New York City Serenade...

Killian

"Swan, love…Emma!"

With quick footsteps he chased her down the stairwell, the sound of his boots echoing in the small space. He saw her disappear through a door back to her floor, her hair whipping around her back as moved.

Swiftly he followed - confused by her response to his earlier question. "Emma, what happened-"

Catching up to her as she slipped her key in the apartment 311's lock, he lightly grasped her arm and she gave him an exasperated look. "It doesn't matter."

Before she could push the door open, he wrapped his hand around the handle and she twisted her head to look at him.

"Yes Emma, it does."

Sighing she nodded towards the door, "Let's have another drink."

He didn't argue, just loosened his grip and let her turn the key. Following her inside, the door clicked closed behind him.

Emma

"A monkey?" he asked, eyebrow cocked giving her such a ridiculous expression she wanted to laugh in spite of herself.

"A flying monkey." she confirmed, gently bobbing her head as she stared down into her glass of rum.

"Well," Killian sighed, lying back in his chair, "That's a new one."

A multitude of emotions washed over her and she took another drink to try and calm her thoughts. Betrayal. Anger. Shock.

But most of all, a feeling of foolishness. Why had she ever thought she could have something good in her life…

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She licked the sticky rum residue from her lips and gave him a small smile. "Nothing, it's-" His eyes were boring into her and she knew he knew she was lying. The smile dropped and she let her eyelids slip closed. "I just - you know. I guess you don't-"

"Go on,"he encouraged, reaching for the bottle and topping up the glass in her hands.

"My life has changed in an instant. Again. In this life I was normal and I liked that." She ran her thumb over the moist mark her lips had left on the edge of her glass.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting a happy ending, Swan."

His soothing tones were soft and melodic. She'd missed his voice, she thought absentmindedly.

"It's not that - well, not really. I just guess I keep inviting these people into my life that let me down," she added, raising the glass to her lips, just catching his eye as the liquid trickled down her throat with a pleasing burning sensation.

The way he looked at her sometimes gave her chills. And this was one of those times. Full of meaning and understanding, how could those eyes say so much without saying a word? A flutter of nerves licked her stomach and she started to run her hand through her hair, massaging her scalp to try and lessen the riotous ache in her skull.

"Did you love him?" he asked abruptly. But this time he wasn't looking at her. He was instead staring intently at the cuff of his shirt that rounded his false hand. His fingers picked at a stray piece of thread that was hanging loose. Was he…nervous?

"I thought I did," she replied without thinking.

And it was true. Twelve hours ago she had loved him. He was kind and good to her and Henry. Just the kind of man she needed in her life, or so she thought.

Then her memories had hit her like a freight train - derailing all she thought was real and who she thought she was. A shift had occurred in her heart that instant. The two Emma's had merged, and honestly, she hadn't known what she wanted.

"He was right, for this Emma, for this life…Well, until, you know-" she muttered, waving her hand in the air and finishing her drink.

He slid his hand across the table. It wasn't close enough to touch hers, but she studied it. His silver rings, his tan skin, the hint of the tattoo on his wrist where the shirt rode up his arm. "It's okay to be upset, Emma."

Grabbing her glass she quickly stood, "I don't have time for that."

Then she stepped away and tossed the glass in the sink.

Killian

He wiped his face with his palm, trying to rub away some of the tiredness. He watched as she moved about the kitchen, wiping the surfaces with a damp cloth, stacking plates in a cupboard.

She may be the human lie detector but she was terrible at lying herself - at least to him anyway. Emma was hurt and he knew. He could tell by the way she was furrowing her brow and tensing her shoulders. Silently he continued to drink, swilling the rum in his mouth as he thought.

Killian knew not what to say. A year had passed and so much had changed yet so much was the same - his feelings, for one.

To know she had found another, someone she at least thought she loved, clawed at his heart and paralyzed his soul. He knew now was not the time for bold protestations of commitment and devotion, but he was at a loss for how he could comfort her. Awkwardly he shifted in his seat until the rum was gone and he went to join her in the kitchen.

"Here love," he said softly as he handed her the glass.

"Thanks-" she replied, cut short as their hands brushed during the exchange, her head twisting back until he could see the slight redness in her bright green eyes.

He wanted to hold her, wrap his fingers in her hair and let her cry-

He opened his mouth to speak-

But she beat him to it. "So where have you been staying in New York?"

The moment was lost and he stepped back, leaning against the bench that ran along the middle of the kitchen. "Here, there - a pirate is resourceful."

"Of course," she whispered.

Swallowing, he started to reach for her, "Swan, I-"

"Stay here," she countered, turning on her heel until they were almost face to face.

"Are you sure?"

"It's cold, Henry is sleeping out," pursing her lips he watched her eyes drop to his chest, "The couch is comfy-"

"Couch?" he asked.

"There," she replied, pointing behind him, he looked back until he saw the large upholstered chair in the space opposite the table where they had sat.

"Oh," he mumbled, unable to hold back a tiny tinge of disappointment.

"I mean, as long as you don't mind watching me pack?"

A wicked little smile rose on his lips, "I could watch you do anything love," he quipped.

She rolled her eyes and walked away. He knew she was smiling though.

At least he had made her smile.

Emma

"How does this thing work?"

His voice rang out over the din of the TV - rapidly changing channels from music, to a talk show, then the loud sound effects from an action movie.

"Um," she muttered, "It's complicated."

Damn, she wished she had just given him a book.

Pushing in the last few items she zipped up her suitcase, taking a cursory look around her room.

Would she see it again?

The truth was she didn't know. Probably not, though.

Mind in overdrive, she undressed and pulled on a pair of warm, cotton pajamas.

By the time she returned to the living room, Killian was staring at the television - transfixed by an infomercial for a knife sharpening tool. The light from the TV shone on his face and created a sharp contrast of white on black with his skin and all that leather and dark hair.

Did he ever get sick of all the black?

"Hey," she called as she sauntered to the sofa and took a seat at the other side.

He turned his head and nodded in reply, "Packed?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"How are you feeling?"

Oh, what could she tell him?

Scared?

Confused?

Dazed?

A tiny bit excited?

"I don't really know. This is all so sudden-"

"For you maybe, however some of us have had to put in a lot of effort to get here," he purred, giving her a large grin that she couldn't help but reciprocate.

"About that. How did you get here? And the memory potion?"

The way his expression fell told her this conversation was not one they would be having tonight.

"Perhaps another time Swan? I'm a little tired and the drive tomorrow will be a long one - yes?"

She nodded, "Seven, maybe eight hours."

Rising, she walked to the window seat and lifted the lid, pulling out a pillow and a couple of blankets and tossing them to him.

"Here. Make yourself at home."

"Thank you."

She started to walk away.

"And Swan-"

She turned, "Hmmm?"

"Sweet dreams."

She couldn't help but feel the irony in his words, but instead of dwelling on it she quickly walked away.

Killian

She didn't close the door.

He couldn't sleep. Adrenaline flowed through him.

He found her and he had restored her memory.

She was back, or he was back- regardless, it was all the same now that they shared a realm at least and common memories once more.

He heard her quickly fall asleep; her breathing came in a soft regular rhythm, clearly audible through the silence of the apartment, with its wood floors that amplified every sound.

Lying on his back, he rested his hand on his chest and just listened.

She was there. His Swan.

Emma

"Shit," she cried, looking at the clock. She was late. A quick shower, and an even quicker dressing, she was rushing into the living room.

"Hook-"

The words stopped in her throat.

He laid back, head facing the couch, the morning sun filtering around his features. He looked peaceful, perhaps even a little innocent - if it wasn't for the layer of kohl around his eyes.

She should wake him - but instead she took a moment.

How often do you get to look at another person without embarrassment or emotion figuring in?

She took a couple of steps closer. His chest rose and fell softly, barely covered by his ridiculously low cut shirts. Why did he bother wearing them, she thought. His jaw was sharper than she remembered, the layer of stubble creating a dark outline which only served to heighten the angles. That scar on his cheek was slight pinked - she must ask him about that one day. Perhaps. And he way his hair was disheveled and poking in a hundred different directions was, she had to admit, disarmingly attractive as at the same time as making her laugh.

"Something funny, Swan?" One eye opened, then the other.

"I- Um-"

Blushing furiously, she bit her lip.

"We're late," she stated, changing the subject, dancing awkwardly on the spot as she avoided his gaze.

He knew she had been looking at him.

"I will go get Henry and you need to disappear for an hour."

"To where, pray tell dear princess?"

"You work it out, I thought you said pirates were resourceful?" she sassed. Not waiting for a reply she picked up her coat and walked towards the door, a smile arching her lips. A lightness in her step.

Killian

Alone, he wrapped his arms behind his head and looked up at the ceiling.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Bloody hard work, but fun.

And gods, did he love a challenge.

A review would be lovely. Would you like me to keep this up as and when needed?