even a blind man would be able to read through it all by the use of his tone and choice of words whenever he's talking to her.

And so, the bluenette offered to help once more. Shocking every elf involved.

"This is precisely what I was telling you to avoid doing, Celine." Thranduil scolded as he was the first to react, his tone taking quite an exasperated turn once all the rashness in his features had simmered down.

Legolas then shortly followed after that,

"Even though I am openly against Ada as of current, I must agree with what he had just said. This battle is no longer yours to fight, and was never yours to begin with." His brows were furrowed and seriously wanted her out of it.

She pretended not to get hurt by this and still pushed through helping them throughout the war.

Her utter loyalty for the prince and his well-being had reached it's peak during the battle, she could barely even recall a single moment back then when she had thought about her life and not the prince's.

From the very moment he and Tauriel had arrived to announce the grave news of an ambush from Gundabad, Celine had quickly left her post to come to their aid without a single question asked, even after all three elves had contradicted her proposal and not even when both father and son had already called her bravery a perilous understatement for stubborness in different contexts.

All throughout the fight, Legolas instinctively looked after Tauriel and being aware of the fact that the captain's grief would hit the prince ten fold, Celine did her very best to watch over both elves' backs, especially Legolas'.

And in the process, she had lost the only being she loved and unconditionally reciprocated her affections in equal values.

It was when she was perched on top of one of the neighboring mountains, riding Luna and shooting arrows at all the orcs who threatened her comrades when she saw Borg, Azog's right hand, preparing to stab Kili with a large wooden stake.

Lavender eyes widened and the whole world seemed to stop for a moment as Celine gazed down below to see sorrow in Tauriel's entire being- a look Legolas would not want to see on her. It's not just that, but the undefended dwarf on the verge of being killed had already became one of her trusted confidantes. He's just about the only one who knew of her adoration for the prince and even though he found that out of accident, he never pried or forced her to tell the blond elf about it. All Kili ever did was listen, toss in useful words every now and then along with a couple of jokes that were meant and had always succeeded in cheering her up.

The thing about Celine is that she never let's anything happen to the few people she had grown extremely fond of, she'd protect them regardless of the costs.

And that she did. Hopping off Luna, she stared off into the distance, praying a silent plea to the great goddesses to guide her, to give her strength to protect all those who are dear to her.

"Luna, love. We're going to have to split up, okay?" She whispered sweetly as she caressed the furry creature and pressed her cheek just on that spot beside ice-blue irises and slitted pupils. The feeling of immense dread threatening to split her into two as the tiger purred and returned her embrace.

"Good girl~" she cooed and kissed it's forehead before nuzzling her nose against the tiger's, "I love you."

Even though she could never speak, Luna returned the words with the use of her eyes and a loving stroke of her head and her huge paws against her human. Celine knew exactly what it meant, word per word.

'I love you too. It's not your fault, you never had the choice. It doesn't mean that it made me think you love me less.'

That was the last time she saw her companion with it's lively eyes and taunting stature. Pristinely fine snow white fur always combed to perfection, slight charcoal black lines that decorated the expanse of her body in such an exquisite manner, a huge build that could support 4 riders all at once, depths of aquamarine irises and an adorably pink nose and tongue. Luna had always smelled of snow and cookie dough, which is quite unheard of for a tiger, but that didn't matter. It was almost more or less always Celine's fault whenever the beast resembles a treat by scent.

It was on the much more isolated part of the mountain far from the festivities of Erebor when she finally found her only kin. After hours and hours of scouring through different mountains after defeating Azog the defiler, she finally found her.

Although in a state that she frightfully never would've ever dreamed to see her in.

Regret welled up in salty heaps that flowed like waterfalls from her tired eyes as she stared down at her fallen friend. Oh how much did she wish she could just turn her head away from the stains of angry red and burnt ashes that tainted snow white fur, to tear her eyes from that despicable sword impaled on the once great tiger's noble chest. But she couldn't, could never do so when she was the cause of it all.

"It was all my fault... " the young priestess murmured, her voice cracking after repeating the same words for the nth time, helplessly hoping it would at least make the loss a bit more bearable even though she knew it wouldn't.

At the sight of no one, she dropped to her knees and weeped her heart out once more this time. Albeit now, one thing is clear: she no longer has anyone to share her woes with.

The midnight skies had never been so dark before, it was almost as if the stars themselves are sharing her heartbreak as they hid behind turbulent clouds allowing the incoming storm to come.

The notion of getting doused in the cold downpour didn't bother her the least, hoping that she could successfully drown in it as she laid there sprawled helplessly over her tiger, not once minding that she'll get blood and ashes on her clothes.

Celine stayed there. For as long as her heart needed, for once not minding the people that might go looking for her because why would she even need to be there anymore? They're safe, she's very much unneeded in the festivities taking place inside Erebor. Hardly doubts she'll even be able to lift her body from where she lay with the heavy feeling now successfully gnawing at her beaten heart.

Moments passed and the rain started pouring heavily, drenching the world below and pulling the young priestess further down the ground as she curled up into the fetal position that grew usual for both master and tiger and the apprentice could feel the coldness and loathsome presence of Death as it triumphantly stole that animal's welcoming warmth away from her.

She'd seen Death for more than a hundred times that day, but it never hit her as hard as it did that instant.

Dulling lilac hues fluttered shut, spent from all the crying she did that made up for all the times she'd kept her emotions to herself. Alone as she had always been yet never was, when Luna was still there.

Unlike now. A few pitiful hiccups escaped her rosy pink lips, gloved hands reaching up in an attempt to keep the noises to herself.

She never saw the clouds part to make way for the vivid light of the moon as it glowed upon her as if seeking to console her with its gentle pale rays of silver.

"My dear girl..." Lady Galadriel gently made her way towards the broken figure lying on the cold damp ground, reaching out to touch her novice's head before sitting down beside her, the mud not once staining her elegant robes.

Celine flinched at the sudden appearance of her mentor and quickly sat up to clear her eyes of tears and her face of the gore that had soiled her otherwise virginal skin,

"M-my lady, " she despises how her voice came out in a battered croak, "h-how surprising to find you here of all places..." She trailed off before looking around in search for some type of aversion before noticing the lady's garbs making contact with pools of murky waters that littered the dampened soil, "m-my lady! Your robes!" Celine quickly shuffled to her knees and rubbed off the dirt from her hands using her cloak before reaching out to grab the ends of the lady's dress.

Lady Galadriel lifted a mild hand up to halt her student from her abrupt panicking and held the hands that reached out to touch her clothes instead.

Lavender orbs involuntarily looked down at this, in fear that her mentor had already seen enough of her to tell that she could no longer take whatever hits the world was throwing her way. Afraid that she'd already see how much defeated and disheartened she was in such a state as this that the lady would just recall her back to Lothlorien and would finally appoint her as nothing more but a temple-maiden instead.

The lady of light of course saw through all of the young girl's uncertainties, and even though she chose not to speak of it, she knows that this brave and young little heart needed all the words of encouragement it could have this very moment,

"My darling Celine, do you know what it was that I saw in you back when you were young that I easily allowed you to go on this journey without so much as a second thought?" The lady asked, covering both of the younger one's hands in both of hers, lowering them so that it settled on the space in between them. Celine only remained silent, shaking her head a 'no', because she couldn't see anything special in herself.

This triggered the lady's melodic chuckle as her eyes shone brighter than the sun and she held her cold hands tighter before she answered, fondly -as if the young girl is her own and she was a proud mother staring into her daughter's eyes-

"It was because the moon and the stars had blessed you with such a pure and brave heart capable of selfless love to such an extent that it had already become a fault. Such a blessedly unsought fault that the world greatly needs yet overlooks both at the same time." She squeezes her child's hands before letting go to reach up and touch one reddened tear-stained cheek, her thumb lightly brushing the salty trails off.

Celine couldn't even find the force to act surprised at this, of course her mentor knew, she always does. But that doesn't mean she wouldn't ask,

"You knew?" And she finds herself completely against the idea of saying the exact thing that bothers her and so she decided to be vague, even though she knew that the lady of light would easily see through her.

A mischievous little smile crept it's way across the lady's thin lips as she spoke in quite a knowing tone,

"About your attachment to the Prince of Mirkwood? Of course I do. Your soul is that of a wanderer and you never stayed at a single location for more than a week yet you took a month in Thranduil's kingdom. If it would not be because of the prince then I would be forced to think your heart was helplessly ensnared by the king himself, although I heavily doubt that since as much as he is a fine and fair ellon he could be quite... Unconventionally detached." Galadriel finished, having difficulties describing the latter without meaning to be rude, especially in front of her student.

Seeing her student's mood brighten a little bit as a discreet little blush threatened to color her pale cheeks once more, she decided to press her luck, "although, you must know that I am not entirely erasing the possibility. The king is, after all, a pleasant sight for tired eyes." She winks.

A tiny smile made it's way across the younger girl's chapped lips as she shook her head, "if I had not known of your marriage with Lord Celeborn I'd think you've taken a rather indiscreet liking to the Elvenking, my lady."

The revered elf queen nodded her head of pristine and silken tumbles of blond waves, "indeed, but we both know you are wiser than that, my child. It is more likely you than me. Long blond hair, piercing blue eyes, mercurial personality -that seems to be your type." She chuckled and brought her apprentice's broken form within the confines of her healing embrace.

She didn't even know how it happened but Lady Galadriel had, by some miracle, managed to coax her into participating in the celebration back in Erebor.

Finally coming to the conclusion that no amount of grief would bring her fallen comrade back, she decided that she could at least prevent further concern that her absence might arouse from the people, dwarves or perhaps a few elvish warriors whom she'd grown acquainted with during battle.

She wouldn't dare hope too much for Legolas to care about her missing if Tauriel was there.

The elleth could easily take her place.

What was she thinking, she doesn't even have a place in his heart to begin with. Not even in his mind.

And so, Celine found herself slowly walking towards the huge front gates of Erebor with the same heavy feeling forever stuck in the pit of her stomach.

[ To be continued in Chapter 2 ]

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icecubelotr44 · 5 years

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Clear and Present Danger (6/16)

Summary: Homicide detective Killian Jones has been searching for a way to bring Milah’s murderer to justice. There’s only one small problem: Robert Gold is the captain of the same homicide division. Enter Emma Swan, Internal Affairs investigator, looking into Gold’s shady dealings. Between the two of them, can they unravel the web of deals and lies that have gotten Gold to where he is?

Rated: T, for violence, some dark themes, angst, and whump (you expected different?

TW: character death, mention of past self-harm, fatal car accident, school hostage situation

Other ships: mentions past Millian in a good light, Outlaw Queen, Snowing

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @cocohook38 made the cover you can see above and on her blog here. Later in the story, she’s illustrated some key points to the fic and I can’t thank her enough for her work! Chapter Four’s art is HERE. Go show her some love!

Beta reader: @gusenitsaa took on this monster without probably knowing exactly what she was getting into (what do you mean 100,000 words?!) and any mistakes that you find are probably me being stubborn and ignoring her advice! Thank you!

A/N: Written as part of the 2018 Captain Swan Big Bang Challenge. You can catch up with all the other fics that are complete by following @captainswanbigbang and/or subscribing to the Group Collection on AO3 and/or the C2 on FFN. This is complete in 16 parts and will be posted every Sunday from now until its completion.

Take it away, It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Word count: ~ 6,450 (100k Total in 16 chapters)

From the beginning: AO3 / FFN

Current Chapter: ao3 | ffn

CHAPTER SIX: OBSTRUCTION OF JUSTICE

Killian sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning alone. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before - after he'd docked the Jolly, Emma had bolted for her car so fast he couldn't even wish her a good night. He wasn't sure what he'd done wrong. He'd thought… well, he'd thought that maybe they were making progress. That maybe she was starting to trust him.

This morning was starting out spectacularly. Liam had left again, before the sun rose and before even Killian was out of bed - a note on the fridge just said "Cabin, Call You" - and had apparently taken the last of the coffee with him. The line at Dunkin Donuts had been ridiculous, some woman and her fourteen kids (he might have been exaggerating) had all ordered a full breakfast and, he'd swear, lunch as well.

Then, he'd gotten to work only to find that somehow, the greasy substance he was waiting for results on had been mishandled and destroyed. No one in the lab could explain how it had happened, but the evidence had been lost and there was nothing he could do about it.

Now they were stuck in traffic. Not the normal, pull your hair out because no one knew how to drive between the hours of seven and nine am kind of traffic. No, it was the slow, torturous crawl of bottlenecked accident traffic. According to the scanner, some idiot had stopped short in front of a tractor trailer, possibly for a small animal, and two lanes had been shut down completely as a result.

While he was glad he wasn't on that particular detail, Killian just wanted to get to Cambridge. He had a feeling that whatever Belle French could tell them, it would be worth the trip. If anyone knew LeGume and what he was into that got him killed, it would be the secret girlfriend.

"Bloody hell," Robin muttered under his breath as the car next to them merged and cut them off. His fingers clenched spasmodically around the wheel as if he were going to strangle it. "Don't they see we're in a police car?"

Killian huffed out an annoyed laugh in sympathy "It's unmarked, remember. And I don't think it's the steering wheel's fault, mate."

Robin cut his glare over to Killian and narrowed his eyes further. Killian resisted the urge to grab the wheel himself, knowing Locksley was capable of driving distracted but not wanting to make the evening news anyway.

Local homicide officers exacerbate accident. Story at eleven.

Finally, Robin gave up trying to wring the frustration out of the wheel and sat back with a resigned sigh. They weren't getting anywhere fast. "Did I tell you that Roland got a gold star for sharing yesterday?"

Killian grinned. "And you and Regina were worried that being an only child would stunt his growth," he teased jovially.

Robin rolled his eyes. "Says the man with a brother."

"You can borrow him any time you'd like," Killian said as seriously as he was able.

Robin cut a glance at him, clearly in disbelief.

"Oh, thank God," Killian muttered under his breath when they finally made it past the orange cones and could pick up speed again. Robin agreed by stepping harder on the accelerator and blowing by the soccer mom who had cut them off.

"So what did Roland share that earned him a gold star and, I'm sure, an ice cream cone?" Killian smirked as Robin grinned proudly.

"He shared his new markers with a girl at his art table. Let her use his green one, even."

Green was quite plainly Roland's favorite color. Killian knew this as well as he knew that his eyes were blue and Liam was his older brother. It was just the way it was.

Robin continued to fill Killian in on Roland's progress in kindergarten as they wound their way north to Cambridge. They finally turned down Ms. French's street and, surprisingly for the way the morning had gone, found a parking spot not too far away.

"Detectives?" Ms. French met them at the door, one hand holding it open while the other flipped up to check her watch. They were much later than Robin had told her they'd be there.

"Yes, ma'am," Robin acknowledged, showing her his badge and introducing both of them. "May we come in?"

She nodded, stepping back into the entryway to allow them access. "You said this is about Gaston? I haven't spoken with him in… well, nearly a week now."

Killian ignored the clenching in his heart that came every time he had to notify kin. "We're very sorry to tell you, ma'am, but Mr. LeGume was found dead earlier this week."

She blanched immediately, and the less cynical side of Killian whispered that there was no faking that. Whatever else she did or didn't tell them, Belle hadn't known that her lover was dead.

Robin took her arm gently when she swayed, her hand covering her mouth to stifle a cry of shock. He helped her towards the couch in the front room, lowering her gently to sit as Killian moved into the kitchen where he found a still-steaming cup of tea. He filled a glass with water from the tap anyway and brought both back to her.

"Ma'am," Killian called gently when he crouched down next to Robin. She looked up to smile blankly at him, and the empty look in her eyes was so familiar that he nearly had to turn away.

"Call me Belle, please," she allowed, taking the cup of tea from him and cradling it in her hands. "I'm not that old yet."

Killian nodded, placing the glass on a coaster made to look like an old first-edition book cover. Treasure Island, he read. The whole room was filled with books - some in floor to ceiling shelves and some scattered on the coffee and side tables. It was a miniature library and Killian got the feeling that it wasn't just for show. For one thing, the books were well cared for - but also well worn. There was no dust on the bookcases; she clearly took pride in each one.

"I don't know what I can tell you," she admitted. "Gaston and I… we talked about books. We went out up on the North Shore where we wouldn't be recognized. We didn't… he didn't talk about anything else."

Killian got the feeling that LeGume didn't do much talking at all, if the way Belle's cheeks grew red as she turned introspective were any indication. He remembered those early days with Milah. "You didn't want to be recognized? Or he didn't?" he tried.

Belle grimaced. "It was more of a mutual agreement. It wouldn't be good for him to be seen with a student, even if I weren't being graded by him. And I-" she cut herself off with a shake of her head and covered by taking a gulp of tea. It was clearly still too hot, and she nearly choked. Her eyes started to water and once that dam was broken, it was as if she'd given herself permission to grieve. Tears came fast and hard, though she was surprisingly silent.

Killian looked guiltily away, unable to handle the young woman's grief. It hadn't been so long ago that he'd been the same way: trying to put on a front when all he wanted to do was collapse into himself and break.

He might have done so irreparably if Liam and Robin and the Nolans hadn't held him together with superglue, duct tape, and chocolate chip cookies. Mary Margaret's cookies were to die for.

Some days, he still felt like he might just shatter, and even the world's fastest jigsaw-er wouldn't be able to fit all the pieces into the puzzle.

"I'm sorry," Belle managed a few moments later, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief she'd produced out of thin air, it seemed. "I know that you're busy trying to find out what happened, but I just-"

"No need to apologize, ma'am," Robin soothed, reaching out to take the mug away when her fingers slackened around it. "I know this must come as a bit of a shock."

Belle laughed daintily, but it rang hollow and the smile that crossed her face was pained at best. "A bit," she parroted wryly and Robin had the good grace to look chagrined.

"An unfortunate turn of phrase," he apologized.

Belle nodded her acceptance of this, but remained otherwise silent. Killian took the opportunity to sidle out of the room and look around the main floor. There were more books scattered haphazardly about - all well-loved and clearly taken care of, but within reach instead of on display. It looked like Belle would wander her home reading and leave the book wherever she was when she finished.

For all of the books that she owned, Belle had very few photographs adorning her walls. There were a few of her in various locations across the world, but she was alone in each shot.

"I've always loved traveling," she said quietly from behind Killian, but it still made him jump.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, placing down the copy of Oliver Twist that he'd picked up somewhere in his search. "I just-"

Belle smiled. "You were doing your job, Detective. I don't blame you for that. Do you read much?" she asked, nodding her head towards the book in front of him.

"My brother used to read this to me when we were kids," Killian allowed. "I'm afraid I don't read as much as I'd like to, anymore, though."

"None of us do."

Killian couldn't argue with that. He smiled politely and followed Belle back to where Robin was still looking contrite. They spoke for a while longer, but it was clear that the young woman's mind wasn't focused on the conversation any longer.

"If you think of anything else, Ms. French, here's my card. Please call," Killian finally allowed her an out which she took with alacrity. She snatched the card from him before looking sheepish, but ushered them towards the door anyway.

Killian would never figure out why they hadn't seen the photo on the way into the apartment. It wasn't like it was hidden, or something they wouldn't have noticed.

It was a picture of Belle, in front of Quincy Market, with Gold's arms wrapped around her from behind. They were both smiling into the camera, taken from such a low angle that it could only have been shot by a child.

"You know Captain Gold?" Killian asked before he could think better of it.

Robin's head whipped around and followed Killian's gaze to the photo.

"You mean Robert?" Belle asked offhandedly, something almost chilling in her tone.

Killian nodded slowly, the disharmony ringing in his ears over seeing his tormentor looking so happy with his arms around a woman who wasn't Milah. He looked so happy; they both looked so goddamned happy while Milah had been so miserable. Killian didn't understand. "When" - he cleared his throat - "when was this taken?"

"Oh, about three years ago."

Gold had still been married to Milah.

Killian was going to tear him apart. There wasn't a dark enough hellhole to drop him in. There weren't enough Hellhounds in the underworld to torment him. There wasn't-

Robin said something that Killian didn't catch, but it was enough distraction for him to mutter a strangled, "Thank you for your help," before nearly sprinting out the door.

The bright light of the sun assaulted him, making him blink rapidly to keep the tears out of his eyes. From the sun. Of course. Not because the bastard had been cheating on Milah for who knew how long and had spent all of that time castigating her for finding happiness with him.

"You all right, mate?" Robin asked a few minutes later, coming up to stand next to Killian so that they were shoulder to shoulder looking down the street. Killian wasn't seeing any of it.

The first time Milah had come to him, tears in her eyes and a stubborn look on her face, she hadn't told him what Gold had said to her. She'd muttered that she didn't want to talk about it, that it didn't matter; they were all that mattered to her and she'd go to Hell and back before she'd allow her husband to ruin the freedom she found with Killian. For his part, Killian had held her close and promised her the world - he'd have moved mountains or fled to the most remote corner of the world he could find if only she'd ask.

He thought she'd have done it, too, if it wasn't for her son. Killian had met the boy a few times, heard plenty of stories about "Bae"and his adventures in the Neverlands and Enchanted Forests in their backyard. But if there was one thing he knew as well as the fact that Milah loved him, it was that Robert Gold loved his son to an unhealthy degree. They'd never wrest the boy from his father's grasp and Milah would never truly leave him behind.

So Killian had settled. He'd accepted his relationship with her for what it was, loved her for the love she had for her son, and made do with the time that was given to him.

"Aye," he finally lied to Robin, squaring his shoulders and opening the car door. "Let's just get back to the station before we hit any more bloody traffic."

Emma couldn't believe it. She was looking at the results herself and she couldn't believe it. She'd found the note buried in one of Jones's files on the boat weeks ago and had tucked it in her pocket to ask him about later. He'd been dismissive, but the threat had stuck with her: LET THIS GO IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU. On a whim, she'd had it dusted for prints at an independent lab. Now, she finally had the results and she couldn't wrap her mind around it.

Detective Nottingham.

She didn't know the man well, just well enough to dislike him, but he didn't seem the type to stick his neck where it didn't belong. Still, a threat to a police officer wasn't something to be taken lightly and when Emma had questioned him, he'd been straightforward and succinct.

"Yeah, I put it on Jones's car. Bugger doesn't deserve the shield he carries." Nottingham had shrugged then and leaned back in his chair, as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Yanked the battery wire, too. Thought about… well, never mind."

Emma blinked. And then blinked again. "You're… admitting to threatening a police officer?" she asked incredulously.

He nodded succinctly, smirking at her.

"Tell me who put you up to this," she tried, sure that he'd never have admitted to it so smugly if he'd done it on his own.

A look of fear crossed his features before it was carefully masked behind the arrogance once more. "Don't know what you're talking about," he deflected - almost convincingly.

"Of course you do," Emma tried again. "The investigation into LeGume hasn't turned up any leads that would tie him to you; you had no reason to threaten Lieutenant Jones. Whoever put you up to it must have wanted the detective to look the other way. Someone told you to put that note on his car. Someone told you to destroy the evidence Jones found at the scene."

She thought that adding in that second charge would throw him off balance. Evidence tampering was much harder to wave off than what ended up being an empty threat to a fellow officer.

Nottingham just shrugged. "Nope. Just me. Thought losing the evidence would get him booted. What are you going to do about it?"

Emma read him his rights.

It was only when she finished that he began to splutter, rising to his feet with a look of utter disbelief as she cinched handcuffs around his wrists and led him to a cell. He didn't fight her, per se, but he wasn't willingly ambling along either. Emma thought about securing him in with the rest of the detainees overnight while she processed his paperwork, but wanted to make sure everything went by the book. So, a cell to himself, it was.

The clang of the jail cell slamming shut seemed to flip the switch in Nottingham, as if he had begun to realize that whoever his benefactor was - and Emma didn't need to pass a detective's exam to guess who it was - he wasn't coming to the rescue. Nottingham stalked the length of the cell, muttering under his breath the entire time, looking up every once in awhile before sulking to the back corner and starting his circuit again.

Emma needed to go fill out all the paperwork, but she was transfixed by the pattern Nottingham was making. Was he really willing to sacrifice himself rather than give up Gold?

"Thank you for taking out the trash as it were," Gold praised as he appeared behind her out of nowhere. Emma refused to jump, though he'd startled her. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye with a sneer. His eyes never left the scene playing out in front of them, Nottingham pacing behind the bars of the cell like a caged wolf.

Emma turned to face him, not willing to watch the scapegoat any longer. "You're not getting away with this," she promised, seething.

"Actually, I am." Gold smirked and leaned forward a bit. "I think you'll find that all your evidence conveniently points to Nottingham. Won't find a thing to tie me to any of this. I'm going to walk away from this with clean hands."

He was right. The bastard was right and there wasn't anything Emma could do to change it.

But that didn't mean she wasn't going to try. "That's not gonna happen," she assured herself more than threatened him. Emma had dealt with her fair share of bullies growing up. He was just another one.

"I like your confidence," Gold admitted with a disarming smile. Emma saw why Jones called him a crocodile, with all his teeth proudly glinting in the fluorescent lighting. "It's charming. But it doesn't change the fact that I win again."

Emma snarled. "You know I'm going to figure this out. I'm willing to roll the dice. Follow whatever bread crumbs I have to to finish this. And when I do, who knows what might come out about you in the process. Somehow I suspect there is more to you than a simple Homicide captain. You really want to start that fight?"

Gold grinned, but Emma could see the flicker of unease that he was trying to hide. It was gone an instant later, but Emma had seen it and that was all that mattered.

Gold's days were numbered.

"I like you, Ms. Swan," he blustered. "You're not afraid of me, and that's either cocky or presumptuous. Either way, I'd rather have you finish your investigation and get out of my precinct."

He walked away before Emma could get another word in. She shuddered with the need to do something. She was sure that Nottingham had been the one to threaten Jones and impede his investigation into LeGume's murder; he'd admitted it and he wasn't lying. But he wasn't the type to do it on his own.

No, Emma would have to dig deeper if she was going to figure out what Gold had on the officer, but she would find it and once she did, she'd use it herself to flip Nottingham on his leash-holder. With nothing else to do with or for Nottingham, Emma turned resolutely away and stomped back to her desk.

She nearly screeched when a hand darted out from the stairway and tugged her inside. Killian grabbed her wrist before she could punch him in the face, using his size to crowd her back against the wall and out of sight from the rest of the precinct.

"What the hell, Jones!" she hissed vehemently, wriggling and trying to get free.

Killian smirked, not hurting her, but clearly using his height advantage to stop her from getting free. "You want to calm down, darling?" he asked, a hint of something sharp in his tone.

Emma stomped on his instep, not hard enough to do any real damage, but enough to make him yelp and let her go.

"Bloody hell, woman," he whined, one hand pushed against her shoulder to keep her in place while the other reached in vain for his injured foot.

"Let. Me. Go!" Emma ordered, reaching threateningly for his pinky finger.

Killian gingerly put his foot down and made a show of taking his hand off her shoulder. "What did Gold want? Are you all right?" he finally asked.

Emma blinked. That was what all of this was for? "Are you kidding me right now? I thought we agreed that the less people see of us together, the better.

Killian shrugged and Emma wanted to be annoyed. She did. Half of the evidence they were able to compile on Gold had remained untainted because Killian wasn't connected with her. And she wasn't connected with him. But he looked so sincere and goddamned endearing that it was a struggle to keep the smile from escaping.

"I'm fine, Jones," she assured him softly, reaching out to lay her hand on his chest. What the hell are you doing? she thought before yanking her hand back like she'd been burned. "He was just spewing nonsense about how he's going to get away with everything. The arrogance…"

Emma could see the frustration and… was that resignation on Jones's face?

"We'll get him, Swan," Killian vowed, shaking away whatever Emma had seen in his eyes. "We have to. I have to. For Milah."

"Get out of my bloody way!" he shouts, trying to push past the two men holding him back. "That's my… that's… I need…"

God, he doesn't know what he needs. To start the day over? To be in the car with her? To get to her side, hold her hand, pretend that he was there in her last moments?

All of the above?

He knows it's too late; he heard the call for the medical examiner on the way across the city, lights and sirens blaring even though he knew he'd be suspended for it. She's already gone and there's nothing he can do about it.

But he still needs to get to her side.

"Liam!" he shouts, catching sight of his brother with a notepad and pen. "Liam, tell them to let me through!"

Killian watches as his brother looks up, can see the regret etched across Liam's face even from this far away. It's not grief there, no of course it isn't. Liam has never approved of what his little brother has gotten involved in. But Killian knows his brother isn't heartless, either. Not even his misgivings about the situation would stand in the way of-

"You can't be here, little brother," Liam says, but the words don't make any sense.

Killian shakes his head, not understanding. "Liam, I have to…"

"You have to go, Killian. You can't be here, right now. The scene-"

"I don't care a bloody whit about the scene, Liam!" he shouts, struggling against the other men still holding him back. "I need to get to her. Brother, please."

Milah is right there, still sitting in the car as though waiting for the tree to pull up its roots and move out of her way. He can't see her face, but he can see her hair, the curls blowing in the breeze. Bloody hell, he couldn't even count the number of times they'd driven down to the Cape and he'd spent half of the ride spitting her hair out of his mouth. It was all about freedom, she'd told him time and time again. She felt like she could breathe when she was with him, so the last thing she wanted to do was restrict her hair.

"I'm sorry, Killian, you know I can't-" Liam's head snaps to the side as Killian's knuckles collide with his cheek. Blood drips from a cut that one of his rings left behind.

Killian almost feels bad. Almost.

"Some bloody brother, you are," Killian hisses, yanking his other arm free from the officer and stepping back. He wants his brother to hit him back, wants to fight with someone - anyone - so he doesn't have to concentrate on-

"I know you don't mean that," Liam says calmly, pulling out a handkerchief to blot at the blood before it can sully his crime scene. That's all it is to him, Killian realizes, just another case.

"Liam," he pleads, "I have to see her. I don't care what the rules are."

"But I do," Liam insists, ducking under the tape and trying to pull Killian away.

Killian resists, tearing his brother's hand off his shoulder and spinning away from him, trying once again to get to her car.

"Killian, listen to me. You can't help her, not anymore. All you're going to do is give Gold an excuse to implicate you."

Killian freezes, but only for a moment. "You think my fingerprints, my DNA isn't all over that car? I'm already going to be a suspect, you bloody moron. What difference does it make?"

Liam takes a step back, the look on his face some combination of brotherly horror and resignation. "I'm sorry, little brother," he tries again.

"No! Liam, you have to-" he cuts himself off, shoving Liam aside and storming through the tape.

Liam grabs him one more time and Killian swings again, red coloring his vision as he gives in to the fiery anger coursing through him. He doesn't know how many times he hits his brother before he's lying facedown on the ground, Locksley's knee in his back and handcuffs around his wrists.

"No! Liam, no, don't do this! Robin, let me go!" he keeps shouting, not noticing nor caring how many eyes from the precinct are on him. Not caring about how all of this is going to get back to Gold. Let him know how much Killian still… will always love Milah. Let him see what Gold should have felt about her.

Robin doesn't move as Liam kneels next to Killian's head. Killian forces his head back, arching his neck so that he can glare at his brother. Liam is bleeding from the nose now, his left eye already swelling.

"I hate you," Killian hisses. "I hate you and I wish-"

"Don't say something you'll regret later, little brother. I already forgive you," Liam says gently. "Robin's going to get you out of here before someone decides to-"

"I hate you," Killian hisses again, but the fight is leaching out of him as quickly as it came. Even his anger isn't enough to get him out of handcuffs.

Liam nods sadly, but motions to Locksley and moves to help stand Killian up. They frog march him back to the squad car and fold him into the backseat, both ignoring the threats and the callous remarks he throws their way.

"I'm sorry I have to leave you with him like this," Liam apologizes to Robin and it just ramps the anger right back up. Liam has been apologizing for him all their lives; Killian hates it now even more than he had growing up. "I wish I could-"

"Captain Gold is already gunning for him, sir," Locksley interrupts. Their words are muffled through the window, but Killian can still hear them. "We don't need you getting in trouble, too. I'll take care of him."

"I know you will, mate. Here, I don't know if he has the keys with him." Liam hands over a set of keys, wincing when Killian's shoulder hits the glass. Killian glares at him when he bends down to make sure he didn't hurt himself. "Take him to the marina, see if you can't get him inside. I'll be along as soon as I can get away."

Killian doesn't even wait for Robin to shut the driver's door before he lays into him. He keeps screaming as they pull away from the scene.

Away from Milah.

"Where'd you go, Jones?" Emma asked softly, drawing his attention from where he was staring a hole in the wall back to her. The haunted look in his eyes frightened her; men who looked like that were unpredictable when it came to their crusades.

Captain Gold and his eventual downfall was definitely a crusade.

But Killian just shook his head as if clearing the cobwebs and grinned disarmingly at her. It didn't reach his eyes. "Nowhere fun," was all the answer he'd give.

Emma didn't need him to tell her - she could read him like an open book. She wondered how many times a month… or week… or day Killian relived Milah's death. He'd never told her the story, but officer reports put him at the scene soon after her official time of death. Emma could put two and two together.

"Look, Killian, I get it. I can't even begin to imagine what it's been like for you, working under him every day while you know what he did to her. But we've got to be smart about this. We-"

"You think I don't know that?"

Emma stared for a moment. "What part of 'we can't be associated with each other' did you miss, then?"

He shrugged. "No one's paying attention. I just…" he trails off, scratching behind his ear. It was a tell if ever Emma saw one.

"You just what?" she prompted beseechingly.

But Killian didn't answer. The slam of a door somewhere above him echoed through the stairwell and was followed by thudding footsteps.

"Go home, Jones," Emma hissed to avoid being heard by whomever was above them. "I promise I'll steer clear of Gold and his fancy words if you'll be a little more careful about being seen with me."

Killian nodded, slipping silently down the stairs before whoever was coming saw him. When he was gone, Emma slumped back against the wall and let out the breath she'd been holding for what felt like ever.

"Afternoon, ma'am," Henry Mills called out when he stepped onto the stairs just above her. "Can I help you with something?"

The sheer feeling of relief that overtook her seeing it was Nolan's rookie rather than one of Gold's lackeys surprised her. Would it really kill her case if someone saw her and Jones talking? No. She'd done fine without him before all this and she would do fine when this case was over and they were back to separate departments. So why the concern?

A niggling feeling at the back of Emma's mind told her she already knew the answer, but didn't want to admit it to anyone - least of all, herself.

"Ma'am?" Mills questioned again when Emma was silent for too long.

She nodded. "I could use some help pulling Nottingham's files," she began.

"Sure!" the rookie practically beamed at the idea of helping her. No one would bat an eye at the kid working with her, so the question remained.

Why is it different with Jones?

Hours later, Emma and Henry had pulled dozens of cases that Nottingham had closed. One thing was certain, though no one seemed to like the man, he was effective in what he did. The problem was, there were too many complaints sandwiched between the successful cases for Emma to even begin to decipher where Gold's interference came into play.

"Thank you, Henry," she said sincerely after making her last copy of the day. She was exhausted and even the rookie's exuberance had waned with the passing hours. The poor kid looked as dead on his feet as she felt.

"No problem," he replied tiredly, slamming the last filing cabinet drawer closed and pushing the lock button. He tossed her the keys, nodding his head towards the officer who was waiting to log them out. "You want to take care of 'Grumpy' over there?"

Emma bit back a smirk. "I'll handle him. You get out of here."

He grinned gratefully before slipping past the surly officer with a nod. Emma watched him go before squaring her shoulders and heading out the same way.

"It's about time, sister!" the officer growled as he snatched the keys from her. "Some of us got better things to do than wait around for you IA rats to burrow into the past."

Emma just raised an eyebrow. "I'll be back tomorrow," she promised, determined to find some kind of link.

Leroy - according to the name tag that had seen better days - just scowled. "Fine, fine. Just try not to stay so late, huh?"

Emma whipped her head around to find the clock behind his desk.

11:45pm.

No wonder the little man was pissed. Emma's stomach voiced its own protest at her long hours, the bear claw she'd had for lunch long since forgotten. She tried to look a little sheepish to mollify the officer, but he just glared and turned away. Taking the dismissal for what it was, Emma beat it out of there, determined to keep going until she'd crossed the threshold of her apartment and found her bed.

The squad room was nearly deserted as she passed by, only a few angry eyes watching her progress as she walked, head held high. She barely stopped at her desk to grab her bag before walking calmly for the elevator.

The night air was cool on her face and she paused for a second to soak it in. Boston may be filled with city air and city sounds, but it was home. She loved the bustle and the smell, the history and the modern melding into one culture that filled the city with whatever someone wanted to find. It was all there, waiting to be explored.

Her stomach growled again and Emma amended her earlier resolve to head straight home. If she hurried, she could get to Downtown Crossing and find something to eat that wasn't freezer burned or past its expiration date. Sleep could wait; her stomach couldn't.

Footsteps. Damnit.

Emma rolled her eyes as she turned the corner into the same alleyway where she'd first threatened Jones all those weeks ago. It was late, she was tired, and she'd honestly thought that he'd left the station hours ago. She was glad that Killian had taken her edict seriously and he wasn't trying to corner her in the office again, but whatever he wanted could wait until tomorrow. On the boat. After she'd had some sleep.

"For the love of God, can't you take a hint?" she asked testily, whirling around to face him.

Emma was still speaking when the fist ploughed into her face and sent her sprawling. "What the-" was all she could get out around the vice that gripped her chest when the wall behind her knocked the wind out of her.

Not Jones, her brain helpfully informed her a split second before someone's billy club sliced through the night air. Emma only just managed to duck away, the hard rod impacting her shoulder blade rather than her neck - her assailant's intended target. The blow still stunned her, making Emma stumble and throw one hand out to steady herself against the wall. The other reached for the knife she always kept in her pocket, needing something - anything - to protect her.

She rued the fact that she didn't carry her gun on a daily basis.

The familiar icy feeling of the metal grip pushed back some of the fear from being attacked. Emma harnessed the adrenaline as she'd been trained and spun on her heel to face her attacker.

Attackers.

There were three men circled around her, masks on their faces that made them look like they'd come straight off a B-movie set.

"Who are you, the Three Stooges? It gonna take all three of you to take down little old me?" Emma snarked, eyeing the badges clipped to their belts.

Cops.

Gold's men.

None of them were small enough to be Isaac, but Emma couldn't worry about their identities now. Stringbean and R2-D2 stepped back and she turned to face her third attacker head on. She ducked and slashed when the beefiest of the three took a swing at her, trying to grab her jacket. He pulled back with a howl, clutching his hand where blood oozed out. A painful wound, but not enough to slow him down, she catalogued automatically.

Keep track of all targets, it may save your life, her training echoed in her thoughts.

It was easier said than done. They came at her all at once, ducking and weaving around her own strikes and trying their best to catch hold of her. Emma wasn't aware of the damage they were inflicting at the time, her fight or flight response far too well engaged to notice trivial things like pain.

And then she was very aware of the lightning strike of pain at the base of her skull. One of the bastards had caught hold of her hair and yanked her off balance. Another trapped her arm under his and pried the knife from her desperately clenched fingers.

"What are you, seventh grade girls?" she managed to mutter before Beefy slammed his fist into her solar plexus, driving every last bit of air from her lungs.

Gasping and choking, Emma could do little more than go limp as Stringbean shoved her face-first into the brick wall. Her head hit the wall with a resounding thump and Emma slid down in spite of her best attentions.

R2-D2 began to kick at her and Emma pulled herself into as small of a ball as she could manage, wincing each time he connected with her ribs and biting back the tears - of pain and frustration both - until she could find an opening to regain her footing.

It never came.

Emma howled when Stringbean stomped on her hand, something underneath it shredding her palm open. He didn't give her the opportunity to pull it protectively into her chest, just stood with all his weight on it before hauling back and kicking her in the head with his other foot.

"Get your ass out of our house, bitch," was the last thing she heard before blackness closed in around her.

tagging: @killian-whump, @gilliangrissom, @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable

#csbb #cs ff #cs fic #ouat ff #ouat fic

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