The mistress's words rang in Emma's ear. She blinked several times in stupefaction, trying to come to grips with what the woman was saying.

Four months.

Emma, renamed Ofarthur at the beginning of her assignment, had been a Handmaid in the Pendragon household for four months, but had yet to endure the Ceremony. Not that she was complaining. Now she knew why the blessed event had not occurred. The Commander was impotent.

Impotent. Sterile. Forbidden words here in Camelot. The fertility crisis had always been placed at the women's feet; a sin no man could possibly be held accountable for.

And this man wouldn't be either.

It would be Emma's fault if she didn't conceive. The Handmaid was always to blame in these situations. Panic over being sent to the Colonies, or worse, once it was discovered she was perhaps not as useful to the divine cause as the powers that be had hoped, surged into her chest.

"You understand the risk we are taking in telling you this, don't you?" the mistress hissed in a low whisper.

"Of course, ma'am."

"No one can ever know, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am. I understand."

"Good." The mistress let out a relieved breath and stretched a serene smile over her lips. "Then I know you'll do whatever is necessary to keep up appearances, for all our sakes."

Emma couldn't help the pinched expression that beset her brow at the mistress's words. "Ma'am?"

"I've procured an alternative solution," the woman continued. "Tonight, we will hold the Ceremony. You will wait in my room with the Commander and I for an appropriate amount of time for the servants to believe we've all done our duty, then you will return to your room. He will come to you later tonight."

"Who will?" Emma asked hollowly.

"He's already agreed. He's been with us for a long time. Has always been loyal. We can trust him."

"Who?" Emma questioned again, her heart beginning to race as it had already surmised the man's identity.

"Killian," the woman answered. "Killian will come to you tonight. You will lie with him, and by His hand the two of you will provide me with a miracle."

~/~

"This wasn't my idea," Killian asserted after pulling Emma behind his garage apartment, away from prying eyes before she left for her daily shopping trip. "When the mistress asked, I had no choice but to say yes. You know that, right? I would never-"

"I know," she assured him, unable to meet the intensity of his gaze for fear her own would betray her carefully cultivated capitulation to this world and its ideals.

"We don't have to actually go through with it."

Her eyes darted up to his, startled. "What?"

"We can do exactly as they plan to," he continued in a hushed tone, his eyes now scanning their surroundings. "I'll come up to your room and we'll just… wait it out together."

His gaze fell back onto her with a vulnerability she'd never seen in the usually staid and staunch driver, who Emma knew was also an Eye - a spy sent to keep tabs on Camelot's prominent families and their households.

A war erupted in Emma's mind. The two sides of herself - the one from before, who would never stand for this kind of bullshit treatment and torture against women, and the one that remained after being systematically beaten into complacency - argued over the suggestion. If she had any hope of surviving the insanity of this new society, then she had to conceive, but at what cost?

"You should go," Killian said. "Your shopping partner will wonder where you are."

Emma nodded and turned to go, but was stopped by the grasp of Killian's hand. Emma stared at it, entranced by his long, thick fingers and the dusting of dark hair that wisped over the back of it from his wrist. How much of him was covered by that downy blanket of manliness, she wondered.

"Everything will be alright, Ofarthur," he said. "I promise."

Emma snapped her eyes up to him and could not stop the flash of anger she knew had burst forth from their green depths. "Nothing about this is alright," she seethed, then composed herself with a deep intake of breath as her eyes fell shut, missing his pained expression. "Under His eye," she offered obediently and he released her arm.

"Under His eye."

~/~

Emma sat on her bed; her hands dutifully folded in her lap while she waited for Killian to arrive. Over the past four months they'd only exchanged a few dozen words with one another, today's conversation being their longest to date, yet he was the closest thing she had to a friend within this household. She remembered their first meeting when she was introduced as the Pendragon's newest Handmaid, and how she'd laid awake that night thinking of him.

He was handsome. Dressed in the all black attire issued to Guardians, he had a dangerous quality about him that sent Emma's pulse thundering. If they'd met before, perhaps in some bar, sharing a drink and eye fucking one another for a few hours, she would have invited him back to her place. They would have had all the time and freedom in the world to explore one another. She would know the feel of his rough hands on her, and the softness of his dark hair clutched between her fingers. He would whisper all the dirty things she'd seen swirling within his too blue eyes when she caught him staring at her, into her ear with that rich, sinful voice of his.

Emma pulled her lip between her teeth and closed her eyes. Her skin pebbled at the images dancing in her mind of the two of them moving together, their bodies slick with sweat and aching desperately for release. A rush of desire swept over her, leaving her breathless with a throbbing need between her thighs. Swallowing thickly, she stood and crossed her small room to the sink mounted on the wall. The cool water running over her wrists and splashed against her face did little to curb the heated flush spreading over her skin.

A soft knock echoed from the door as she was patting her face dry, and she called out a shaky invitation for him to enter. There was no cause to be nervous, she reminded herself. Nothing was going to actually happen between them. She stuffed down the disappointment that thought caused, as well as the realization that it had been a sense of anticipation and not nervousness that had made her voice quiver.

She knew something was wrong the moment Killian crossed the threshold. The muscle in his jaw was flickering like mad, and he wouldn't look at her. A moment later, the cause of his countenance made itself known as Mrs. Pendragon followed him into the room.

"Blessed be the fruit," she greeted piously, after closing the bedroom door behind her.

"May the Lord open," Emma replied in conditioned response.

"The Commander insisted I be present for your joining," she explained with stiff discomfort in her tone. "Should your endeavors tonight be fruitful, he thought it best that one of us be present at our child's conception. You may take your position, Ofarthur."

Emma's mind went blank. Moving on auto-pilot, she walked to the foot of the bed and laid atop it with her legs hanging over the end, eyes trained towards the ceiling as she'd been taught. In her lower periphery she noted Mrs. Pendragon perching herself on the deep recesses of the windowsill at the far end of the room, her attention focused on a specific spot on the opposite wall. A blur of black pulled Emma's attention from where it was fixed upward and her eyes flicked to Killian's hands undoing his belt and the fastenings of his pants as he stood in front of her bed.

His hands rucked up her skirt then gripped her knees and spread them apart. A soft, lingering pressure where he'd squeezed one of them before removing his hands caused her eyes to dart up to his. I'm sorry, he mouthed, regret lamenting itself over his features as he looked down on her with apologetic remorse. Emma swallowed and wet her lips before giving him a brief nod and returned her gaze upward.

His hips nestled between her thighs and he brought his hands up to grasp her hips, pulling them towards him. When his member brushed along her slick folds, a blush of embarrassment bloomed at her cheeks. There was no way he could be oblivious to the wetness that had pooled there from her salacious thoughts of him earlier. A wetness she couldn't help but be grateful for when he pushed his way into her, stretching her with an impressive girth that left a delicious burn in its wake. Her lips parted and she held her breath until he was fully seated, worried that the moans collecting in the back of her throat would escape if she gave them breath to carry themselves on.

It took everything she possessed to keep her expression void of all emotion, lest her mistress see. Sex wasn't for pleasure any more. It was for procreation. Lust was a sin to be fought against in order to remain in God's good graces. At least, it was for women, and the men who held less powerful positions than the Commanders who justified their carnal needs in dressed up legislation of twisted scripture and divine will.

After a few hesitant thrusts, Killian bent forward and braced himself with his hands placed next to her shoulders, adjusting his stance to compensate for the low height of her bed. He rocked his hips into her in a steady rhythm, his eyes cast to the side in shame. She clenched her core around his length and his eyes darted to hers. She repeated the motion, making his eyes flutter shut and his lips part in a silent groan. When he opened them again, an intensity burned within their depths, catching her ablaze. The comforter balled in her fists as he snapped his hips in a feverish pace. If only he'd tilt those hips a little further.

They couldn't risk him tilting those hips a little further.

Emma had to remain cognizant of every sound they made. Their skin couldn't slap together too much, his panting breaths had to be from exertion only, and her breathing had to stay even and unaffected. His quiet grunt and brief expression of bliss preceded the stunted jerk of his hips before she felt his cock convulse and the warmth of his seed spill into her. A moment passed where the two of them just stared into one another's eyes, desperate to say something and knowing they couldn't.

A groan caught in the back of Emma's throat when Killian pulled out, and tears pricked the corner of her eyes as they averted themselves back to the ceiling. The sound of the faucet and water trickling filled her hearing as she lay motionless on the bed. A zipper being pulled up, the jingle of a belt put back in place, and the barely distinguishable, Go in grace, from her mistress's lips were the last things she heard before the door opened and closed, leaving her alone with Killian's scent ghosting over her and warmth leaking out of her.

~/~

"Ofarthur, I need you to take this tray to Killian," the house Martha, Granny, stated when Emma entered the kitchen with her own tray of finished supper.

"Why?"

"He's ill, and I thought some soup might do him some good."

"Ill?" She hoped she'd done well enough to keep the edge of worry out of her voice. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know. He told the Commander he couldn't drive him in today because he'd woken up sick to his stomach. He's been holed up in his room all day. Probably hasn't eaten a thing." The older woman muttered, though Emma could hear a tone of concern behind the exasperation. "I still have a lot of work to do, otherwise I'd take it to him myself."

"Of course," Emma replied, taking the tray in hand. "I'll take it to him now."

"Ofarthur," the woman called out before Emma could exit the house. "Stay with him and make sure he finishes every last drop… no matter how long it may take." Emma blinked at the knowing look the woman gave her before smothering it beneath her usually stern features. "Well… off with you, now."

Emma stepped out into the cool night, her heart hammering in her chest with each step she took towards Killian's residence above the garage. It had been three days since she'd last seen him, his duties as the Commander's driver and bodyguard keeping him too busy to drop in at the main house. Too busy and most likely too guilt-stricken to face her. She'd almost snuck out the evening before to go see him. To tell him she didn't hate him, and that it hadn't been his fault, but her own guilt and fear that he'd refuse to see her had kept her in her room.

Her hand trembled when she released the tray, now fully supported on her left arm so she could knock on his door. She waited with baited breath, then filled her lungs when she heard the soft pads of his footfalls make their way to the door. His eyes widened in astonishment when he swung the door open and found her standing there.

"Ofarthur, what are you… blessed day," he corrected, remembering himself. His formal greeting pierced through her, as did his averted gaze.

"Granny said you were ill and sent me with a tray of soup for you."

He huffed out a sigh and stepped back, giving her space to enter with the tray. She set it down on his small dining table and heard the door click closed behind her.

"She shouldn't have sent you," he stated, leaning back against the counter with his arms and ankles crossed. He looked like hell. "I'm fine."

"Apparently," Emma scoffed with heavy sarcasm, her eyes taking in his disheveled form and half empty, unlabeled bottle of amber liquid behind his elbow. "I don't think it's soup you need. She should have sent me over with some hair of the dog."

A smile teased at his mouth before he could squash it by sucking his lips between his teeth.

"Is this why I haven't seen you?" she asked, taking a step towards him which caused his entire body to tense. "Have you been up here drowning yourself?"

"I didn't think you'd ever want to see me again. Not after I," the words died on his tongue and he pushed off from the counter, brushing past her in the small space without even touching her somehow.

"Killian, that wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it?" He stopped and spun around with his fists clenched at his sides, a self-flagellating rage whipping through his aura. "I never thought I'd ever be capable of something like that. Forcing myself onto a woman." Emma opened her mouth to object, but he silenced her with a wave of his hand as he backed further away. "Don't deny that's what happened. I took you without your consent. I may not have had to hold you down, but that doesn't make what I did any less forced-"

"Yes, it was forced," she snapped at him. "On both of us, Killian." She closed the distance between them and coaxed him to look at her with her hand beneath his stubbled chin. "Listen to me. You are not like them. What happened the other night… you were not the perpetrator. You were a victim. Just as much of a victim to the atrocities of this place as I am. I don't blame you for what happened."

"Maybe not, but you should," he uttered with soft contempt, closing his eyes tightly.

"Why?"

"Because I… I wanted you," he confessed in a hushed breath of shame. "Since the moment I first laid eyes on you, I've wanted you. When Mrs. Pendragon approached me, I could have refused. I didn't have to say yes, I wanted to. I didn't… I never had any intentions of forcing myself on you, but I couldn't stomach the thought of some other man… she would have found someone else. Someone who wouldn't have given a second thought to holding you down and…"

Emma cupped his face in her hands and drew it closer to her own until their foreheads touched. "Do you really think I didn't want you, too?"

Killian's eyes flew open and he pulled away only as far as necessary to read her expression. "What?"

"I wanted you, too," Emma assured him, tracing his jaw with her fingertips and relishing the tickle of his stubble beneath her palm. "You must have felt how wet I was for you that night."

Killian's Adam's apple bobbed. "That was... for me?"

"For you. Because of you," she whispered, leaning in to him as she stretched up onto her toes. "It's what you do to me whenever I imagine your hands on my body."

Before she could plant her lips on his, he pressed a finger over her mouth and huskily asked, "What's your name, love? Your real name."

"Emma," she breathed. "My name is Emma."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Emma."

His strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him as his mouth crashed down onto hers. His tongue wasted no time plunging past the gasp caught on her parted lips, drinking from her like a man dying of thirst.

~/~

Killian reached up and snatched the covering from Emma's head then tossed it aside. Fumbling for the pins that kept her hair secured in the bun, he gave up trying when she swatted his hand aside to take over the task. He focused his attentions back to her mouth, and groaned at the way her tongue toyed with his. Oh, how he had longed to know the taste of her all these months.

Frantically, they began to claw at one another's clothing. He slipped her uniformed red dress from her shoulders and watched it fall to the floor, pooling at her feet. She stepped out and kicked it aside before yanking at his belt and pulling his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. His shirt was discarded, her undergarments were shed, and he paused to take in the sight of her, bare before him, until she quirked an eyebrow at him to get a move on with the rest of his coverings.

She was back in his arms, soft and smooth and skimming her hands over his body just as he was over hers. Their lips found each other's again, slanting and nipping with an urgent frenzy as he pulled her backwards towards his bed.

"Since this will most likely be a one time thing," Emma panted against his lips, "there's something I should let you know."

"Oh? And what's that, love?"

Her hands slid up his torso until they were planted against his chest. A firm shove had him landing on his bed with a startled oof as she climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

"I like to be on top," she stated with a seductive smirk.

"Whatever my lady wishes."

Killian's head fell back against the mattress while his hands grasped her hips which had begun to rock back and forth over his length, coating him with her arousal. Her fingernails scraped their way through his chest hair, and teased his nipples until they were as hard as… well, other parts of him. One hand reached down to take hold of him, lining him up at her entrance before she sank down over him.

"Bloody fucking hell," he groaned, tightening his grip on her hips.

"Language, Guardian Jones," she admonished. "The Commander would have your tongue removed if he heard you talk like that."

"Aye, and that would be a crime," he panted. "Seeing as how useful my tongue can be."

Abruptly, he sat up, wrapping her in his arms and supporting her as she leaned back, giving him access to her exquisite breasts. His tongue swirled around her nipples, proving its usefulness until they were pebbled into hardened peaks. Without warning, she pushed him back down against the mattress and grabbed his wrists, pinning them over his head as she rocked her hips. Tilting his head up, he watched, mesmerized, as his member slid into her over and over again. His gaze then flicked up to her face, radiant and powerful.

She looked invincible.

"You're a bloody vision, Emma," he praised.

Her jade eyes flew open, lusty and pleading, with her golden hair curtaining their faces. "Say it again," she rasped huskily.

"Emma," he said with a hint of worship on his lips. "Emma."

The bounce in her hips increased and she let go of his wrists. Bracing her hands against his chest she continued to ride him with a rough pace. Her name tumbled from his mouth until they both tumbled over the edge of forbidden ecstasy, leaving them both spent and sated, plastered against each other as their breaths and hearts calmed.

"That was…"

"What sex is supposed to be like," she murmured against his neck.

"Aye, love," he agreed, tightening his arms around her. "Indeed, it is."

~/~

Emma awoke to the song of nesting birds outside of Killian's window. They had become her alarm clock, rousing her while it was still dark so she could sneak back into the main house. Careful not to disturb Killian, Emma slipped from his bed, grabbing the light blanket from its foot as she went. Wrapping it around her, she began to collect her clothes, turning circles in search of her head covering until she found it atop a frame on his dresser.

She picked up the framed photo with reverence, knowing what it meant to Killian. It was the only photo he had of his family, taken before his mother died and his father had run off, leaving his sons to fend for themselves. Killian's brother, Liam, had worked hard to provide for his younger brother - though he infuriatingly insisted on calling me 'little' brother, Killian groused - but after his untimely death while serving in the British Navy, Killian had immigrated to what had still been the United States in order to get away from the ghosts his birth country haunted him with.

He'd been recruited by the Eyes of God while attending university, when the laws had begun to change and women were no longer allowed to hold positions of professorship. It wasn't that he completely agreed with the ideals held by those early architects of what had become the Republic of Camelot, more, he just longed for something to belong to. He'd been listless and untethered, a ripe target for the opportunistic looking to recruit and brainwash a military force to do the dirty work of corrupt men. Emma had sensed the brimming self-loathing in his words as he'd recalled his life story to her in the quiet hours of the night while they basked in the afterglow of their treason.

What was supposed to be a one time thing had progressed to an almost nightly ritual for nearly three weeks. It was reckless and stupid on both their parts, but Emma knew she was the one with the most to lose. If caught, she'd be sent to the Colonies, or executed. As an Eye, Killian was practically untouchable, but it was unlikely he'd escape such a scandal as bedding a Handmaid unscathed. She should put an end to things before they got in too deep.

Too late, she thought to herself.

"Emma?" Killian's groggy voice, thick from sleep, called out from the bed.

"Shhh," Emma soothed. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"Only if you'll come back to bed," he invited, sitting up and reaching out for her.

"I can't," she sighed, though she couldn't stop her feet from walking towards him. "I have to get back before I'm missed."

"You know Granny will cover for you."

She placed her hand in his and gooseflesh rippled up her arm when he began to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. "I know, but I hate putting her in such a dangerous position."

"I think the old girl enjoys a little danger." He tugged firmly on her hand, causing her to lose her balance and fall into his arms. "Sort of like someone else I know," he quipped before capturing her mouth with his and coaxing her into a luxuriously languid kiss.

"Killian," she murmured in a half whine. "I have to go."

"Aye, love. I know," he surrendered, reluctantly releasing her so she could stand. "The Commander has a late meeting tonight," he told her, probably to distract himself while he watched her get dressed. "Perhaps I could come to you for a change? Sneak up to your room after I bring Pendragon back home?"

Emma shook her head. "Too risky."

"No riskier than you sneaking out here every other night."

"We're more likely to be overheard in my room," she said with salacious wink.

"We wouldn't have to do anything," he replied softly, picking at some invisible thread on the sheet that covered him. "We could just… hold one another, and-"

"No," Emma blurted out in a panic, her heart racing at the implication of his words.

"Why not?"

"It's too…" Her words trailed off, her tongue refusing to give voice to what her heart ached for.

"Too what?" Killian's brows unfurrowed as understanding seemed to seep in. "Too intimate?" he accused in a harsh tone, with an even harsher stare. "So, what? I'm worth a good shag, and nothing more? Is that it?"

"Killian, be reasonable," Emma pleaded. "You know there's no future for us here. Once I've served my purpose with the Pendragons I'll be assigned to a new house where-"

"You'll be raped every month until your biological destiny is fulfilled for that Commander and his wife," he seethed, running a hand angrily through his hair.

Emma remained silent. It wasn't as if she could dispute his statement. She'd been fortunate with her posting at the Pendragons, given the Commander's malady. It was unlikely she'd be so lucky a second time. Nothing more was said between them as she slipped her shoes onto her feet and made her way out of his quarters. Clouds hung heavy overhead, mimicking the weight that had settled in her heart, and dawn was just beginning to crest as she opened the door to her room on the top floor of the main house.

Pain exploded across the side of her face and she was knocked sideways into the door jamb where she slammed her head before collapsing to the floor.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" Mrs. Pendragon spat, crouching down and pulling Emma's head up by her hair. "How dare you endanger this household with your recklessness. Do you care nothing of our reputation? Of Killian's? Would you have us all hanging from the wall as an example for others?"

"I-I'm sorry," Emma stammered. "I didn't mean to-"

"I don't want your excuses." She released her punishing grip and pulled something from her pocket. "Before I decide whether or not to send you back to the Red Center, here," she thrust the object at Emma, which she could now see was a banned over-the-counter pregnancy test, "take this."

With trembling hands Emma reached up and took the test from her mistress's hand then got to her feet. Her head throbbed and she could feel a trickle of blood making its way down the side of her face as she approached the bathroom.

"Leave the door open," Mrs. Pendragon commanded.

Emma had become well practiced at swallowing down her pride and dignity, and this time was no different. With her mistress looking on, Emma did what was necessary with the indicator stick, her desires vacillating between the two possible outcomes. Negative would mean going back to the Red Center where she'd be rehabilitated as a Handmaid, if she were lucky. Positive would mean she'd get to stay, that her transgressions would be overlooked, but the price of that small mercy would weigh on her for the next nine months.

No. It would weigh on her for the rest of her life, knowing her child would never know its true parents. Would never know anything but this damnable world, void of hope and true kindness.

Once the deed was done, Mrs. Pendragon snatched the test from Emma's hand. "Now get on your knees and pray that God makes you worthy in some way," she sneered before exiting the bathroom and setting the test on the bedroom windowsill to wait for the results.

Emma, still shaken up over her mistress's attack, made her way to the bathroom sink to wash her hands. Red droplets fell into the basin, swirling with the running water before disappearing down the drain in a wash of pink. Gingerly, she pressed her fingers against the wound on her forehead, wincing at the tenderness swelling beneath her fingertips. Emma turned when she heard the bathroom door creak open a little wider, and knew what the results were before Mrs. Pendragon even opened her mouth.

"Praise be His mercy," she said on a reverent breath, eyes shimmering with unfallen tears of joy.

She walked over to stand next to Emma and placed the pregnancy on the side of the sink, the plus sign jumping off the indicator strip as Emma stared at it. Pregnant. A baby. She was going to have a baby. She was going to have Killian's baby. Elation and despair battled within her to the point she knew not whether her own brimming tears were those of happiness or sorrow.

"He has answered our prayers," Mrs. Pendragon stated, smiling over at Emma with a completely different expression than the one she'd offered only moments ago. Her touch on Emma's hand, now warm and tender, was a contradiction to the backhanded blow still throbbing along her temple, and Emma seethed at the hypocrisy.

"You think I prayed for this?" Emma replied incredulously, causing her mistress's smile to falter. "You think I prayed to bring a baby into this house? Into this world of cruelty you, and your kind, have created?"

Though her smile remained, Mrs. Pendragon's expression hardened. "God knows what is in your heart." All Emma could do was stare, dumbfounded, at the woman until she collected the test, and cleared her throat awkwardly. "I'll have Granny prepare you a nice big breakfast. You're eating for two now, after all."

Emma leaned back over the sink after she'd gone, hot tears now joining the droplets of blood that continued to drip from her face.

~/~

"Blessed day," Granny greeted when Emma entered the kitchen later that morning.

"Blessed day."

"I have your breakfast ready. Eggs and toast with some fruit and a nice big glass of milk." The older woman led her to the table and pulled out her chair for her. Before Emma could sit, she was pulled into an unexpected hug. "God bless you," Granny whispered into her ear, then hurried back to the kitchen.

Emma couldn't bring herself to begrudge Granny her reaction. Children were a miracle, even more so in this day and age when infertility threatened the population more than war and famine combined. When the Mexican Ambassador had visited Camelot a few months ago, she'd told Emma that her village had not had a child born alive in over six years. The fact that a new life now grew within her should be something to celebrate, or to honor at the very least, but all Emma could do was question.

Question what the hell God was thinking, and what she'd ever done to deserve this kind of torment.

Because it was a torment. The truth was, in those moments before her mistress confirmed her condition, Emma had resolved the desires of her heart. She'd wanted the test to read positive. Not because it would mean her protection, but because of the hope such an idea stirred within her. The hope of a future, of a family, of a life where she could raise her child with its father at her side. A life she never had the opportunity to experience with her first child when she'd given birth in jail, out of wedlock. A life that could never be, but one she knew she would cling to every day until the moment she had to put her baby in another woman's arms before she was reassigned, never to see her child or its father again.

At least Killian would be here to watch over their child. Now, more than ever, Emma determined that their dalliances, as he called them, had to end. She couldn't give the Pendragons any reason to have Killian removed from the house.

"What happened?"

Killian's concerned voice called out softly from the back entrance, pulling Emma from her thoughts and reminding her of the gash that had begun to bruise on her forehead.

"She found out," she told him while keeping her eyes averted from his stare. Was he still angry with her? She'd nearly forgotten about their argument. So much had changed in just a few short hours. "About us."

"Are you okay?" He walked towards her, and she could feel his eyes searching for other injuries. "Did she say what she intends to do? Is she going to report us?"

Emma shook her head. "She isn't going to do anything."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." Slowly, her eyes lifted until they met his bewildered gaze. "She isn't going to do anything, because I'm… I'm pregnant."

Emma heard the air rush out of his lungs. "What?"

"She had a test. Must have gotten it off the black market, or something."

His awe-filled gaze fell to her lap and he crouched down onto one knee beside her chair.

"Don't," she protested weakly when he placed his hand over her stomach, choking on emotion that was building at the back of her throat. "It's… it's terrible."

His eyes swept up, seeking hers, which were stubbornly fixed on a painting hanging on the far wall. She couldn't bear to look at him, to see his agreement, the revelation that he, too, thought it terrible news, bloom in those brilliant blues.

"No, it isn't, love."

She swallowed a sob and let out a stuttered breath. Turning her gaze down to his, she nearly wept at the look shining from his face. The one that mirrored what her heart had been trying to suppress all morning. Hope.

Tentatively, she moved her hand to cover his, the two linking together at the junction between their thumbs and forefingers. Killian placed his other hand onto her shoulder then buried his face into the fabric of her sleeve, nuzzling his cheek against her arm before gazing back up at her with a soft smile pulling at his lips.

"Killian," Granny interrupted with a tone of reluctance in her voice. "The Commander wants to see you in his office."

Emma sucked in a worried breath and tightened her grip on Killian's hand. Her eyes widened with the fear that had spiked within her. Meetings in the Commander's office were rarely good.

"It'll be alright, love." When she wouldn't release his hand he brought his other one up to cup her face. "Emma. Everything is going to be alright. I promise."

She nodded and let him pull his hand away as he stood. He gripped her shoulder once more and gave it a soothing squeeze before leaving to answer the summons. Emma took her time eating breakfast, not wishing to leave the kitchen table because she knew Killian would have to pass by this way to return to the garage. When he finally appeared, she pulled him onto the back patio and into a private corner.

"What happened?" she asked urgently. "What did he want?"

"He wanted to thank me," Killian answered bitterly. "For the great service I've done for the family, and for going above and beyond the call of duty."

"Do you think he knows? Do you think she told him about us? I mean… about us being together more than just that one time?"

"Aye. He knows." Killian ran a hand down his face and scratched at the stubble along his jawline.

"We have to stop." The words popped out before she could give them a second thought, stilling his hand then causing it to fall to his side as he stared at her with assessing eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just… It's one thing for us to carry on while they hoped I'd become pregnant, it's another to keep sleeping together when there's no other reason than our own selfish pleasure. We're going to be watched so much more closely now, and I can't… I don't want to risk your position here." She felt a tear slip down her cheek. She hadn't even realized how close to tears she was, and the sight of it softened Killian's expression. "It'll be easier for me," she continued on, barely able to give breath to her words, "to know that you're here, with our child, after I'm forced to leave it behind."

Killian pulled her into his arms and held her while she spent those unexpected tears. His hand rubbed soothing circles over her back while his cheek rested against the top of her head.

"If that's what you want, Emma," he murmured into her hair. "Your heart's desire. I promise that's all I want you to have."

"Well, I can't ever have that," she sniffled with disdain, "but I'd settle for knowing you'll be here to watch out for this child, which means we can't do anything to jeopardize your position here."

"As you wish."