#oh killian

“Kid? Uh, you can come in, and we can talk about this,” Emma said, looking back at Killian to make sure he was decent. He nodded to her.

Henry traipsed in, dropping his bag inside the doorway and looking around the apartment. He seemed nonchalant, seeing no need for formality or standing on ceremony. Spotting Killian, he smiled and waved. “Hi, I’m Henry. Who are you?”

“Er, Killian. Killian Jones.” He was doing his best not to gape at the lad, but was failing rather miserably.

“Oh. Are you my birth mom’s husband? Or boyfriend?”

Killian gawked at him, speechless. “Erm…”

Henry’s eyes widened. “Are you my dad?!”

“No!” he blurted out and then started again, “Um, no. No.”He worked at tucking his shirt in, his fingers tangling in his belt loop as he tried to avoid looking at the boy. As he straightened, he nearly tripped over his own feet. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt this out of sorts, but he probably hadn’t been much older than Henry.

Emma cut in, praise be to all the gods. “Killian’s a good friend. But, kiddo--Henry, I need to know--why do you think I’m your mother?”

“Well, I was given up for adoption as a baby. In Phoenix, Arizona. And you were there in jail at the same time, and you gave up a baby for adoption. It just makes sense,” he said calmly. His hazel eyes stared up at Emma, hope radiating from him.

She bit her lip, clearly at a loss and Killian stared at her, flabbergasted at all the things he clearly hadn’t learned about her. She definitely hadn’t mentioned a stint in jail, but she wasn’t denying it to the boy right now.

Jesus, they had a lot to talk about. But later, when her son (god, her son) wasn’t here in the thick of it.

Emma gestured for Henry to sit in the chair Killian knew was her favorite. He smiled briefly, thinking of her talking about her writing chair earlier in the evening, the leather already a little worn from frequency of use. “I got it with my first royalty check, and it took over my old apartment. But it’s where I do most of my writing, and I love it. It just seems...writerly, you know?” she had mused while they had sat at dinner.

She tugged him back into the moment, reaching for his hand and pulling him down beside her onto the couch. He squeezed her hand lightly, trying to convey his support. Whatever happened with their discussion later, he knew she needed his support now--and he would give it.

“So, Henry, you found out I meet a lot of the criteria your birth mother had. Because you’re right, I was in jail in Phoenix eleven years ago, and I did give a baby up for adoption. But how did you find me? Those records were sealed.”

Henry looked sheepish, his eyes darting to the side as he fidgeted. “Oh. Um. I...might have borrowed my mom’s credit card? There was a website and P.I., and well, it led to you.” Henry shrugged and settled further back into the chair. “Especially with who my mom is, you weren’t hard to find.”

Killian cleared his throat, finally finding his words. “Especially with who your mum is? Who is your mother?” He wracked his brain, trying to think who Henry’s mother could be. He knew something, he just couldn’t quite call it to mind.

“Regina Mills,” he said without a change in his upbeat tone. It was all so...guileless. “I think she’s your boss or something? That’s why it was so easy to find you.”

He and Emma exchanged panicked glances. Shit. Shit shit shit. Regina Mills. The founder of Mills & Booth. She preferred to work from home--which was apparently a small town in Maine. The impression Killian had gotten of her, while not unfavorable, had been of a no-nonsense woman. A hardass, even. An incredibly competent and successful one, but if she had a softer side, he hadn’t seen it. He had wondered for a moment when Henry had introduced himself, but while he had met with Regina enough to know her, he knew little else. Someone had once mentioned she had a son, but no age or other identifiers. And Mills wasn’t exactly a rare surname. Was it really her?

Killian wasn’t quite sure what this was, but he knew it wasn’t good.

Emma gripped his hand harder, and her breathing became more unsteady and more pronounced. “Henry...Regina Mills, of Mills & Booth, is your mother?

“Yep. She adopted me when I was a baby.”

“Does she...does she know you’re here?”

Henry focused his attention on his shoes. “Umm...probably not?”

“Shi-shoot! Uh, buddy, we’re going to have to call her and let her know where you are.”

Henry clenched his jaw. “Why? I don’t want to, and you’re my mom. And she probably won’t notice anyway.”

Killian felt Emma stiffen and shrink back into the couch and into his side. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but she clearly needed the comfort of his touch. He squeezed her hand as she took a deep breath and shook her head. “No, Henry, she’s probably freaking out. And...I may have given birth to you, but legally, Regina is your mom. If the police got involved, I could be arrested for kidnapping.”

The boy’s face fell. Killian felt for the lad, he really did, but Emma was beyond right--this was a dicey situation. He held back the urge to let out a hysterical, manic laugh. How...how did he end up here?

Things were so fragile right now, between the newness of whatever was between him and Emma and August’s not-so-subtle threats. On a purely selfish note, he had no desire to get involved in this situation, which could so easily turn hairy.

But then he saw Emma’s face, reflecting many of his fears and a few of her own, along with something shattered and broken that she was very clearly trying to hide. He glanced at Henry, taking in his mop of brown hair and the way he had pulled his feet up on Emma’s chair and pulled his knees up to his chest. Henry was only a boy. A misguided one, who clearly had no idea of the potential ramifications of what he’d done. Killian wasn’t sure what was going on his life, but he could see how miserable he was right now.

Killian just had no idea what, if anything, he should be saying. He wasn’t sure he belonged in this odd tableau.

Emma was still gripping his hand. Well, at least someone wanted him here, at least on a subconscious level. He subtly lifted her hand to his lips, brushing what he hoped was a comforting kiss across her knuckles.

She shot him a small smile before turning back to Henry. His shoulders were slumped, defeat evident in every line of his body.

“Hey, kid...Henry? We’ll get it figured out. You and your mom live in Maine, right?”

“Yeah.” The monosyllabic reply was almost sullen.

“Okay, well, unless you’re hiding a private airplane, we’re probably not going to be able to get you back until tomorrow anyway.”

(A small, exasperated voice in Killian’s head rudely whispered, well, you’re most certainly not getting laid now. Which, while undoubtedly true, was hardly the point given current events. Fortunately, most of his brain was on board with the change in plans, responding to its other, crasser side with a quick, shove off, you randy prick.)

“Actually, how did you get here anyway?”

“Oh, um,” Henry said, averting his gaze and shifting in the chair. “Remember how I said I took my mom’s credit card that one time? It may not have just been the one time. I used it to pay for a bus ticket after school, and I told Mom I was going to a friend’s house for the night.”

Emma let out a low whistle and shook her head. “Jesus, kid.”

Killian tried to hold back his laugh. No one was going to accuse Henry of lacking gumption, that was certain. Though from the quelling look Emma shot him, he hadn’t succeeded entirely.

He made a zipping motion across his face. “Right, not saying a word.”

Henry cracked a smile at him before turning and looking expectantly at Emma.

She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath, sighing in exasperation. “Okay, so I do still have to call Regina and let her know you’re here. That’s non-negotiable, but as for the rest, if she doesn’t ask, I won’t tell her.”

“Cool!”

“Um, Henry? Can you help me out?” she asked, pointing to her phone. “I don’t have her personal number or anything.”

“Oh, sure.”

&&&

Killian took the opportunity to go freshen up in the bathroom while Emma called Regina.

Good lord, what a night. He splashed some cold water onto his face, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He was a mess, and he should rejoice that Henry was clearly sheltered enough not to notice the mark Emma had left on his neck. (Or perhaps the lad was just too polite.)

Killian was definitely frustrated. It was clear he and Emma wouldn’t be going any further this evening, even if Henry could somehow find a way home. The mood hadn’t just been killed, it had been obliterated. If he were being honest with himself, though, he knew they should probably slow down. It wasn’t that long ago that they were at each other’s throats, and there was still the book he was meant to edit for her.

But god, he wanted her. He pushed aside the physical discomfort of his thwarted arousal, though, needing to focus on something else.

Emma had a son. A son.

One she’d not told him about. While he was busy telling her his life story, his past woes, she’d kept a massive secret. And not just one--apparently, she’d also neglected to mention she’d been in jail at one point.

He let out a deep, pent-up breath.

Clearly, she had her reasons for keeping those secrets. (He should know, considering his own secrets he was keeping.) How she’d managed to keep them from the public while she stepped into the limelight, though, he had no idea. Judging by Henry’s age and a couple of Emma’s comments, she must have been young when she was pregnant and in prison. Young enough that she could have been in a juvenile detention facility, her records now sealed and possibly expunged.

And suddenly, he was hit by the horror of it.

She would have been little more than a child when she gave birth to Henry, and under heinous circumstances. The road that had taken her there, the people responsible for it, they made him want to punch something. Killian knew his rage at the past, at circumstances beyond his control, might be futile, but it burned away the hurt at her keeping things from him.

He decided then that he needed to be next to Emma, needed to show her that whatever happened, she had his support. That whatever happened, he was so proud and amazed that she had managed to become such a wonderful woman.

&&&

When Killian emerged, Emma acknowledged him with a nod. She wearily pulled extra bedding out of the laundry room off the hall. He could hear the sound of Henry shifting around on a stool at the kitchen island, could smell the warm scent of the hot cocoa he was drinking, his slurps echoing through the open living area.

“Regina didn’t answer, so I left a message,” she said with a small shrug and pushed the room’s door closed. “At any rate, Henry’s getting pretty sleepy, so I was thinking of putting him on the couch for tonight, or until she gets back to me.”

He nodded back, uncertainty creeping up in him. Emma was tense again, clearly worried and probably confused. He approached her tentatively, she stood with her back to him, her stance ruler-straight and stiff. When he brushed his hand between her shoulder blades, she sagged and leaned back into him.

“I don’t know what to do.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?”

“That’s putting it lightly,” she said, a strangled laugh escaping her.

“What can I do?”

She bit her lip, twisting her neck and looking up at him apologetically. “Sorry, but we’re going to have to put tonight’s plans on hold. I’m sure we have a whole bunch more things to talk about, but…”

“Now definitely isn’t the time.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Emma?” He gave her a small smile.

“Yeah?”

“For what it’s worth, though I haven’t known you long, I can’t imagine you failing at something you set your mind to. You can do this.”

She took the bedding in one arm and slipped the other around his waist. When she spoke, her voice was tight. “Thank you. For all of it. For not freaking out, and for being here.”

“It was no trouble, Swan. Really.”

Whatever she was about to say was cut off by her phone ringing loudly. She took a deep breath when she saw that it was Regina returning her call. She pulled away from him and answered.

“Hi, Regina? It’s Emma.”

He heard a garbled response that he was able to vaguely identify as Regina’s voice, sharp with worry and relief.

He thought about doing the decent thing and giving her privacy for this, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity. So he leaned closer. Henry clearly felt similarly, because he emerged from the kitchen to lean against the doorframe, his eyes trained on Emma.

Emma rolled her eyes at both of them, but pressed a button on the phone. She calmed a little and spoke, “Hey, Regina, I put you on speakerphone, so that way you can talk to Henry yourself.”

“Henry?! Are you okay?!”

“Uh, hi. And yeah, I’m fine. Emma even made me hot chocolate. The way I like, too, with the cinnamon and the whipped cream and--”

“Henry Daniel Mills, what were you thinking? Why did you go to Boston? Why did you burst in on Ms. Swan? I raised you better than that.”

He hung his head sheepishly. “I...I--I found out she’s my mom. My birth mom, I mean. Who gave me up for adoption.”

There was fraught silence on the other end of the line, and Killian could feel the questions circling.

Before the tension could build too much, Emma cut in. “It’s--it’s not an imposition, Regina. Er, Ms. Mills, if you prefer.”

“Did you tell him about this? Is this a secret you’ve kept? Is this why you came to work for me?! Because if this is some elaborate ploy--” Anger and pain crackled through the phone, and Killian winced.

“No, and I’d like to remind you that this is on speaker. I...I didn’t know until tonight. If I had, I never would have come to work with Mills & Booth.”

Henry’s face fell, hurt evident in his posture. Emma seemed to notice, and she cringed.

“Look, Regina, this wasn’t part of my plan for the evening. I have company, but I’ll...I’ll make sure Henry is fine for tonight. I’ll get him back to you tomorrow.”

Regina’s voice had regained its measured calm. “Yes, you will, and I would be more comfortable if your company left. I don’t want my son to be around complete strangers who I’ve in no way vouched for. We clearly missed some things in your background check, but at least I know you’re not a wild child.”

Emma looked to him as if beseeching him, and he nodded. “It’s Killian. Killian Jones,” she replied, her voice clipped.

“Oh! Well, then,” she said, pausing as if considering. “I would still prefer…”

“Of course. I’ll, uh, send him home. Do you want me to drive Henry back, or…?”

“I--I suppose that works. Or I could pick him up. We could also get a flight…”

“Regina, it’s no trouble. If I put him on a plane…”

“He might just run again,” she sighed. “Very well. Would you like to meet in Portland? I’ll text you directions to a restaurant there, because I’d like to speak with you, too.”

“Of course.”

“Now, could I speak to Henry, please?”

“Oh, right. Sure. Here he is,” Emma said, passing the phone to Henry once she turned off the speaker function.

Henry took it, his expression mulish, a stubborn light in his eyes. “Hi. Yeah. No, it was my--Mom, I’ll be okay, and yeah, she’s fine. So is he. Okay. Me too. See you then.”

He hung up and then looked up at Emma. Killian could see the trepidation in the boy’s furrowed brow, and he felt a pang for this confused child. “Um, so, that went pretty well. Right?”

Emma snorted.

“I mean, she’s mad, but she didn’t yell at you too much?”

No, just implied a couple of things Emma didn’t want or need to hear, Killian thought unhappily. He knew he was defensive where she was concerned, so he tried to focus on Henry.

“I...I think it’ll be okay.”

“Are you mad at me?” The uncertainty in Henry’s voice broke his heart. It clearly tore at Emma too, and she sighed and slumped her shoulders.

“No, I’m not mad, exactly. I just...it’s a weird situation, okay? Feelings are running high.” Squaring her shoulders, she finally pulled away from Killian. He felt bereft.

“Oh.”

“Look, kid, it’s late. Let me say goodbye to Killian, and then we’ll get you off to bed. We have an early morning ahead of us.”

Henry finally gave in, nodding his acquiescence.

Emma motioned to Killian to head out into the hallway. He followed, melancholy setting in as he realized the night’s excitement--both good and bad--was at an end.

She shut the door behind them, slumping against it. She gave him a rueful smile and shook her head. “What a night, huh?”

“That’s definitely one way of putting it.” He reached up and scratched behind his ear, suddenly uncertain. He wasn’t sure what to say, or how he felt. More importantly, he wasn’t sure how she felt about everything that had transpired this evening.

Emma seemed to feel the same way, but she reached out to touch his arm. “I had fun. You know, with the date and all. I know there’s a lot…”

He grabbed her hand quickly, “It was! Fun, that is. And we certainly have a lot to talk about, but I want to do this again. Definitely.”

Emma gave a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I was afraid--I know it might be a shock, the whole me having had a kid and going to jail thing, and I just--”

“--and we can talk about it, when said child isn’t in your apartment for the first time ever. When you don’t have bigger fish to fry,” Killian said, pulling her close.

“Thanks. I want to tell you, I just…”

“I know. It’s...a lot. I have things too.”

Emma smiled, looking up and brushing a kiss across his lips. “I’ll call you tomorrow, when I’m back in Boston. We can figure something out then.”

Tucking her hair behind her ear, he kissed her again. “Sounds excellent, Swan. Until then?”

“Yeah.”