Once Upon a Time 1. The Mug

Humming to herself, Emma begins to unpack the box of dishes in the kitchen, listening to Henry try to explain to Killian what an Xbox is from the living room. As much as Killian has tried to adapt to modern technology, she is afraid that this might be the one to make his brain finally explode.

His exasperated tone makes her chuckle. "Lad, I've fought kraken with less tentacles than this."

Henry laughs and tells him to come back after he's untangled the miles of cords and wires in front of them.

Killian happily leaves the boy to his task, shaking his head in annoyance, and makes his way over to Emma's side. His arm snakes around her waist as he nuzzles sweetly into her neck. Knowing she is well hidden from Henry by the wall separating the kitchen from the living room, Emma turns in his arms and captures his lips with her own. Surprised at her willingness for only a moment, Killian's arms pull her in tighter as he steps between her legs to press her back into the kitchen counter. Emma relished in the electric pull between them, losing herself in the heat of his mouth and the feel of his hook sliding beneath the hem of her shirt. Killian nudges impossibly closer, making sure Emma felt exactly how much he was on the same page as her at the moment. If it wasn't for Henry's exasperated sigh from the other room, Emma might have found herself scarring her son for life in a few moments. Leaning back, she returned Killian's darkened gaze for a moment before reluctantly giving him a light shove to put more appropriate space between them. He had obviously anticipated this move though, as she came crashing into his chest thanks to the hook firmly wrapped around her belt loop.

"Killian!"

"What, love? You really should be more careful." The wink he gave her caused the damn butterflies in her stomach to stir up like a tornado. He dislodged his hook and gave her one more quick peck before moving across the kitchen and away from temptation.

"You are…"

"A pirate, love." With that, he turned and sliced his hook through the tape of the nearest box on the counter.

Emma turned back to her box, attempting to shake the lustful thoughts from her brain and get back to the task at hand. She busied herself with unpacking the plates Mary Margaret had gifted her and Henry, explaining that she should have something from her family to help make her new apartment feel more like home. The delicate china with the blue forget-me-nots weren't exactly Emma's style, but there was something about them that just made her heart tighten a bit. She removed the newspaper carefully and placed them in the sink to be rinsed before they would find their home in the cabinet above the stove.

She finished with her box and turned to see how Killian was faring with his. She found him standing over the box, with his hand inside, but not moving to remove whatever had captured his attention. Moving to his side, she took a deep breath when she saw what his hand was grasping. Reaching inside, she put her hand around his and lifted the object from the box with him. When he finally looked up and she saw the look on his face, she knew without a doubt that she loved this man and she would endeavor to make sure he knew it every day forever.

In their shared grasp was a simple white mug with blue trimming along the rim. Adorning the side, the word "Captain" was painted in strong letters in the same dark blue. Emma took the mug from his hand and placed it on the shelf, directly next to her black one and Henry's Batman mug he used for his hot cocoa. Anyone except the two of them wouldn't understand the meaning behind this moment, but two lost souls who never thought they would find a home had found one with each other.

Killian looked longingly at the shelf, reaching for Emma and pulling her into his side.

"Emma…"

Emma reached up and cupped his cheek, turning his face so she could look him squarely in the eye.

"I'm in this for the long haul, Killian."

Killian had never told her about his conversation with Neal that evening at Granny's, so to hear his own words reflected back at him was as much surprising as completely expected. He and Emma were so similar in so many ways, with their fierce dedication to hold onto the things they loved most being their strongest connection.

Taking advantage of his loss for words, Emma leaned in and whispered in his ear. "Plus, you still owe me that coffee."

With a wink that would rival Killian's best, Emma sauntered to the living room to help Henry with his task.

Killian finally found his voice and hollered, "Wouldn't that require a second date, love?"


	2. The Confession

He's pretty sure he just heard her giggle. Searching his memory, he can't remember a time when that sound has come from her lips. It warms his heart to hear it. He can see her smile from across the room, big and bright and full of life. He's wanted to see her smile more and now…he's lost count of how many he sees in a single day. Sometimes he catches her smiling to herself when she doesn't think anyone is looking. She'll be lost in thought and he'll wait until he sees the slight upturn of her lips before tearing his gaze away. He can't help but be transfixed by her in these moments, as this happiness is all he has ever wanted for her.

Her physical affection is even more surprising. She's been a bit prickly in the past, something she's remarked on about herself more than once. He can remember a time when she would turn on her heel and walk away before accepting a comforting embrace, retreating behind her walls and hiding her heart away. Now, the hand holding, hugs, kisses given freely in public, are all common occurrences. She reaches for her brother every time he enters her orbit, cradling him closely and showering him with butterfly kisses. She's even been connecting with her mother more. Late night chats over cocoa, wine when the conversation calls for it. He had to sleep alone one night after finding them passed out together in Emma's bed amongst a pile of their dresses.

Her magic doesn't scare her anymore. He smiles, remembering the tiny stars she created that glow in her brother's room at night above his crib. After Henry tried to fly using only happy thoughts _and no pixie dust_, she healed his broken wrist without a second thought or a call to Regina. She doesn't use her powers as a crutch, but as a tool only when her wits and inherent strength aren't enough. When her magic is still surging from her palms after overuse, she doesn't retreat and hide, but holds _his_ hand and_he_ brings her back down. _He_ grounds her.

A second giggle shakes him from his musings. He watches as she bestows _him_ with a kiss to the cheek before settling back to her work. _He_ saunters past, giving his customary nod, before making his way to the exit of the station.

"Killian."

The pirate stops and looks back, obviously a bit surprised to hear the use of his given name.

"Yes, _David_."

He walks over to the pirate and steels himself for the confession he knows he needs to make.

**"****I've never been happier to be wrong about something in my entire life."**

Killian looks him in the eye and they share a long, silent conversation. Flashes of heated words and accusations in the Neverland jungle are replaced with the memory of a fireside chat and heartfelt declarations. They both glance to Emma and then back to each other. This time Killian's nod is one of understanding and acceptance.

"Me too, mate…me too."

David gives him a friendly pat to his shoulder, before grasping it a bit more firmly to get his attention.

"If you hurt her, Snow will kill you. She's been aching for some target practice."


	3. Swimming with the Fishes

It's a blissfully quiet day in the Sheriff's Station for once and Emma is finally getting a chance to catch up on all of the paperwork left over from the Shattered Sight nonsense. Who knew that dwarves could do that much damage in such a short amount of time? Just thinking about the mess Sneezy made in the flower shop was enough to turn her stomach.

She noticed Killian had moved from his perch on her desk to the window, looking out over the town with a furrow to his brow.

"Hey, you okay?"

Shaken from his thoughts, he looks back with a smile. "Aye, love, just thinking…"

"About?"

"Well, honestly, about what I am to do with myself now."

Emma rises at this and makes her way over to her pirate. "What do you mean?"

Turning to her and pulling her closer with his hook in her belt loop, "Now that I am a permanent resident of this cursed little town of yours, I need to find myself an occupation. I can't just while away the days watching you work…_as much as I might enjoy the view_."

"Killian, don't you think that villain wrangling is enough work? The next one is bound to arrive any day now. Besides, I don't think we have a very active piracy trade here." That earned her quite the smirk and a pull on her belt loop to bring her closer. Emma couldn't help the urge to lean in to give him a quick peck on the lips.

Quick never seemed to work whenever they connected though as she felt Killian's tongue nudging against her lips. She had to pull back before they gave the entire town quite the show from the window they were still in front of.

Resting his forehead against hers, Killian let out a small sigh. "Love, I'm used to rising before the sun, working long hours, leading a crew… I miss the routine of it all and the feeling of a good days work after a long day."

Emma took a long look in his eyes and felt her heart twinge a bit as she came to a much overdue realization. "Killian, have I ever really thanked you for everything you have given up for me?"

"Love, what I have gained by being a part of your life far outweighs anything I left behind."

Emma leaned in to rest her head on his chest where his newly returned heart beat steadily. Reaching down to grasp his hand in hers, Emma breathed, "I love you so much."

It wasn't the first time she had said it, but every time she did Killian felt his heart race just a bit faster. "I told you I would win your heart, love. It just took a bit longer…and more realms and curses than I envisioned." He interlaced his fingers with hers and brought their joined hands to his lips. "My love for you knows no bounds, my love."

They stayed there for a few minutes, just holding on and relishing the moment of togetherness.

Reluctantly, Emma leaned away and looked out the window. "So…what job might be fitting of Captain Hook here in Storybrooke? Hmm…Oh, wait. You know what? There is a job open over at the docks. Our harbormaster up and disappeared on us a while back. No idea what happened to him, actually."

Killian reached up to scratch behind his ear, forgetting that his hand was still in Emma's. The movement drew her attention to his suddenly guilt stricken face.

"Killian? What is that look for?"

"Well….I think your harbormaster is swimming with the fishes."

Emma pulled away and put her hands on her hips. "What the hell are you talking about? He's dead? How do you know this?"

"No, love, he's not dead. He's _actually_ swimming with the fishes." Killian paused, reluctant to tell this tale, but knowing he had to finish it now. "When Cora and I originally arrived in Storybrooke we were met at the docks by your friendly harbormaster. Cora, being the oh-so-friendly witch that she was, turned him into a fish."

"Oh. My. God. Killian, why didn't you tell me about this?"

"Sure, that would have been quite the conversation. Hi Emma, remember me from the beanstalk? I'm here to kill Rumpelstiltskin and oh, by the way, your harbormaster is now a trout."

They locked eyes at that and both burst out laughing simultaneously. Could their lives be any weirder?

"Okay, so Harbormaster is out. Hmm…. I guess we could use another deputy here, but that would mean David and I would be your boss."

Killian chuckled to himself. "And that would be different than any other day, how?"

Emma walked back over to her desk and rifled through various drawers until she found what she was looking for. Finding her old deputy badge underneath a stack of noise complaints from The Rabbit Hole, she crossed the room back to Killian's side.

Holding the badge out to him, "This would make it official."

Killian took the badge and looked back to her. "I guess I really am one of the good guys now, huh?"

"Yeah, but Killian…you get all of the early shifts."


	4. The Gift

_A/N Yes, this is a Christmas fic. I had originally posted to my tumblr in December, but I wanted to move everything over here. :)_

Since arriving in Storybrooke, Emma has had many firsts. There was the first time she broke a curse. And the first time she slayed a dragon. Oh, and the first time she got sucked into a portal. And, the time she sailed a pirate ship into one. The time travel portal, ice wall, Wicked Witch, evil imps who shall not be named…all firsts she hopes to never have a second of. But then there was also the first time she hugged her parents. And the first time she realized she loved Henry. The first time she held her little brother and realized she had the family she had dreamed of for so long. And then there's Killian, the first man she has let into her heart since Neal. These firsts she wouldn't give up for the world.

Standing in her parents' loft on Christmas Eve, Emma mentally added tonight as yet another first she would cherish. Her first real Christmas. Sure, she and Henry had years of fake Christmases thanks to Regina's curse, but those don't _really_ count. And before that, well, Christmas wasn't a holiday much celebrated in her various foster homes, orphanages and youth hostels. Tonight, with everyone she loves all together, Emma finally understands what all of the fuss was about. It's been about a month since Gold was banished over the town line and things in Storybrooke have been blissfully peaceful. It seems as though whatever big bad was around the corner got a bit delayed upon arrival, which no one was complaining about. Emma and the rest of the town were all relishing the quiet moments, as they have all learned to do whenever they can.

Sipping her eggnog, Emma takes a quiet moment of her own to just observe the scene in front of her. Mary Margaret was on the sofa with her brother, attempting to wrangle him into the reindeer suit Belle had given him for Christmas. Henry and David were contemplating the star that would adorn the top of the tree, but couldn't decide the best plan of action without a ladder. Killian stood by the two, failing to untangle a string of Christmas lights, hopelessly tangling them further with his hook. The whole tableau was something straight out of a cheesy Lifetime Christmas movie, but Emma didn't care. She was soaking in the sweetness and feeling her heart grow lighter with each new holiday tune blasting over the stereo.

"Hey guys, why don't you let me help." She made her way to her trio of decorators and waved her arms to have them step aside. She closed her eyes and let the happiness inside her take over. Her magic pulsed brightly from her palms and with a flick of her wrist the lights untangled themselves from her pirate and wrapped in perfect spirals down the tree. The star lifted gently from Henry's fingers and made its way to top where it settled in perfect alignment. With a final burst of magic, Emma gave the star a faint glow from its center, casting golden reflections about the room.

She opened her eyes and found herself in a huge Henry bear hug. "Mom, you know you are seriously the coolest, right? Er…hey, don't tell my other Mom I said that."

"It'll be our little secret, kid." Henry bounded back to David and they took on the task of getting the tree skirt in place.

Killian made his way to her side and draped his arm loosely around her waist, pressed a light kiss to her temple and whispered in her ear. "You are so beautiful when you use your magic, love." She leaned further into his side at that and they stood there together simply enjoying the lights and the moment.

Before long it was time to sit down for dinner and everyone crowded around the small table to enjoy Mary Margaret's Christmas Eve feast. The conversation was lively, full of tales of past holidays in the Enchanted Forest when Charming and Snow were young as well as some of the fake memories Henry still had from their time in New York. They were happy times for him, even if they weren't real. Killian was quiet for the most part, laughing at the occasional anecdote, but not contributing much to the conversation. One thing she had learned about Killian is that once he let the Captain Hook bravado fall, he was a more reserved, contemplative man than she ever would have guessed him to be. She sensed that he was also still a bit uneasy within the Charming Family dynamic as well, which she could understand. There was a time when he was not the man he is now and he surely remembers being punched in the face in this very kitchen by her father in the not too distant past. Now, he was a guest at his table and dating his daughter. No one could blame him for being a bit off kilter. Heck, she still felt off kilter at times. It's been a crazy few years. Emma sought Killian's hand under the table, causing him to wink and give her hand a squeeze in return.

After dinner, Emma offered to help David with the dishes while Mary Margaret put Neal to bed. Emma spotted Killian on the sofa, instructing Henry as to how to put together the train set that would run around the base of the tree. It was such a sweet domestic moment that Emma found herself daydreaming of what a life with Killian would be like. Would he want to be around for Henry as a father? Does he want kids of his own?

"Emma, the water's about to run over the side of the sink."

Fumbling to shut of the faucet, Emma blushed and went back to the task at hand. "Sorry, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay over there."

Glancing over his shoulder at his grandson and Killian, David gave a small chuckle. "I think Hook can handle putting together a train set. He used to captain a pirate ship, so that should be a piece of cake."

"Yeah, but I remember the crib assembly debacle all too well. I learned that day that highly capable men can still get flustered by simple directions."

David gasped at that. "You wound me, Emma."

She flicked some suds his way, which led to an all-out water fight before they were both through. Dishes eventually washed, Emma found that she really needed to change her soaked through sweater. Making her way up to her room she was surprised to find Killian standing at her window looking out over Storybrooke.

"Hey, I thought you were helping Henry with the train set?"

"Love, we finished that about 20 minutes ago. It was really quite simple." Emma couldn't help but be a bit proud at that and made her way over to Killian at the window. As she drew closer, she could see the furrow to his brow and the faraway look behind his eyes.

Emma reached up and smoothed her fingers through Killian's hair, feeling him lean a bit into her palm. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, love. Just feeling a tad bit overwhelmed. It's been a very long time since I've been around a family like this."

Emma turned his face towards her with the palm that was now resting on his cheek. Looking him in the eyes for a moment, she leaned up and brushed a feather light kiss to his lips. "Stay here a minute. I'll be right back."

Emma grabbed a new sweater out of her wardrobe and snuck out the door to change in the bathroom. Before heading back to her bedroom she ran downstairs and grabbed a small gift from under the tree. Her family looked at her from the sofa where they were now huddled together watching a holiday movie on TV.

"Um…we'll be back down a bit later. I want to give Killian his present early…and in private."

David choked on his eggnog, causing Emma to realize just how her last statement had sounded. "Oh god, that is NOT what I meant."

Before she could embarrass herself further, Emma sprinted back upstairs and quietly shut the door to her bedroom once she was inside. Killian was still at the window, but the melancholy expression from before was now replaced with a look of amusement at Emma's bright red face and lack of breath.

"Sorry, things got a bit…embarrassing downstairs. I really need my own place."

Killian's bright eyed grin and deep chuckle brought Emma back to the present moment. Reaching behind her back, she held out the small wrapped box towards him.

"Merry Christmas, Killian."

The shock that reflected on his face was enough to make Emma's heart hurt a bit for him. Like her, holidays have been few and far between and gift giving an even rarer occasion. She mentally made a note to find ways to give him little gifts more often.

"Love, you didn't have to get…"

She interrupted him before he could finish. "I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to."

Emma made her way over to him at the window and placed the box in his hand. He looked at her with slightly misted over eyes and used the tip of his hook to slice gently through the wrapping paper. Lifting the lid, he found inside what looked to be a charm. Lifting it out of the box he gasped a bit when he realized that it was a perfect replica of the compass he and Emma had retrieved from the beanstalk. But …it was only the left half of it.

"Emma, I…"

Reaching up, she placed her fingers to his lips, stopping him from saying anything else. With her other hand she reached under the collar of her sweater and pulled out the necklace she was wearing around her neck. Hanging from the chain was the right side of the compass. Looking up at Killian, she found him focusing on her with so much awe and love that she was the one who was starting to feel overwhelmed.

Emma took a deep breath and said what she needed to say. "I used to wear the keychain Neal gave me to remind me never to trust anyone again. And I didn't…for a very long time. That day on the beanstalk you scared the hell out of me. I wanted to trust you, but my fear of being hurt again won out and I am so sorry about that. However, that compass brought me home and…you followed. You've come back for me so many times and forced my walls down brick by brick. You made me want to trust my heart to someone again, Killian…to you. I'm going to wear this to remind myself that trusting my heart to you will always lead me home."

Killian's resolve finally broke and his lips crashed into hers, his arms almost crushing her in the strength of his embrace. Passion, love, acceptance…everything they were feeling at the moment, could be felt from the fusion of their lips and the melding of their bodies from chest to knees. Killian pulled away first, after taking a shaky breath he leaned his forehead to hers, while still holding her as close as he possibly could.

"Emma…I am having trouble finding the words to express everything I am feeling at the moment. Well, no, actually, I think the perfect sentiment would be…I love you. You know that I do, but I needed to say the words out loud. My love for you has changed my life, Emma. I promise to cherish your heart with every part of me from now until forever."

Emma couldn't help the tears that were now rolling down her cheeks and Killian reached up and brushed them away gently with his thumb. He knew she wasn't ready to say she loved him yet, but he didn't need her to. The way she was looking at him and the words she had already said tonight would keep him going for a few more centuries. He leaned down and pressed another lingering kiss against her lips, but pulled back before either of them could get carried away.

"As much as I would love to spend the rest of the evening here in your bedchambers, love, your family is probably wondering what has kept us for so long."

Emma chuckled at that. "Oh, I know exactly what they are thinking, trust me."

Emma turned to lead him from the room, but he clasped her wrist and turned her back to face him. Seeing his new charm on the end of his hook, he reached it towards her. "Love, can you put this on my necklace for me?"

Shifting her arm so she could clasp his hand that was holding her wrist, she laced her fingers with his. He felt a slight tingle in his palm and watched as the charm slid off his hook and attached itself to his necklace. With wide eyes he watched as both his charm and Emma's began to glow and a single beam of light stretched from hers directly into his. He could feel warmth radiating from the charm against his chest and then the light faded and everything felt normal again.

"Love, what was that?"

"When Elsa and I were practicing spells I learned a few new ones. I just enchanted the charms so if we are ever separated, all you have to do is hold it in your palm and think of me and it will guide you home….to me. Mine will do the same."

Killian raised their linked hands to his lips and placed a kiss to her knuckles. "You are bloody brilliant, Emma. Have I told you that lately?"

"Oh, only three times today, but a lady can never get too many compliments…"

Burying his face in her neck, Killian proceeded to whisper as many flowery praises as he could think of between nibbling kisses to her pulse point. Needless to say, it was another twenty minutes before they rejoined their first Charming Family Christmas downstairs.


	5. Unlikely Allies

_A/N: I've had this ficlet rolling around in my brain and just had to get it out. Apparently I have a mighty need for some Snow/Killian bonding in 4B. No Emma in this, but she is mentioned._

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><p>There's stillness at this late hour that is equally calm and foreboding, making him more alert as he makes his nightly rounds. The sounds of his footsteps are all that can be heard, outside of the occasional rustle of leaves or scampering of a cat in the alley behind Granny's. As he surveys the silence he hopes for another night of nothing, not content until he's sure, before he'll finally succumb to his slightly lumpy mattress back at the Inn.<p>

His ears perk up suddenly at the unmistakable sound of a car rumbling around the corner, leaning into the side of the building to stay hidden, instantly on edge as he waits to see the owner of the vehicle. The appearance of Mary Margaret's station wagon couldn't have been a bigger surprise. She appears to be alone and not in any hurry, which somewhat alleviates his initial worry that something has happened. His curiosity, however, is indeed engaged and he steps into the streetlight to catch her attention.

She smiles as she sees him, slowly rolling up to where he's standing on the sidewalk. She has to unbuckle her seatbelt so she can lean across the vehicle to roll down the window, giving him time to do a quick scan of the car. Baby Neal is in the back seat, his chubby fingers wrapped around the half full bottle in his mouth.

"Killian? What are you doing out so late?"

He steps forward and leans down, giving her a look of confusion. "Your highness, I must ask you the same thing, especially since you have the little prince out with you. Can I be of assistance?"

Mary Margaret gives him an obviously tired smile before shaking her head.

"Oh, no, we're okay. The little _devil_ back there just wouldn't stop fussing. I read in one of my parenting books that sometimes babies like the feeling of a moving car, that the motion will calm them somehow. I figured I'd give it a shot."

Killian looks fondly into the back seat, a wistful smile taking over his features. "Aye, I can understand that, milady. I must admit that it took me a while to learn how to sleep on a bed without the roll of the waves underneath me. The stillness was, I don't know, challenging."

When he turns his attention back to her he sees that Mary Margaret is looking at him with a contemplative expression, almost as if she's trying to read him somehow. The two of them had never spent any time alone, both of them slightly unfamiliar with how to go about a conversation without Emma or David as a buffer. He looks back at Neal, wondering what he should say to break the silence that has fallen between them.

Suddenly, she's leaning forward and Killian feels the passenger door pressing into his thighs, realizing she is attempting to push the door open from the inside. He steps back slightly and she looks up at him.

"Keep me company?"

Placing his hands on the door, he gives her a quick nod, before sliding in next to her and closing the door behind him. He notes the tiny unicorn hanging from her rear-view mirror, tiny prisms dancing from the streetlight on the corner reflecting on the glass charm. He feels as if there must be a story behind its presence, but doesn't ask.

"So, Killian, you never answered me as to why you are out and about at almost 2am."

The car was moving again now, slowly rolling down the empty street. He contemplates how to answer her question without revealing too much. He'd been able to keep his fears from Emma, not wanting to burden her unnecessarily unless there was a reason. Glancing over to Mary Margaret, he could see she was patiently waiting for an answer. He hopes he can somehow evade this line of questioning altogether through deflection.

"Just out for a stroll. I've always been a bit of a night owl."

"Killian, are you forgetting that we spent many nights together in Neverland? You were usually quick to fall sleep, but always the first to rise. I've also seen you pass out on our couch before 8pm on more than one occasion, so why don't you try again?"

What was it with the women in this family? They were too perceptive for their own good. He turns to look out the window, knowing he was caught, hoping he can find the right words to explain.

"Aye, my apologies… I was, well, keeping an eye on things, I suppose. It's been a bit too quiet lately and I don't want any of us to be caught unawares."

"You're worried Gold will come back."

She really cut to the quick. He was reminded of the Snow White he had encountered during his fateful trip to the past, her forceful nature and directness something he definitely admired, even if it was directed at him at the moment. Realizing she wouldn't settle for anything but the truth, he forged ahead.

"I can't let him hurt Emma. Or anyone she loves. He'll never be gone from our lives; I've fought him far too long and know how his evil mind works. With Belle still here, I know he won't stay away a minute longer than is necessary."

His fist was clenched at this point, determinedly staring at his hook in his lap. Mind reeling back to stupid deals and lies and pain, wishing that the Crocodile would prove him wrong, knowing that was a fools thought.

Mary Margaret's soft touch to his wrist pulls him from his internal darkness, realizing suddenly that the car was stopped and she had turned in her seat towards him.

"Killian. Look at me."

Unable to not abide her wishes, he straightened and met her gaze.

"I don't know if you've spoken the words to my daughter yet, but I know that you love her. And that love makes you want to protect her above all else, including yourself and your own safety. I admire you for that, but you need to stop. You're part of a family now, Killian. We look out for each other. Doing things alone isn't in the cards for you anymore, do you understand me?"

He was dumbstruck, completely overwhelmed by many things that she had just uttered aloud. Unable to find the words to respond, he forced himself to nod his acquiescence. She was apparently satisfied with that, as without another word she was turning back forward in her seat and pulling the car back onto the road.

"Now that we've settled that, what else shall we talk about, Captain?"

And that's how it began. Captain Hook and Snow White could be seen on many a night after this one, huddled together in her station wagon, patrolling the streets of Storybrooke with a sleeping toddler in the backseat.


	6. hooks & hands

_One-shot inspired by the 4X12 promo __pics__.The hook holding was just too much for me to handle._

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><p>"Hey, are you okay?"<p>

Her quiet voice shook him from his internal musings, realizing suddenly that they had already arrived in front of his room at the Inn. He tore his gaze from the cause of his contemplative silence, her hand that was still wrapped casually around his hook. Seeing her green eyes looking at him with concern, he forced a smile and attempted to keep his jumbled mess of thoughts from her.

"Of course, love, why?"

As she has taken to do, she lifted her free hand up to cradle his cheek, her head cocked slightly to the side as she gave him a look that clearly said that he wasn't getting away with hiding from her. Not saying anything further, she kept him locked in her gaze in a silent conversation of understanding and patience. He didn't know how to voice what was bothering him, as it wasn't exactly clear in his own head, really.

Dropping his gaze back down to his hook and her hand, he let out a small sigh before attempting to find the words.

"It's _this_, I guess." He gestured towards his hook with his head, still not able to meet her eyes. "I'm not sure how to feel about you holding it. I'm sorry, Swan, it's really hard to explain."

She dropped her hand and he swore he could feel the loss, despite the lack of any real connection to the metal and leather to his actual nerve endings. Before she could misunderstand him, he reached out with his right hand to grasp the hand she dropped, pulling her forward slightly. He knew he had to quickly find a way to express what he was feeling before he hurt her. This new intimacy between them was so new and he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize it.

"Swan, I never imagined that you'd ever look at my hook as something to hold as if it was a part of me. When you reached for it at dinner I, well, I think I stopped breathing. I'm feeling simultaneously elated and ashamed at the same time and it's driving me a bit mad, to be honest."

"Killian, look at me."

He did. As soon as he had his cobalt eyes focused on hers, she reached for his hook again and brought it up between them.

"This _is_ a part of you, Killian. I held it because it felt natural for me to. Honestly, I didn't really think about it before I did it. Do you not want me to?"

"God, no, love. That's not it. Bloody hell, I'm making an arse out of myself here. I'm just not used to viewing my hook as something…_good_. No one I care about has ever touched it the way you did tonight."

Emma's slight chuckle was surprising and it was his turn to look at her with confusion. "Really Swan, what about that was funny?"

"I'm sorry. It's just..well, it's not the first time I've held it, Killian."

"I bloody well think I'd remember something like that love."

He felt her lean a bit closer to him and he watched as she began to trace her fingers along the curve of his hook that was still raised between them, her eyes turning seductive as she did so. Suddenly he felt lightheaded and hazy, as if he was reliving a memory that felt more like a dream. His heart began to race as she stepped forward, trapping his hook between her breasts and his chest. Her breath was warm on his neck as she leaned forward, her lips grazing his ear as she spoke.

"I have a confession to make…"

"Most women do." Wait, what did he just say? Those words came from his mouth without thought, making him feel as though he was outside of his body and someone else was in control altogether. Not that he was minding, however, as whoever was pulling the strings was making this quite enjoyable for him.

Emma pulled back suddenly and gave him a knowing look. "So, you do remember?"

"Lass, I have absolutely no idea what is happening right now or what I am supposed to be recalling, but I don't rightly care as long as you keep whispering in my ear like that." He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she stepped further back, placing her hands on her hips.

"Damn, I was hoping I'd sparked your memory just now. Your former self holds too many of our firsts, Killian. First time we met, first drink together, first kiss. It's damn frustrating."

Sudden awareness overtook him at that, and he huffed in frustration. He wondered if there would ever be a time when he would stop being jealous of himself.

"Bugger, this all happened during our journey to the past with _him_, didn't it love?"

"Yeah, back at the tavern while I was keeping you, er _him_…occupied."

"Bloody hell." He reached up and scratched behind his ear, feeling even more out of sorts now than he had when this whole conversation started. A sudden realization hit him and he looked at Emma with an incredulous look.

"Wait a minute. You mean to tell me that even when you were with him, when he was still dangerous, you didn't hesitate to reach for the hook?"

He waited as she looked at him thoughtfully, her eyes darting between his hook and his face. She stepped back towards him again before speaking.

"Killian, I am only admitting this to you because I think you need to hear it _and_ so we can put this whole matter to rest once and for all. There's just something…sexy about that damn hook, okay? So stop being weird about it and get over here and kiss me."

He only allowed his shock to set in for a second before grabbing her and hauling her towards him. Obliging her request for a kiss, his lips sought hers as he wound his arms around her waist. She angled her head, prompting him to deepen the kiss, their tongues slowly caressing as her grip on his arms tightened in response. She slowly eased the pace of the kiss as she moved her hands from his arms up to cradle his face, giving his lips a few slow nips before stopping to lean her head back slightly to look him in the eyes.

"You know, Killian, there's one first I'd _really_ like you to remember."

"What might that be, love?" He really hoped she was meaning what he thought she was, but he didn't want to make any assumptions.

"Well, I was promised a _nightcap_ by a devilishly handsome pirate many, many years ago and I thought it was bad form to keep a lady waiting?"

The look of mischief on her face wasn't quite masking her obvious nervousness at her rather forward proposition. He straightened so he could ease his arm between them, reaching his hook towards her for her to grasp. When she did, he stepped to her side and turned to unlock his door. Once it was open he gestured for her to enter with his right hand, bowing a bit at the waist as he did so.

"Aye, milady, bad form indeed. It would be my honor to fulfill that promise, my love."


	7. I'm here

_J__ust a little post 4X12 ficlet. I loved seeing Emma supporting Killian and I needed more…_

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><p>He isn't there. He'd been there every morning at this same time for the past few weeks, but today, he wasn't there. She waited, her hip resting on the cold hood of the bug, eyes searching the street in front of her, attempting to ignore the panic rising in her chest. He was always there. They never spoke of it. He was just there one morning, greeting her with coffee and a kiss, starting their day together. It became a routine, one she had grown to love, much like him. But he wasn't there.<p>

She calls his phone and it rings and rings and rings. He had never learned how to set up his voicemail and she kept on forgetting to show him how. He was always there, so it never seemed all that important. She pushes herself from the hood and walks slowly towards the library, feeling cold without him by her side, his smile not there to warm her from the inside as it always seemed to do. The missing weight of his arm around her waist was making her feel as if she would float away like a boat without its anchor.

She sees Belle and her steps quicken, desperation beginning to take hold as she meets the librarian's questioning eyes. His presence was a part of Belle's routine, too, a newly forged friendship built out shadowed hearts and overwhelming regret. The brunette gives her a tremulous smile, opening the door to invite her in, neither speaking their fears aloud. He wasn't there and they both need him now.

They find him together. The research board on the floor again, photos and notes scattered about the foyer, pins crunching under their shoes as they walk. The trail of books leads to his sleeping form, head buried in his elbow amidst a pile of old tomes, pages crumpled and wrinkled in anger and frustration under his fingers. The photo of the old man's house is displayed in front of him, looming as a reminder of what he has still failed to achieve. She feels Belle's hand touch her arm and she turns, seeing her nod before disappearing to the back of the library, thankful for the silent understanding of who he needs now.

His hair is soft under her fingertips as she strokes him gently, kneeling down to press a light kiss to his forehead as he begins to stir. His eyes open slowly, the dancing brightness she's accustomed to seeing in his blue depths is muted, searching for something she hopes he can see in her. He lifts his head, leaning into her palm as she cups his cheek, frustration and fatigue pouring out of him in waves. She stands, holding out her hand to him and waits. The waiting is new for her, but she does it, for him.

His eyes turn back to his task, fingers gripping the edge of the table, knuckles turning white with the force of his grasp. His sigh is long, but he stands, knees cracking and leather rustling as he stretches. He takes her hand, his gaze locked to their entwined fingers as he allows her to pull him in her wake out into the street. The sun is bright and he hides his eyes behind his wrist, the metal of his hook reflecting the rays of the morning light like a beacon. Her arm is tight around his waist now, and he grips her side like a lifeline, allowing his body to sway into hers as she leads him. She's always leading him.

She pushes inside his room and steers him towards his bed, peeling his jacket from his shoulders as he finally lifts his gaze to meet hers. There are always new emotions when he looks at her now, the strongest he believes his love, but he's still afraid to hope. This time he sees strength. It's not the savior strength that comes naturally to her, but strength for him, for them, silently asking him to let her take his burdens as her own. He wants to. He will.

She pulls back his covers and he sits, toeing off his boots before sliding under the sheet she is holding up for him. His head rests on the pillow and she sits by his hip, her fingers once again finding their way to his hair as he looks at her with tired eyes. She smiles a small smile and he feels another piece of his heart fall back into place. Lifting his hand from under the sheet, he stills her hand in his hair, pulling her palm to his lips. He leaves a small caress there, before pulling her down, silently asking for what he needs and hoping she understands.

She does. Her boots end up beside his on the floor as she curls against his side, his hand still clasped with hers between them on the small bed. Her lips find his forehead as he begins to drift to sleep, her whispered promise the last he hears before she enters his dreams.

"_I'm here."_


	8. thank you

_The filming spoilers from 4X20 prompted this little fluffy ficlet. I have a mighty need for something like this to play out…_

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><p>She hasn't spoken since her whispered <em>"Let's get out of here…" <em>back in front of Granny's as she led him from the gathered chaos of townsfolk to the quiet solitude of the docks. He can sense there's something she needs to say, but for now she seems to be content clinging to his side like a lifeline, her hand pressed so firmly over his chest that he wonders if there will be a permanent mark there on his skin. It would be fitting, as there is a permanence already existing in the heart beneath, for her and her alone.

Her head shifts slightly and he can feel the sweet press of her lips to his neck as she nuzzles even closer, her nose cold against his jaw and her breath warm against his throat. He wants to ask her if she is alright, but he senses that she needs the silence, so he waits. There is a certain irony to their location now, wrapped up in each other's arms in the same spot where she told him that she was planning to take Henry back to New York, that her home wasn't here, not with him. The magnitude of how much has changed since then is staggering, his arms tightening around her as he lets that memory be replaced by this one.

"Thank you."

He is startled by her words, spoken quietly into his neck, her hand now moving from his heart to cradle his cheek as she seeks his gaze. There is nervousness behind her expression, but he can see a gentle determination as well and other emotions he only ever imagined her showing him in his dreams.

"For what, love?"

Her hand moves from his cheek to his hair, her fingertips lightly tracing the shell of his ear as she leans a bit closer. Everything about her a distraction, but he wills himself to let this moment play out, only allowing his grip to tighten on her waist in response.

"For being patient with me."

"Swan, I would wait…" Her finger stops his lips from moving and she shakes her head. She's not done. He nods and she traces his bottom lip lightly with her fingertip before moving her hand back to his jaw, her thumb caressing lightly along his skin.

"You know better than anyone that I don't excel at expressing my feelings, but I need you to know… " His heart is in his throat as he watches her steel herself, her eyebrows furrowing in frustration as she tries to speak the words he's needed and longed to hear. He could help her, say them first to give her courage, but he selfishly longs to follow her as he does in most things.

She closes her eyes briefly and sighs, her hand moving down to rest on his chest, his body swaying towards her on instinct. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead and leans back, giving her an encouraging smile when she looks up at him again.

"I just missed you so damn much and I was only gone a day and dammit…I haven't had enough experience being in love and I just don't know what to say."

His eyebrows shoot up and his mouth opens slightly as the realization of what she has just confessed passes between them. He feels her fingers grasp his vest, breaking him from his stunned stupor and he moves, leaning forward until his lips are just barely caressing hers as his hand moves up her back under her jacket.

"I love you too, Swan."

She pulls him forward and the world around them disappears. The sheer volumes of words unspoken pass between their lips as they kiss, centuries of pain evaporating around him as he allows himself to finally believe this is real. She pulls back slightly and he feels her reach down to pull his arm from around her so she can grasp his hand. His breath catches as she places his palm firmly against her heart. Her eyes meet his and he can feel his own heart begin to fall in sync with the rapidly beating pulse under his fingertips.

She smiles as she leans closer, her nose brushing his as she removes all remaining distance between them. "It still works."


	9. of rubies and regret

_I had this idea pop into my head, probably brought on by the Killian angst coming our way. So, here's a little bit of angsty fluff. Is that a thing_

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><p>"Swan, can we swing by my quarters before heading in? The little prince left his mark on my shoulder it seems, and I would like to change my shirt."<p>

Emma couldn't help but smile at the memory of seeing fearsome Captain Hook burping her little brother over his shoulder when she came down the stairs at the loft this afternoon. She had stopped in her tracks and just watched him slowly soothing and cooing, turning in slow circles in the kitchen under Snow's watchful, and somewhat wistful, eye. She met her mom's gaze from the stairs and they had shared a quiet moment, Snow looking pointedly at Killian and back to her, not even attempting to hide a hopeful smile. Emma had darted her eyes away from her mother as her cheeks had begun to blush, her mind overrun with images of tiny bright blue eyes, unruly black hair and chubby fingers grasping curved steel.

"Love?"

She smiled up at Killian, realizing he was still waiting for her response at the side entrance of Granny's.

"Sorry, of course. We can't let Killian Jones be seen in public in such disarray. You have a reputation to uphold." She quirked her eyebrow at him and squeezed his arm as he laughed, his long strides now leading her up the back stairs to his room.

"You know me too well, Swan." She felt his lips graze her hair lightly before he withdrew his arm from her grasp, unlocking his door and stepping to the side to usher her in. Crossing the threshold she realized that this was the first time she had actually been in here. She's become intimately acquainted with the wall outside of his room on more than one occasion, but his _infuriatingly_ gentlemanly ways always stopped him from leading them to the privacy of his room. Silently wishing Belle and Will weren't waiting for them in the diner, she pushed away the rising desire to help him remove that shirt and not find another one until tomorrow morning.

"Be ready in two shakes, love." She watched as he stripped off his jacket and moved to unbutton the ridiculous number of buttons on his vest. Knowing she needed to distract herself from the show unfolding in front of her, she turned to his dresser, stepping closer to examine the various keepsakes he had on display. She recognized the telescope, having seen him use it on the Jolly and in Neverland, but not since their return from the past. She felt a pang of guilt, knowing that was because of her. Beside the telescope was a small piece of leather she hadn't seen before, her fingers reaching out to run along the embossed letters, wondering if it belonged to him or Liam. Her heart told her it was the latter, seeing as how well cared for it was. She made a mental note to ask him about it another time, desperate to get to know him better, continuing her journey of scaling his 300 year old walls.

Her gaze fell on a small metal tray with nothing in it but a gold ring, one she immediately recognized from their first date, the red ruby catching the light from the lamp on the edge of the dresser. It was small; obviously a woman's ring and she wondered if perhaps it belonged to Milah.

"It was my mother's."

His quiet voice from behind her startled her, his arms moving to wrap around her waist as his chin rested on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snoop. I'm just curious to know you, all of you."

His arms tightened at that confession and she wound her fingers through his hand on her waist.

"I believe it was her engagement ring, but that is just conjecture. She wore it on the traditional finger, so I always assumed it was from my father. One evening as I sat by her bed she took it off and pressed it into my palm. I was still a wee lad, but I knew that she wasn't long for the world and she was giving me something to remember her by. She didn't say anything, just held my hand with the ring inside it until she fell asleep that night."

Emma's heart was breaking for him as he spoke, willing herself not to cry for him, but to be his strength as he had been for her so many times before. She could feel his heart beating fast behind her and the ragged timbre of his breathing as he pressed closer to her.

"You wore it on our first date."

She felt his breath on her neck as he exhaled, could feel his smile form as his dimple pressed into her chin.

"Aye. When I was getting ready that night I felt as though I was finally finding my way back to the man I could have been, someone my mother would have been proud of. It felt right to wear it on my newly restored hand."

His arms loosened and he began to step back. "If I would have known how wrong I was, I never…"

She refused to let go of his fingers, stilling him in his tracks so he couldn't retreat from her. She turned, keeping his hand firm in her grasp as she took in his defeated stance, his head turned away from her and his mother's ring.

"Killian, please look at me." His eyes were cloudy when he complied, sadness and regret clear on his face as his centuries old self-loathing reared its ugly head once again. She stepped forward, reaching her thumb up to gently rub at his temple, attempting to ease the tension with her touch.

"I'm going to continue to say this to you in hopes that one day you will believe me. That hand was cursed and if I ever see Gold again I will force him to admit that to you. If that day never comes, you'll just have to learn to agree with me and move on."

She let go of his hand so she could wrap her arm around his waist, waiting until he did the same before she continued. "You're a good man, Killian. I'm lucky to have you by my side and I know your mother would be proud of the man you have become."

His body fell into hers at that, arms tightening around her as he pressed his face into her neck. She held him there, slightly rocking as her fingers wound into his hair, his lips finding her shoulder in a gentle caress. After a long moment, he lifted his head slowly, turning so he could capture her lips with his own, shreds of sadness escaping with each gentle caress and breath shared between them. Her hands cupped his cheeks as she tipped on her toes to kiss his forehead, causing a small laugh to escape his lips. When she looked back down he was smiling a small smile and she knew she had won this battle, but the war within him was far from over.

"Do you like rubies, Swan?"

Her eyes widened briefly before she could find the words to reply, wondering if she was catching the true meaning of his question. In that moment, she realized that she hoped she was right and that one day that ring would find a home on her hand, placed there by her soft-hearted pirate.

She returned his smile with one of her own, reaching for his hand again to lace their fingers together. "Red just happens to be my signature color."


	10. hold my hand

_Another fluffy ficlet (I know, not surprising) inspired by all the the hand holding._

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><p>When they meet for breakfast, she reaches for his hand to lead him into their booth and doesn't let go until their food arrives, sometimes reaching for him between bites of her pancakes. Her fingers tangle with his before the door closes at their backs as he leads them past the outdoor furniture to walk her to the station to start her workday. There's reluctance to her letting go as she bids him goodbye in her office, her grasp tightening a bit before she relents and her hand pulls back to her desk. When he brings her grilled cheese at lunchtime she lets the sandwich grow cold in the bag while she sits, talking with him as her fingers trace circles on his palm. In the evening when they are bundled together during their stroll back to the loft, her hand somehow finds its way inside of his pocket, her warm palm covering his underneath the leather.<p>

As the days go by, he begins to wonder if there is something she is trying to communicate to him with her touch, the feel of her hand a welcome, albeit unexpected, constancy in their courtship. Being a man of only one, there are times when her obsession with his hand becomes a hindrance, but he'll never admit this to her. He spent so long being pushed away that he would rather wait for her to release him than ever pull back on his own. He knows that may be a weakness, that his love for her holds too much power, but he has come to terms with that fact. On the rare times that he is first to reach out, he watches her expression every time, never failing to see a slight look relief and something else he can't quite ascertain.

They are sitting on the couch in her office one night, his hand tucked into hers as she looks over a file, his eyes searching her face as he tries to summon the courage to ask her, his curiosity finally taking over his fear of setting off her insecurities.

"Swan, can I ask you something?"

Setting down the file on her lap, she turns to face him, giving his hand a light squeeze. He barely holds back a flinch, her action behind the question he needs to ask.

"It's not that I mind, love. In fact, I quite enjoy it, but I was wondering about the hand holding." His chin drops a bit as the urge to scratch at his ear becomes unbearable, the lack of his hand once again becoming an issue. "Have you always been so fond of it, love?"

He looks up at her, finally, terrified of how she might react. She doesn't move to release his hand, which is a good sign, but she isn't meeting his gaze either. He sees a slight tint appear on her cheeks, and he knows she is embarrassed. Tightening his grip on her fingers, he slides a bit closer to her on the couch, the movement prompting her to finally look up at him. She looks him in the eye for a moment before she smiles, a small, shy smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"The first time I held your hand it was so I could betray you. I know we've never really spoken of that moment, and I don't know if we need to now, but it's something I think of often. Now that things are different, now that _I'm_ different, I hold your hand as a reassurance of _us_. I guess I hope that the more I hold your hand like _this_, I might be able to forget about when I held it in fear. I know that sounds silly…"

He doesn't let her finish, too overwhelmed by the words she has spoken and all that it means for him to have heard her say them. His lips press firmly on the smooth skin at the top of her hand that he has lifted to his mouth, followed by feather light caresses to her wrist, leading to a gentle exploration of the crease of her elbow with the tip of his tongue. He lifts his head, now nose to nose with her, his hook pressing gently into the small of her back to bring her closer as he leans in to capture her lips with his own. He can feel her sigh of relief as she responds, her confession blooming between them like a sunflower seeing the first gentle rays of the sun on a warm summer morning. As the minutes, _or hours_, pass as they embrace, he thinks that if she allows it, he will hold her hand until the end of his days.


	11. in repose

"Hey, are you ready to…?"

She stops, noticing that he is asleep, the book he had been reading resting on his chest, the pages crumpling a bit between his fingers. His long legs are slightly bent at the knee, pressed up against the back of the sofa, leaving a small amount of room for her to sit on the edge of the cushion below his hip. She settles carefully, not wanting to wake him, instead wishing to observe him in his quiet slumber. In Neverland he never really slept, merely dozed between guard shifts, body always tense and alert like a cat ready to pounce without warning. But now, he was defenseless, _peaceful_.

He looks years younger like this, the worry lines smoothed, the tense set of his jaw relaxed and the slight curve of his lips forming a gentle smile. She itches to reach over and trace his lips with her fingertips, curious if he would instinctively lean into her touch if she was to press her palm lightly against his cheek. In the past few weeks they had settled into a new place, full of casual touches and absentminded kisses, their bodies craving the simple contacts they had both been missing for so long. In repose, would he still reach for her in the same way?

As she watches him sleep, she silently hopes that he is as happy as she is in their life together as it is now; a partnership that's strengthens as each day passes. Her heart begins to race as she contemplates all that he means to her, all that he has become for her, her strength and her comfort, her best friend and confidant, the man she has somehow fallen completely in love with. She closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, willing the fear at this realization to not take hold. She doesn't want to run anymore, not from him, from them.

When she opens her eyes again she sees that he is now awake, his eyes searching hers as the worry lines on his face begin to appear again. He begins to shuffle as if he is going to sit up and she places her hand over his chest to stop him, gently prying the book from between his fingers so she can set it on the floor. She pushes lightly on the side of his hip until he catches on to her intention, his body shifting further into the back of the sofa to make room for her. She can feel his eyes on her as she leans down to unzip her boots, his hand now resting lightly atop her thigh, his fingers flexing slightly against the denim.

She turns back to him and smiles, shifting her position to her other hip so she can stretch out beside him, his body molding to hers automatically as if they had done this many times before. Her head comes to rest on his shoulder as her arm reaches for his from his side, tucking his hook under her palm over his heart. His free hand on her waist tightens as their legs tangle together in the tight space, sparks igniting as new, undiscovered contacts are made for the first time. She can feel his racing heartbeat begin to slow as she relaxes further into his arms, his hand now holding her firmly against him with a gentle pressure between her shoulder blades. Tears start to form behind her eyes, suddenly overcome with emotion at the comfort of being held by someone who loves her, realizing he hasn't known this feeling in more years than she has been alive. She leans in to press her lips softly against his neck at the exact moment she feels his caress her forehead, unsurprisingly that in this, as in all things, they fall perfectly in sync.


	12. save me

_A/N: I had a really long day and needed to unwind with some writing. This is angsty to start and is a bit of speculation on my part based on various filming spoilers for 4X16 and next week's promo. So yeah…spoiler alert._

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><p>There's a depressing irony to this moment. Before she stepped foot in this town she was alone and now, after years of trying and <em>hoping<em> and finally accepting she wasn't alone anymore, she found herself here. Completely and totally….alone. Her parents, thought to be carved out of heroic stone had proved to be made of lye, crumbling under her fingertips like poison underneath the smooth, white surface. Henry, he doesn't need her anymore, not really. She barely sees him and when she does, he's got his head in that damn book, searching for someone else's happy ending. And _him_, he was the worst of all. He'd come back for her so many times, led her to believe that no matter what he would always be there. But where was he now? Nowhere. He was gone. He wasn't different. Everyone always leaves.

The town feels deserted, just like her heart, cold like the bench underneath her legs. It's late, far past the witching hour. Witch. Is that what she is, what she should be? It would be easier. Darken the edges of her magic and she could slide into the night, without a care, no one expecting her to save the day. The tingle in her palm at that thought is powerful, addictive. Every other villain in this town gets to use the excuse of a broken heart for their badness, so why couldn't she. Her heart was more than broken. She'd never felt like this before, this emptiness, this anger. How could she give someone so much power over her? Fucking pirate. He promised he would win her heart, and he did, that bastard. But he didn't protect it. He didn't protect himself. His need to make amends had cost him his life, his _survivor_ status not meaning much in the end. His death only further proving that being good is a wasted endeavor, one for the foolish and naive.

The ghostly sounds of footsteps on the pier are torturous; knowing that no one is there, no one will be there again. It's not until the cadence stops that she looks up. Her eyes are wild as she takes him in, fearful that he is a specter, here to taunt her further into the depths of despair. But then he speaks.

"Swan?"

She stands slowly. She thinks to herself that if he is a phantom, she may not care, as long as he is here for her, to take her away. He steps forward, his hand reaching towards her, and she is unwilling to hope but needs to know. The very real feel of his fingertips grasping hers snaps her like a sail in a strong gust of wind, surging her forward until she is collapsing into him. He's here. He's alive. Her arms tighten around his back like a vice, afraid if she lets go he will disappear, that the darkness will continue to descend and take her with it.

She's crying now, her tears collecting in the space where her cheek presses against his neck. She whispers to him, her voice wrecked by her sobs, hoping he can hear her, know her.

"How?"

She feels his lips press lightly to her shoulder as he pulls her tighter, a shudder wracking his body as he tries to find his own composure.

"Ariel. She saved me."

She lifts her head from his neck at his response, her eyes searching the depth of his gaze for a moment before pressing her forehead against his. She feels the calm that his presence always brings to her begin to take hold, taking a few deep breaths to let the emptiness in her heart fill back up with him.

"Killian, I think she may have saved us both."


	13. you, just you

_A/N: Wanted to write a little something with Killian comforting Emma after she learns the secret her parents have been keeping from her. Need more intimate moments for these two…_

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><p>The only solace she can find in this moment is that she finally has someone to go to. She doesn't have to deal with this on her own, not anymore. So, between body wracking sobs, her knuckles find their way to the hard surface of his door, softly knocking. It's late, very late, but she needs him now. The sound of her phone buzzing incessantly in her pocket is like a knife in an open wound, causing her tears to cloud her vision once again.<p>

Through watery eyes she realizes that he is there, reaching for her, his hand wrapping around her neck and guiding her into his arms. She collapses into his bare chest, the little strength she had holding her up finally gone, her world seeming to be spinning wildly under her feet. She's thankful for him, needing him to be her compass, hoping to find some sense of direction here in his arms. She knows that _he_ is real and she can trust him, imperfectly perfect as he is.

His voice is soft and tentative when he finally speaks, obviously needing to know what is wrong, but not wanting to push her.

"Emma, what is it? Are you injured, is Henry…your parents, are they all okay?"

The mention of her parents sets off another sob and she can feel his arms tense around her, his concern for her family just one of the many things she loves about him. She straightens slightly so she can look him in the eye, needing to calm his fears, somehow explain that while she is physically fine her world is crumbling from the inside out. She forces herself to settle a bit as she gazes at him, her hand finding his cheek, attempting to pass back some of the comfort he's providing for her.

"No one's in danger, they're all fine. I'm just a huge mess right now and I….." Her shoulders slump as her grief begins to take over again, her hand falling to his chest in defeat.

His lips brush lightly on her temple as he draws her close. "What do you need, Swan?"

"You, just you."

"I'm here, love. Come, let's go inside."

His arm is strong on her waist as he leads her into his room, stopping her just inside so he can close the door and turn back to her. She feels naked suddenly, standing there baring her broken soul to him a_gain_, all of her walls beginning to build themselves back up around her. Thankfully, he knows her so well at this point that he can see this all happening. She feels the cold steel of his hook and the fingers of his hand as they slowly work her coat from her shoulders, the heavy weight falling from her a relief as he tosses it onto the chair. His hand finds hers and he guides her to his bed, waiting until she sits. His hand finds her hair again as he leans down to press a soft kiss to her forehead before he crouches down at her feet.

A tear escapes as she watches him lean down to remove her boots, his hand kneading her muscles as he works the leather down her calves. Boots removed, he stands so he can sit next to her, pulling her close as soon as he's settled. His body is so warm, soothing her with every breath he takes, with every brush of his fingertips around her waist.

"Do you want to talk about it, Swan?"

"Yes, but not tonight. Can we just sleep? I'll tell you everything in the morning,"

"Of course, whatever you need, love." His lips ghost along her hairline briefly as he rises, and she watches as he crosses to the small closet in the back of the room. She allows herself a moment to take him in, the muscles of his back rippling as he moves the hangers to the side in search of something. She's never seen him in this state of undress, his legs clad in dark loose pants, leather brace dark against the pale skin of his arms, redness peeking between the straps from long years of wear.

He turns finally, holding up one of his old pirate shirts, her cheeks reddening a bit she thinks of the thin material that had taunted her for so long. Now, everything he had been barely hiding behind too few buttons was on display for her, the dark hair of his chest framing well sculpted muscles begging to be traced by her fingertips. That would be for another night, however, one when she wasn't falling apart.

"Here, love. You can sleep in this if you like?"

The fabric is soft and worn under her fingertips as she takes it from him, the material gathering in her lap as she smiles in thanks. Always the gentleman, her pirate, he crosses around to the other side of the bed to let her change outside of his gaze. She sheds her sweater and pulls the shirt over her head, the scent of him enveloping her as she slides her arms into the sleeves. Standing quickly, she pulls off her jeans and places her clothes on the chair with her coat, his shirt long enough that it falls just to the middle of her thighs.

"Come to bed, Swan."

She turns to see that he has settled on the far side of the bed, holding the covers up for her to join him. Without hesitation she switches off the light and slides onto the mattress, practically crawling into his body as she molds herself as close to him as she can get. His chest hair is soft under her cheek, the sound of his heart beating a strong rhythm by her ear, reminding her again of how close she came to losing him those many weeks ago. She wills herself to not think on that tonight, knowing it would set off another round of sobs if she did.

Instead, she leans up from his chest to look up at him, his gaze tender as he takes her in. She reaches up, her hand wrapping around his neck so she can pull his lips towards hers. She kisses him slowly, softly, relishing the intimacy of the moment between them. She grazes her fingertips along his jaw once before pulling back and settling back down on his chest, barely catching his slightly dazed expression as their lips parted in the darkness of the room.

"Goodnight, Killian."

"Goodnight, my love."


End file.
