Wilderlove
Harriet stumbled into the living room, blurry eyed and tired. She hadn’t fallen asleep until three in the morning and was barely awake. Rubbing her eyes, she walked into the kitchenette and was startled to see it was almost noon. At a loss, she started to ask why they had let her sleep for so long when she realized the apartment was empty.
“Where is everyone?” Harriet muttered. She went to the fridge and opened the door only to be met with nothing. Huffing in frustration, she shut it and crossed her arms. That explained where Kreacher was; he was on his weekly food run.
But where was Rum?
She felt disappointment stir in her stomach. Last night had been one of the best nights of her life. The way he had held her hand and the softness in his eyes had made her feel like a princess in a fairytale. She hadn’t wanted it to end.
After they arrived home, she had quietly gone to her room, but had hesitated at the door. There was so much she had wanted to say. So much that she was feeling, but Rumple had gently wished her goodnight and excused himself to the bathroom. She had sighed then, in disappointment or relief she couldn't be sure, and had gone to bed.
Harriet looked around the room and saw a note on the coffee table. Quickly she picked it up and read,
Dear Beauty,
I wanted to make you breakfast, despite Kreacher’s protests, but we need a few things. I’ve run to the market. Kreacher has decided, in his infinite wisdom, that he will come with me; muggle market or no. Apparently, I’m not to be trusted to follow a simple grocery list.
Don’t worry dearie, I won’t let the little fool be spotted by the muggles.
Your Rum
Harriet’s face instantly brightened, and she found herself carefully re-reading the letter. Her heart zeroed in on the words Your Rum and she found herself grinning.
Was she developing a crush on Rumpelstiltskin? Was this more than just loneliness? Harriet wanted to be horrified, like a good little Gryffindor, but found that she couldn’t. Instead, she carefully folded Rumple’s letter and decided to keep it. She wanted it as proof that there were differences between the Dark One and Lord Voldemort. That she wasn’t crazy for seeing something worthwhile inside of Rumpelstiltskin.
Harriet knew that she cared for others far more than was prudent. Even when she was a teen, she had found herself pitying Lord Voldemort far more than she should have. When she had discovered what his mother’s love potion had done to him, she had truly wished for some kind of spell to help him. He had so much potential, so much power, that he could have used it to help others. He could have been the greatest wizard of his time. Instead, he had used that power to impose his will on the whole of the wizarding world. He had been selfish, hateful, and unkind.
Rumpelstiltskin was still selfish, and he could be hateful, even unkind. Yet, his yearning for power seemed to stem more from a lack of control than for the subjugation of an entire world. As the Dark One, he had almost unlimited power, and yet he hadn’t used that power in the way Harriet knew Lord Voldemort would have.
She didn’t know much about Rumple’s son. All she knew was that Rumple lost him and that he had used the power of the Dark One to find him again. Rumple hadn’t been specific, but he admitted to doing terrible things to find him. Yet, he did those terrible things for love. Rumple’s capacity for love was great and where love was, kindness was surely to follow.
Sighing, Harriet walked to the bookshelf in her room and slipped the letter into her photo album, hoping to keep the note safe. She genuinely smiled for the first time in ages and decided she would start her day with a shower. Hopefully, by the end of it, Kreacher and Rumple would be back, and they could discuss lunch. For the first time in years, Harriet was famished.
Rumpelstiltskin was distracted. Something he hated to be in public, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. He had been so frazzled that morning he had barely argued with Kreacher when the elf refused to let him go to the grocery by himself.
“It’s my job sir,” The house-elf had replied with injured dignity.
“It’s a muggle market,” Rumple had warned but Kreacher had just crossed his arms and looked defiant.
“Fine,” Rumple had snapped, “But you better stay invisible, or the muggles will think we’ve been invaded by aliens.”
To Kreacher’s credit, he didn’t react to Rumple’s insult. Instead, the elf had followed him into the foyer and disappeared as soon as Rumple had crossed the threshold onto the street. The elf seemed experienced in navigating muggle london, which was rather impressive. Most magical creatures avoided muggles like the plague.
Gritting his teeth, Rumple tried to keep his mind on task, but was fighting a losing battle. While he had a lot that should’ve been on his mind, his past life, his marriage, his grandson, and his fear of discovery. What was actually on his mind was Harriet.
He couldn’t stop thinking of how her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. He smiled when he remembered how perfect her hand had felt in his. With her at his side, even the Darkness had felt at peace.
As he moved from aisle to aisle, he daydreamed of what could have been. He felt his face heat as he imagined how her skin would have felt underneath his hand. Of how her lips would have felt moving against his own. Of the little moans and groans she would have made as his kisses moved from her lips to her neck, down to her bare shoulder.
“Are you going to buy that?” An elderly lady asked as he stood in front of the cereal aisle, staring unseeing at a box of cornflakes. Shaking his head, and trying to hide his flush of embarrassment, he replaced the box and all but ran from the aisle.
What in Merlin’s name was wrong with him? He needed to get a grip!
Yet, he once again found himself thinking about last night. How there had been a moment right before she went into her room where he had considered kissing her. Of pinning her against the door and devouring her lips with his own. He had never felt so desperate for kisses.
Instead he had bid her a quick goodnight and fled into the bathroom. He had stayed there until he was sure she had gone to bed before he began spinning. He hadn’t trusted himself alone with her. Not with the Darkness whispering in his mind to take her, to mark her as their own, to devour every last inch of ever and make her beg for it all the while.
Clearing his throat, Rumple shifted and frowned; realizing how uncomfortable he had become. Swallowing, Rumple shook his leg and hoped nobody noticed his erection.
“Fuck her,” The Darkness hissed, “and you might feel better.”
“Shut up,” Rumple snarled, too distressed to ignore the entity.
“Why are you fighting what we want?” The Darkness hissed in frustration.
“I’m married,” Rumple growled, quieting the Darkness.
It was as if a bucket of ice had been dumped over him. All desire left his body, leaving only guilt. How could he possibly want someone else when he was still married to his Belle? His sweet, bookish, beautiful Belle. Just because she was confused about what she wanted didn’t mean he could be unfaithful. They were True Love!
He abhorred adultery and he flat out refused to participate in it; no matter how Harriet made him feel. While he had every right to be upset by the possibility of divorce, he had no right to seek comfort elsewhere. Especially not with a woman he had so grievously wronged.
For good or ill he would remain a faithful husband. The love and duty he felt toward his family was something the Darkness, and his recently recovered memories, could never take from him. He would make sure of that. No matter how much his heart yearned for Harriet.
Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, Rumple sped through the rest of his shopping, desperate to escape the grocery. Of course, this aggravated his knee. By the time he left, his limp was noticeable. Kreacher offered to take the groceries, but Rumple declined. The more he walked, the more his throbbing leg distracted him from his adulterous thoughts.
That morning, when he had stood from the spinning wheel, he had noticed how much his leg and back were throbbing from the hike. He had decided to ignore it; sure, it would go away. Now, he could feel something in his knee pinching. Rumple knew it was his old injury flaring up and it frustrated him. Despite how well he had been feeling the last few days, his limp only became worse.
He suspected it had something to do with the differences in magic. In the Enchanted Forest, magic had been easier to wield. Here, it required far more energy and concentration. You had to be exceptionally gifted in order to use magic as he did as the Dark One. While he was sure he still had control of most of his magic, healing spells were some of the hardest to master. He worried that without a wand, he would have difficulty channeling the required magic. Thinking of Mad Eye Moody, a formidable wizard with a constant limp, Rumple grimaced. He didn’t want to have to go back to using a cane.
Next time he would just let Kreacher go to the damn grocery himself.
Suddenly, his phone began buzzing causing Rumple to frown. Despite how much pain he was in, he began to walk faster; worried that it could be Henry with an emergency. Soon Grimmauld Place came into view and Rumple took the steps two at a time. Kreacher opened the door for him and then appeared in front of Harriet’s apartment.
“I can take them from you, sir,” Kreacher croaked with a dignified air. Nodding, Rumple handed the bags to the elf and opened the door for Kreacher to walk in ahead of him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Remus watch him from his own apartment. When he looked over however, Remus was gone, and the door was shut.
“Odd,” Rumple muttered as he walked into Harriet’s apartment. Feeling slightly uneasy, he locked the door. Then cast a protective ward around the entrance for good measure.
That complete, Rumple grabbed his phone to see what was wrong. Killian had texted him the same photo at least six times. Frowning, he opened the text, knowing he was probably gloating about “his revenge” and almost dropped the phone.
“What’s wrong?” Harriet asked, coming from the bathroom. She had just finished her morning shower and was heading to her bedroom to dress, when she glanced in Rumple’s direction. Rumple ignored her, preferring to stare at his phone in horror. Making sure her robe was secure, Harriet walked up to Rumple who wordlessly handed her his phone; shock written across his face. Frowning, Harriet took the phone and found herself looking at a picture.
The woman in the picture was very beautiful. She wore a long brown coat with a brown polka-dotted blouse, a pink skirt, brown tights and pink high heels. Her hair was fixed in a half up half down hairstyle and she looked happy holding hands with a scruffy looking man. The man was dressed casually, but somehow seemed to match her in his all-black ensemble. They were walking down the street, neither seeming to have a care in the world. Looking closely, Harriet could see how the woman was leaning closer to the man and the man was looking adoringly at the woman.
“Who are they?” Harriet asked, as she looked at Rumple.
Seeing his stony expression, she felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. “This isn’t your wife, is it?” “Yes,” Rumple swallowed and looked away. His hands were clenched in fists, and he sarcastically replied, “and a new friend.”
“Who sent this?” Harriet asked.
“Killian Jones,” Rumple snarled, starting to pace in front of the door, “In fact, he sent it to me six times, just so I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Well fuck,” Harriet muttered still looking at the happy couple in the picture. Wincing she looked at Rumple again. The last time his wife cheated on him, he had murdered her and maimed her lover. What had Hook been thinking? Swallowing, she said, “Maybe you should sit down, Rum.”
“I don’t want to sit down,” Rumple snarled, crossing and uncrossing his arms. He couldn’t decide what angered him more. The fact that Belle had so clearly moved on, or the guilt he felt for his attraction to Harriet.
He truly believed that his feelings for Harriet were an after effect of the horcrux. It made no sense he would be so attracted to Harriet so quickly. He was lovestruck and he couldn’t understand how that was possible. He had already found his True Love. Belle was everything that he needed. She was supposed to be his strength.
Except she wasn’t. She should have been and at one time she was. Yet for their entire marriage she had only been a source of confusion and heartache. Someone he had to protect and keep things from. Not a person he could trust with his plans or pain. Not an equal partner.
Were they even supposed to be together?
“Rumple….” Harriet began, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked at her and fought the urge to pull her close. To smell her hair and feel her skin against his. He wanted her calm and peace, but he didn’t know how to ask for it. Instead, he allowed himself to fall into the rage and anger always boiling inside of him.
Harriet sighed when she saw how vacant his eyes had become and softly said, “I’m sorry Rum.”
Rumple stopped pacing. He closed his eyes and looked down at the floor, desperate to hide his pain. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him again. Was there something wrong with him? Every woman he had ever loved left him for another man. Milah and Hook, Cora and Henry, and now Belle and Will. Was there something about him that caused women to cheat? Was he THAT bad of a lover?
While he knew Belle had been confused about what she wanted. It never occurred to him that she would be seeing another man. Not so soon after his banishment. Not his Belle.
Apparently, she was no longer his.
“What can I do?” Harriet asked. She wanted to reach out, hold him, and take his pain away. She was only beginning to realize just how much she cared for him. They had only begun to know each other, and she was already feeling intense complicated romantic feelings for him. Feelings that by all rights, shouldn’t be there. There was no explanation for it, but Harriet wasn’t sure she cared. Swallowing, she meant to say something more when she felt the phone buzz in her hand. Looking down, she saw Hook had sent another text.
“So much for True Love.”
Growling, Harriet angrily pushed the call button and brought the phone to her ear. Rumple’s eyes widened when he noticed what Harriet was doing. He began to reach out to take the phone but ultimately decided against it. Her anger was palpable.
The call was picked up on the second ring and before Hook could say one word Harriet snarled, “Let me tell you something, you dumb motherfucker, if I ever get my hands on you, I’m going to choke you until your eyes bug out of your head.”
There was a sharp intake of breath on the line and a startled “oi”, but Harriet didn’t even give him a chance to speak, “You just sent the Dark One, the man that killed your lover, a picture of his current wife with another man. Do you think that was wise, dumbass?’
“Who the hell are you?” Killian snapped.
Harriet just rolled her eyes,” None of your fucking business, Captain Stupid.” Taking a breath she snarled, “Don’t text or call this phone again. You do and I’ll turn you into a toilet seat for a week.”
She then hung up and blocked his number.
Harriet was worried that she had overstepped and was about to apologize when Rumple began cackling hysterically. He leaned forward, his hands on his knees, while his whole body shook with hysterical laughter. She watched in surprise as Rumpelstiltskin’s laughter turned ugly. His eyes narrowed, turning from brown to amber, and before Harriet could even try and calm him, he morphed into the Dark One.
Rumpelstiltskin then turned and began attacking his spinning wheel; using his claws and brute strength to destroy it. Harriet and Kreacher watched in growing alarm as pieces of wood were thrown throughout the small apartment. With each crunch and groan of the spinning wheel, Rumple’s hysterical laughter became wilder. Harriet bit her lip, ducking as various pieces of wood were thrown their way.
“Rumple,” Harriet began taking a step toward him, but Kreacher grabbed her arm and jerked her back.
“No Mistress,” Kreacher whispered, “He may hurt you.”
Running her fingers through her hair, Harriet helplessly glared at the phone in her hands and threw it on the table in frustration. She wasn’t sure what she should do, but Rumple’s increasing violence was starting to affect her. She could feel herself becoming irrationally angry and there was a strong urge to start ripping apart her apartment.
“Please make us some tea, Kreacher,” Harriet asked softly, hoping to distract the little elf so he didn’t notice how hard it was for Harriet not to sink into Rumple’s anger. Kreacher frowned, but did what Harriet asked, knowing that something was wrong with his Mistress.
Harriet felt a growing sense of compulsion push her forward and she hastily took a step toward Rumpelstiltskin. Gritting her teeth, she made herself stop, frustrated at the connection between them.
She would be the mistress of her own mind!
Taking a breath, Harriet hadn’t realized how long she had struggled against the compulsion, when Kreacher announced the tea was ready and placed two mugs onto the kitchen table. It distracted Harriet enough to ignore the compulsion.
“Thank you, Kreacher,” Harriet said. She cautiously moved toward Rumple, who had stopped destroying his spinning wheel. Instead, he was just staring at the remains around him, breathing heavily, with his fists clenched. Worriedly, Harriet placed her hand on Rumple’s shoulder to make him aware of her presence. Quickly and violently, he grabbed Harriet’s wrist in his hand, jerking her forward and slightly twisting her arm.
“I want to hurt them,” Rumple growled, voice low and unnatural. Anger coiled inside of him like a snake, ready to strike at the nearest target.
Harriet felt her stomach twist with unease and pain blossomed in her wrist. He didn’t seem to know what he was doing; his eyes were full of wraith and unfocused. For the first time in their new acquaintance, Harriet wasn't entirely comfortable with him.
Swallowing, she opened her mouth to ask Rumple to let her go, when he clenched his hand. Harriet felt her wrist snap and heard a loud crack. Pain shot up her arm and she bit her lip to keep herself from crying out.
“I want to have Belle watch as I rip her lover’s heart from his chest,” Rumpelstiltskin snarled, seemingly unfazed by Harriet’s broken wrist. His mind was jumbled. All he could feel was white-hot rage. He wanted to destroy everything around him.
Whimpering, Harriet was suddenly pulled forward, her broken wrist grinding against bone. She felt woozy and stumbled when Rumple unconsciously pulled her against him. Startled, she looked into Rumple’s face. He wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was glaring unseeing over her shoulder. She felt his arm snake possessively around her waist, pinning her against him.
For a split second she was overwhelmed by his rage and proximity. His scent surrounded her and despite the pain and growing fear, she felt desire stir within her.
What the fuck was wrong with her?
“Rum,” Harriet whispered painfully, “You’re hurting me.”
Rumple looked at her then and their eyes locked. She almost gasped when she saw how his anger transformed him. A few moments ago, Harriet had been trying to console Rumpelstiltskin, a kind if dangerous older man. Now standing before her, was her nemesis Lord Voldemort. It wasn’t in how the Darkness changed his outer appearance. It was his anger. It changed how he carried himself and how he spoke. His eyes were cold and distant, and his body was rigid against hers. She felt his magic tingle violently against her skin and despite being of an average height, he seemed to tower over her.
They stared at each other for a moment and then Rumple let her go; backing away. Horror made his amber eyes shine with unshed tears. How could he possibly have hurt her? She had only been trying to comfort him. To rouse him from his thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed she was there.
Harriet clutched her wrist to her chest, trying to breathe through the pain and ignore how her heart was breaking. Rumple had hurt her, something that she had been sure he would never do. If she was wrong about that, what else was she wrong about? Doubet spread through her like poison, and she struggled to keep the tears at bay.
An icy silence spread throughout the apartment. Kreacher watched from the kitchen, ready to defend his Mistress if she called. Rumple was just staring at Harriet in shock, flabbergasted by his own actions. Finally, Harriet coldly said, “I would appreciate it, if you would heal this.”
Looking at her uncertainty and praying he had the power available; Rumple gently took her wrist in his hands. He stared at her for a moment. His eyes were no longer twisted in anger. Instead, they seemed to be drowning in sorrow and Harriet felt her breath hitch. Seemingly coming to a decision, Rumple bent forward and touched his lips to her wrist. He found himself whispering, “never again” against her skin and Harriet felt herself shiver as warmth spread up her arm and the pain evaporated.
Pulling away, Harriet stepped back; making sure to put some space between them. Rumple watched forlornly as she eyed him suspiciously. He had hurt her enough for a thousand lifetimes, what had he been thinking?
“I don’t know what to say,” Rumple whispered, ashamed. He didn’t even have the courage to look her in the eye.
“I’m sorry; would be a good start,” Harriet replied calmly. She was still clutching her wrist, fascinated by how thoroughly Rumpelstiltskin had healed it.
Swallowing Rumple looked up and said, "I’m deeply sorry for hurting you.”
He reached out toward her, but noticed she was leaning away from him and let his arm drop, looking crestfallen “I had no cause to harm you like that.”
Harriet pursed her lips together and narrowed her eyes, “Why did you?”
“I didn’t….” Rumple stuttered, “I don’t…. I didn’t realize I was holding you,” Rumple finally managed to say, “I just remember grabbing something and squeezing. I didn’t notice it was your wrist.” He paused for a second and said, “I rather wanted it to be Will Scarlet’s heart.”
“I gathered that,” Harriet coldly replied. Rumpelstiltskin just hung his head, his shoulders slumping forward in misery. Harriet eyed him for a second and then she allowed the tension to leave her shoulders. She shook her head and sighed in disappointment. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, that was clear. His anger and rage had consumed him, and she happened to be too close.
Reaching out she brushed her fingertips against his shoulder, prompting him to look at her. Harriet flopped her wrist in front of his face and said, “No harm done.”
“Plenty of harm was done,” Rumpelstiltskin replied dully, turning his back toward her and walking stiffly to his spinning wheel, “I made you afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Harriet replied with an eye roll. She took a few steps toward Rumpelstiltskin but stopped short of touching him. Was she afraid of him?
He stared at her resignedly and snapped his fingers. In a swirl of golden sparks his broken spinning wheel put itself back together. It was perfect, as if it had never been destroyed. He sat down and began working the wheel, trying to calm his turbulent thoughts. Rumple seemed so practiced at repairing his broken wheel that Harriet wondered how many times he had destroyed it in a fit of rage.
Biting her lip, Harriet frowned. Was she afraid of him? Through their connection, she felt his guilt. She heard him whisper “never again” against her skin. She knew he hadn’t meant to hurt her. Yet, he had. He had lost control and she had been in the way. She could easily be again. Was this the kind of life she wanted for herself? To always be on edge around the person she cared for most?
Still, Harriet couldn’t deny how Rumpelstiltskin made her feel. He was at once gentle but dangerous, kind but cruel. His very nature contradicted itself; it was as intriguing as it was frightening. Gritting her teeth, Harriet made a decision. One she hoped she wouldn’t regret. Haltingly, she reached out and placed her hand on his, effectively stopping him from spinning. She then leaned into his back and said into his ear, unknowingly purring, “Do I seem afraid?”
Harriet gently nuzzled her nose against his ear, trying to prove to herself that she was unafraid. There was something about Rumple’s scent, his quiet sorrow, and the softness of his scales that mesmerized Harriet. She tightened her hold on Rumple’s shoulders, feeling the warm leather under her fingers and she let out a sigh as she nuzzled his ear again.
Rumple sat rigid under her touch. He felt his entire body warm and then flush, responding to her sultry voice. He closed his eyes and soaked in her warmth, focusing on her touch. His muscles began to relax and then constrict. The prickling returned for a moment and then he was human again.
Harriet stepped back from him then, a bit startled by her actions, and impassively watched as Rumple once again refused to look at her. Finally, he turned slightly and looked at Harriet from the corner of his eye.
“Do you want me to leave?” Rumple asked, ashamed. She had calmed his anger, but her actions had only stoked his longing. He desperately wanted her and almost whimpered when she pulled away. His attraction to her only served to make him feel even more ashamed of himself.
“Where would you go?” Harriet asked dismissively, a bit hurt that Rumple hadn’t noticed how intimate her caresses were.
“The clearing…” Rumple began but Harriet scoffed, “You are NOT going anywhere near that cabin.”
Rumple said nothing, and Harriet reached out, taking his chin in her hand and making him look at her. She put all her hurt and fear to the back of her mind and stared him in the eyes.
“You’re going to stay with me,” Harriet commanded, her voice gentle but firm.
“You still want me around?” Rumple whispered, confused. He had hurt her, why wasn’t she running from him?
“Yes,” Harriet replied, her voice gentle. Why wasn’t she trying to put space between them? Rumple was still Lord Voldemort, he was dangerous, and yet…. the idea of him leaving…. was distressing to her. She knew she had feelings for him, but this devotion was beginning to become ridiculous. He hurt her!
“I won’t do that again,” Rumpelstiltskin vowed. Reaching out and brushing his fingertips against Harriet’s healed wrist.
“I know,” Harriet replied quietly. She knew that he meant that, and she wanted it to be true. Yet, he had a monstrous temper, and she would be a liar if she said she wasn’t leery of it.
Harriet pulled away from Rumple and crossed her arms.
“About Will Scarlet,” Harriet began desperate to change the subject, but Rumple cut her off. He saw the fear and doubt in her eyes, and he felt his heart break even more, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Turning his back to her, he began to spin. His emotions were still churning dangerously, and he didn’t want to hurt Harriet again. Sighing in disappointment, Harriet uncrossed her arms and stomped to her room. She needed to change and then she was going to help Kreacher with lunch. Maybe by then Rumple would be ready to have a conversation.
Or maybe she would finally learn to ignore the longing she had for him. It was not healthy, and she couldn’t possibly still want him after what he had done?
Could she?
Storybrooke
Killian Jones hadn’t felt the slightest bit guilty about taking Belle’s picture. He surely didn’t feel guilty about sending it to the Crocodile. It never once occurred to him that Gold would harm Belle. Anyone could tell the old monster thought she hung the moon. It wasn’t until the strange woman on the phone was done shrieking at him that he realized maybe he should have had better forethought. If Will and Belle ended up dead, he would be partially to blame.
“I can’t believe you sent that to him!” Belle raged, as Granny’s patrons watched the drama play out, “You could get Will killed!”
“The last time his wife slept with another man; he killed her,” Hook replied unhelpfully. He was uncomfortable with the number of eyes on him and the direction of this conversation, “You should be more concerned about yourself.”
“I am NOT sleeping with Will!” Belle thundered, her face red and splotchy. Her eyes shifted. Hook suspected that she was lying, but that wasn’t his business.
“Whatever you tell yourself,” Killian replied sarcastically. He then pointed his hook in her direction, “But you had better keep a firm hand on that dagger, Mrs. Gold. Before your Beast stabs you with it.”
Mission accomplished, Killian turned and left the dinner. He ignored the sour looks he was getting, only wanting to put as much distance between Belle and himself as he could. Lately he was nervous prowling the streets of Storybrooke alone. There was a tension in the air since the Crocodile had been banished that was puzzling. Everyday it built on itself, like a storm, and Killian was becoming more and more worried about the inevitable break. Just the other day, Dr. Hopper had verbally accosted him over a harmless bit of lechery. Not that he could blame Dr. Hopper for disliking him. He had tortured the man.
He felt a bit bad about that.
Turning toward the Sheriff’s office, he decided to see Emma. It was close to noon, and he was sure she needed to eat. The number of petty crimes and nuisances were skyrocketing, and Emma was becoming frazzled, often forgetting to eat. The police force consisted of only David and Emma, and it was becoming too much for both of them to handle alone.
Killian had thought about offering to help, but most of the townspeople disliked him. He was sure his help would be more of a hindrance. Frowning, his thoughts turned back toward the woman on the phone, and he idly wondered if he should say something to Emma.
He was pretty sure that the Crocodile was sleeping with her. Why else would he be in her company? He was sure Belle would have felt better about her own affair if she knew the Crocodile was fucking around too. However, there had been something about the woman that unnerved him. He had no doubt that she was a witch, although since she was in the Land of No Magic, he wasn’t worried about her power. He was worried, however, of her getting into Storybrooke and making good on her threat.
Still, it wouldn’t do Emma or David any good worrying about threats from the outside. Right now, it was a petty domestic squabble that had nothing to do with them. If it turned ugly, Killian would say something. Feeling better about his decision, Hook entered the Sheriff's office determined to gain Emma’s attention.