a big thank you to everybody who reviewed in the last chapter. sorry that it took me so long to get out but real life gets in the way sometimes. i hope to keep up this frequent updating (like once a week), but i am moving house next weekend, so it may be a little bit longer. two weeks at most, i promise! anyways, hope you all like this one.

- shauna! xo

"We also have cause to believe that both are also linked with Killian's recent trauma."

Her eyes are wide, as she stares up at Graham, and she immediately knows there's tears there. Stupid, tratorous feelings.

She's not sure why she's so shocked, because she pretty much knew it wasn't an accident. Hers? Perhaps. But with Killian's accident so close to hers and in such a similar way? She knew that it couldn't have been a coincident. Not that she believes in coincidences, anyway.

Maybe, she's in denial. Maybe she's still just reeling in from the news of the accident.

"Excuse me?"

Her voice cracks, when she speaks, and she knows it's because of the emotion welling in her chest, the way the tears are beginning to spill out from her eyes.

She watches as Graham's hands reach out towards her before they drop back to his sides with a loud sigh, as he seemingly thinks better of reaching for her. He doesn't repeat himself though, he merely stares up at her with those big, pitful eyes of his.

"I'm sorry, Ems," he says, slowly. "I'm really sorry."

Her eyebrows furrow, as her eyes narrow, because he's talking like it's all over, and he's speaking to her, like he would a grieving family member back at the station, and that's... that's just completely unacceptable, because he's not dead. He was going to be fine, and in a few months, they'd all look back at this stupid event, and smile, because they'd made it this far.

She glares, even though she knows the effect is ruined when she sniffles, her hands coming up to wipe under her eyes, slim fingers rubbing the tears away.

"He's fine," she tells him, her voice flat.

Graham startles slightly at that.

"Em-"

"He's fine," she repeats, holding a hand up as he goes to interrupt her. "He's going to be fine. He's going to wake up soon, and everything's going to be okay. You'll see," she insists.

Graham's eyes seem to soften even further, and he sighs.

"I sincerely hope so," he tells her, with every bit of sincerity he has.

Emma relaxes slightly, though her arms cross over her chest, as she looks over at her boss, her shoulders loosening slightly, because at least he wasn't looking at her like that anymore. She didn't know if she could take it, because she wasn't grieving.

There was nothing to grieve. He was still here.

She tries to smile at him, reassuringly, since she knows he's looking at her like she's lost her mind, but it comes out as more of a grimace, the tears falling silently down her face, and she tastes the salt water as she sighs, breathing in deeply.

Graham doesn't try to smile back, as she steps forward.

"We're going to find them," she declares suddenly, and even she knows her eyes are wild and feral, as she looks up at the older man. "Those who did this. We're going to find them," she clarifies.

Graham looks back at her, and she's surprised to the see the hard look in his eyes.

"Absolutely," he tells her. "You have my word."

She grasps the lapels of his jacket, and she could just break down, at how similar it feels to Killian's parker (the one she knows he saves when he goes back to England to visit his brother), and the one she'd taken to wearing, when he wasn't around and it was cold, even though he'd caught her once or twice. She knows he loves it really. He'd already admitted it once or twice that he liked seeing her in his clothing.

(But god, Liam. They needed to tell Liam.)

Killian had started going back to work, before she had. She knew the Captain had given him a couple of weeks off work to take care of her and god, she could kill the both of them for that - she was a grown woman, for Christ sake, and she could take care of herself. But, she did admit, begrudgingly, that it was nice to not have to do everything, and Killian's bed was more comfortable than hers.

So, around the second week of living with him (temporarily, she reminds herself), she pretty much sends him back to work.

"There's no point in both of us missing weeks of this case," she'd pointed out, glaring at him, as she'd dared him to cut her off. "And you can catch me up, rather quickly when you get home, and I'm sure we'll come to a conclusion much more quickly. Besides, Graham's understanding but I know he's already been bugging you about coming back."

Killian's ready to argue she knows that, but he doesn't, and the both of them are surprised.

"You heard that?" he asks instead.

She snorts, rolling her eyes.

"You're not as stealthy as you may think, Jones. Besides, do you really think I don't know how to feign sleep? Please, my actress skills are amazing, thank you very much."

He grins, though he shakes his head, and she knows he'll agree to pretty much whatever she wants, so she sweetens the deal.

"Please, Killian," she even gives him her adult version of the puppy dog eyes. "I miss work. Being bed ridden isn't all it's cracked up to bed, you know, and I'll find out much more, if you go back."

She watches him as he rolls his eyes.

"Always an ulterior motive with you," he murmurs.

She grins.

"You know me too well." A pause. "So you'll go back to work? Please?" She even pouts at him.

He rolls his eyes once more (and maybe they had been spending too much time together lately), sighing under his breath.

"As you wish, Swan," he murmurs, and he moves forward to press a lingering kiss to her cheek.

She grins, as he straightens up slightly.

"So, what would you like for dinner, tonight?"

(She also could totally live with his cooking forever.)

So, he ends up going back to work the next day, and Emma's kind of pleased to have a few moments to herself. It's been strange, to say the least, that she hadn't been alone for a single second, lately. Not that she disliked that. She dare say she enjoyed having Killian around, but it was something she wasn't use to, being taken care of.

(She's quite sure she could, if given the time to.)

She can move around now, if her movements are slow enough, and it helps that Killian has no stairs, so she makes it into the living room that day, humming under her breath as she makes herself comfortable on his couch, turning on Netflix. She eventually decides on Pretty Little Liars, and figures she'd save watching the new episode of Once Upon A Time for when Killian was home. He totally loved that show, and nobody could convince her otherwise. Whether he wanted to admit it, or not.

Emma finds it's strange to be alone with her thoughts, and she rethinks the day before, as she watches the television.

It doesn't take her long to realise that she called this Home, and she freezes. She called his apartment home. What terrifies her the most, is how much she didn't regret that, and how much she actually meant it. Because it was. At least for now, and she could let that be, without reading too much into it for once, because she was happy. Even if her ribs killed.

An hour later, she's humming to herself as she wanders into the kitchen, and she's smiling to herself, when she sees the food on the kitchen counter, with a note attached to it.

Emma,

Make sure you eat your breakfast, probably brunch knowing you. You and I both know you need your strength, and we also both know you can't cook to save your life, so make sure you eat up. I'll bring Thai home for dinner,

Killian.

Stupid, adorable idiot. Even if she narrows her eyes at the cooking thing, but he is right, so she lets it slide.

She sighs, as she puts the sandwich onto a plate, and when she looks up she sees a jacket hanging up behind the kitchen door. She peeks at it, sneaking forward in curiosity, and she runs her fingers over it, when she's close enough.

Strange, because she's never seen Killian in a parka. He seems to favour that leather jacket of his, not that she'd complain. He did make leather look good.

She sighs at how soft it is, and she is cold, and since she hasn't quite learned how to adjust the heating, she slips it off the hanger, slipping her arms through it. She grins when her head tilts to the side, her nose brushing up against the soft, black material, and then sighing, when she sniffs. It smells of him, and that makes her happy.

Killian always does smell nice, almost reminds her of the forest. Almost homey, and she always likes to press her nose against his henley, when they lay in bed, and she knows he's asleep (except for the one time he caught her). So, she takes her sandwich and his coat (which she's totally claiming now), and snuggles up on the couch once more.

(Even if it makes her miss him even more. Adorable idiot.)

She practically jumps out of her skin when she hears the door slam, not an hour later, and she bites her lip, when she realises she's still in his coat.

Did she fall asleep? She must have, that's the only explanation, and she feels slightly disorientated, when she hears his heavy footsteps.

"Honey, I'm home," she hears his voice yell out loudly, almost mockingly, and she grins, despite herself at that.

It had sort of been a private joke between the two of them, whenever he'd left and come back, since the time she'd berated him for not telling her he was leaving. What? She had been worried. What if something had happened to him?

Not that she admitted that to him though, even if she had a feeling that he knew.

She hears him in the kitchen before he comes trailing into the room, that leather jacket she loves so much still on his shoulders.

"Swan," he grins, and she smiles back, at the way he can light up a room, when he looks at her like that.

"Jones," she nods.

His eyes narrow as he settles into the room, pausing at the edge of the coffee table.

"Is that my coat?"

"Um..."

She inwardly panicks, because maybe she shouldn't just go around stealing his clothes.

Killian chuckles though, shaking his head.

"In my clothes again, Swan," he grins. "One might think you have a thing for me, as the kids say."

She snorts, shaking her head.

"In your dreams, Jones," she tells him.

He grins back.

"Not anymore," he tells her confidently, before he shrugs. "Admittedly, it does look better on you than it does me."

(He never got the coat back.)

When she blinks, coming back to, Graham is looking down at her concerned, when he registers the tears in her eyes.

"Oh, Em," he says, his voice full of pity, and then she's breaking down once more, as she grips onto the lapels of his jackets.

"You have to find them," she sobs, as she presses herself against him, trying to find some comfort. "You have to."

His soft eyes are the last thing she remembers, before her eyes turn blury with tears, and then she feels another pair of arms embracing her. August she registers briefly, as Graham passes her off to him, and stands up tall.

"We'll get justice, Emma. We'll find them who did this," Graham promises. "That much I know."

The words get stuck in her throat, as her arms wrap around herself.

They better.

Otherwise, she might have to take things into her own hands.

so, what did you guys think?

love it? hate it? did you have a favourite part or a favourite line? let me know what you think in a review!

sorry for all the angst, but i promise it will all be worth it in the end.

- shauna! xo