Captain Swan - Tangled Up In Blue

ONLY A SNEAK PEEK!!!!!

Chapter 29 It’s always darkest before dawn

A/N: We are so close to the end folks, and I’m so sad to write this last chapter before the epilogue but I truly hope you will enjoy it. Here’s a little teaser until I can finish it ;)

He thought about her and Ian every second of the day, hoping they were okay, and hoping they were safe and happy.

Mary Margaret frequently offered updates when she spoke to her over the phone, and according to Emma’s statement, they were safe and happy, and even though he’d felt a wave of relief wash over him every time this was verbally confirmed, he ached for actual proof. The kind Nolan woman had informed him that Emma was seeing a therapist and joined a support group for victims of domestic abuse, she had overcome the fear of leaving Ian at Daycare when it was unavoidable, she was taking online courses at home and talked about joining the police academy so she could track down pieces of scum like Neal and have the satisfaction of throwing them in jail herself. Overall Emma and Ian were doing okay, and Killian was somehow able to breathe by this knowledge, he found himself actually sleeping at night but, still, he missed the bloody hell out of them.

Killian was swimming in a sea of thoughts as he drove home, thinking about the possibility of taking a long jog while still trying to process the outcome of that morning. He was overjoyed, but at the same time, it all felt surreal.

As he rolled through town, Killian didn’t think he was speeding, or at all driving reckless; he kept his weary eyes on the road and stopped at every red light, but for some reason he saw red and blue lights flashing behind him and heard the sound of the annoying siren. He was cursing under his breath, utterly confused and irritated as he pulled over to the side of the road. Did that bloody pain in the arse have nothing better to than pull him over because he still wasn’t over the fact that Killian had been dating Emma? It was obvious that Graham was trying to be cool or show him up because he was temporarily the town Sheriff and riding August’s motorcycle instead of his usual police vehicle.

When the roar of the motorcycle died, Killian peered into the rear-view mirror watching as the authority figure in uniform and a motorcycle helmet climbed off of the bike.

Grabbing his license and registration from the glove compartment he rolled down the window, hearing the footsteps on the pavement. When the officer approached, Killian was certainly intending on giving the Irish bloke a piece of his mind. “Is there a problem, officer?” There was a bitterness in Killian’s tone, vexation embedded in his features and his gaze was glued to the steering wheel; he was avoiding eye contact and was prepared to give the man hell as the helmet was being pulled off. Killian’s proffered documents were being slipped from his hand when he heard the spoken words in his ear that, to his surprise, lacked the certain Irish accent he was expecting.

“That’s Deputy to you, and yes, actually there is a problem…”