Author's Note: Hey guys! Sorry, I know it's been a while, but I've been extremely busy and writing two thousand words in a row is one thing, but trying to fit your ideas into writing and complete a story is a whole other can of worms. Ew. I hate worms. Anyways, it's my birthday! So, I thought as a present to myself I'd post this one-shot I've been working on for quote some time now and finally finished. Oh, and don't worry, it's not the end of "Just Give Me A Reason". That should be updated by Wednesday or Thursday. As for the Lost fic (happy tenth anniversary of the premiere, guys) I've no clue when that first chapter will be posted, as it is still in the works. I just keep adding to what will end up being like chapter 50 (that "Through The Looking Glass" scene I just can't wait to tamper with), so...that'll be a while. Well, enjoy this. By the way, I had originally planned for a racier scene (you'll know what I mean when you get to it) but it just worked out this way. I hope you like it!

Musical Inspiration: "Need You Know" by Lady Antebellum, obviously.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, except the premise of the story. I don't own Hook, or Emma, or Belle. But if you'd like to send me one for my birthday, I wouldn't be opposed.

She swore to herself that she would never do this.

Never in a million years.

Ever.

Well, old habits die hard, she guesses.

The apartment was dark and cold. Which is odd, because the walls are painted an off-white, vanilla color, and the furniture is red and cream colored. Also, the thermostat says that the temperature in the room in seventy degrees.

But it's still dark.

And it's still cold.

And she knows exactly why.

She walks over to the radio and turns it on. Music plays soft and sweet. It's calming, but it does not have the effect she wanted it to have. It does nothing to quell her loneliness.

Well, really, she should've been smarter.

She'd been laying in the middle of the room staring at old photographs which were scattered all around the floor. Tears burning at the back of her eyes (which she would never admit, because Emma Swan did not cry), she had to get away from the surge of memories that flooded her mind. Perfect memories.

She wonders if she ever crosses his mind, the way he always floods hers.

God.

She should've went out tonight, with Ruby and Belle and Mary Margaret, instead of opting out for some "alone time". That was her shining moment of stupidity. But honestly, she hadn't wanted to endure the lecturing. She didn't want to be judged by Ruby for how she handled things in the end. She didn't want Belle's understanding glances and heartfelt words, with the underlying threat laced in between her words if she didn't go and run after him straight away. And she certainly didn't want to hear Mary Margaret's nagging about she was the happiest she'd ever been when she was with him.

But, most of all...she didn't want to run the risk of seeing him.

Especially seeing him with somebody else.

Not that he was with somebody else, as far as she knew. But it's not like she knew much. She hasn't seen him in three months. The only things she knows about him is what she's gathered from David and Victor and Robin. According to them, he's too heartbroken to even think about being with anyone else.

And it's all her fault.

She ruined it, so she doesn't even have the right to want him. To want him all to herself. To hope that he's alone just like she's been.

Because she has been. Alone, that is.

Ever since she drove him away.

She stares wide eyed at one of the pictures that lay in front of her. And she's grinning and her eyes are lit up brightly, and-god- she's happy, so happy.

Not anymore.

He's looking at her like she's the most precious thing he's ever seen. Grinning back at her wide, with eyes crinkled in the corners.

He looking at her like he loves her.

Again, not anymore.

She thinks back to that fateful night when she ruined everything, and if she could take it all back, she would-oh god, how she would. She'd do anything to bring the light back to his face-to take the hurt out of his eyes, when she told him...when she said...

It's all her fault.

He looked at her, broken and devastated. She ignored it. After what he'd done, he didn't have a right to look like that. He didn't care about her. He'd been pretending.

"I don't understand?" He choked out, voice thick and rough, the beginnings of tears glimmering in his eyes.

"What's to understand? I don't want you anymore." She replied smoothly, cold and emotionless. But even she, with walls higher and thicker than the damn Rocky Mountains for Christ's sake, couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face in his presence.

He broke her heart. It only seemed fitting that she should break his.

But why the fuck did it feel like she was killing herself as she did it?

He took a step closer to her, so that he was pressed up against her, her back to the wall. She turned her head away from him, but he took her face in is hands, pleading her to look at him. "Why are you doing this?" He asked.

As they stared at each other, her vulnerability began to seep out through her defenses. She relaxed into his touch, pressed her face more firmly upon the palms of his hands. On the tip of her tongue were an apology-she didn't mean it, she loves him, has only ever loved him, always will-but then she remembers darkened blue eyes and broken promises and 'I will leave her in a week's time, she's no longer my dream, I love you' in hushed phone conversations he thought she hadn't overheard, and her walls slam back into place. She pushes him away from her, but he snakes his arms around her waist and tightens his grip as she fights against him.

"Let me go!" She seethes, staring daggers at him.

"Not until you tell me why. Not until you stop this and let me hold you again." He whispers fervently, his eyes searching hers intently.

She raises her hand and slaps him, hard. His head whips to the right as her hand makes contact with the skin of his cheek, and when he turns back to her he looks astonished and betrayed.

As if he had any right.

"Emma," he starts, brokenly whispering her name like it'd be his only salvation.

"Don't." She chokes out, tears streaming freely now, sobs wracking her body.

"No, I will." He says firmly. "Emma, I love you. I'm in love with you. So I mean it when I say that I don't understand why you're doing this. Why would you end something that has been so good? Why would are you lying to me? To yourself? Acting like you don't care?"

"You're one to talk about lying!" She screams, wrenching her body from his, and backing into a corner on the other side of the room.

"What are you talking about?" He asks quietly, his voice breaking. "Emma, sweetheart, I've never lied to you, nor will I ever." He steps closer to her, reaching his hand out towards her.

"Stop it! Just stop! I can't take this anymore. Stop acting like I'm stupid!" She screams back at him, sobbing hysterically. "Maybe I am, though. I shouldn't have thought that you'd wanna stay. Why would you? No one else ever has. My parents didn't, neither did anyone who ever fostered me. Why should you be any different?"

"Don't do that." He says, voice low and serious. "Don't say that. I am different. They were all sodding fools! How could I not want to be with you? I love you. I love you!" His eyes are wide as he pleads with her to listen, begs her to let him stay.

But she's been fooled too many times before. And he's already proved that he doesn't want her. She's not going to let him break her heart more than it already has been.

Even if the price she has to pay is breaking her own all by herself in return.

"But that's the problem," she says, eyes darkening, and voice taking on a cold tone as she steels herself. "Because I don't."

"What?" He whispers, incredulous. His eyes darting back and forth, searching hers for an answer he won't get anytime soon.

And in that moment, Emma Swan tells the biggest lie she has ever told in her life.

"I don't love you." She says firmly, cold and relentless. "Not anymore."

Killian is taken aback. Literally. He stumbles back a step, as he stares at her, wide-eyed and broken.

"You can't mean that." He chokes out, desperately. "You-you don't-you can't!" He exclaims, as tears begin streaming down his face as well.

"I do." She says evenly, despite the scratchy feeling in her throat, the tears pouring out of her eyes, eyes that are filled with despair.

He chokes out a sob, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Just go, Killian. Please." She begs him.

He's never been one to deny her anything.

He takes his leave then, walking out the door. Another person walking out of her life, forever. He spares one last desperate glance at her before he closes it.

It's only then that she breaks down completely. Sobs wracking her body.

Half of her dinner plates were broken that night.

The matching cups, too.

She remembers it clearly. And she was wrong, so wrong. He looked so broken. How could he ever have hurt her?

But he did. She knows that. She heard it.

Maybe she heard wrong?

She misses him.

It's like a fucking ache in her chest, a gaping hole. One only he'd ever be able to fill.

But she no longer has him.

The song changes on the radio, and she notices the familiar piano intro, recognizes the beat of the drums, the soft lyrics.

And, honestly, how much more fitting could a song be to the current situation?

She swore to herself that she would never do this.

Never in a million years.

Ever.

Well, old habits die hard, she guesses.

Twirling the half-drunk bottle of MacCutcheon in her hands, she reaches for her cellphone.

Oh, how ironic.

It's one fifteen.

Really?

She dials his number before she can think it through.

The line rings once, twice, three times and then he answers.

"Hello?" His voice uncertain.

God, how she's missed his voice.

"Hey," she replies, voice barely above a whisper, joy filling her body. "It's me."

He's drunk.

Really, bloody drunk.

Well, to be honest, he's been drunk for the past three months.

Drunk, and alone in his apartment.

He thinks about her every night. Her smile, the way her eyes lit up when she looked at him. The way she would scoff and roll her eyes at one of his dirty jokes, but then tried to hide the smile that would inevitably creep up on her face.

Oh, but he misses her. So much.

He loves her.

He doesn't understand what went wrong.

They were to be married. They were planning a wedding.

They were happy.

He's never loved like he'd loved her. Loves her.

He always will, it's not even a question. He'll never move on from her. She has his heart, always has, always will.

But it's not like he can even tell her that, because it's over now. They're over.

And he ruined it.

It's all his fault.

He downs another shot of Captain Morgan, then proceeds to throw the glass across the room. Well, if he's going to drink, he might as well drink, shouldn't he?

That's when he starts drinking straight from the bottle.

He didn't go out tonight, blatantly refused David and Victor's invitation. Why did it matter, anyways? Every other time he went, it was just because he was hoping to see her.

And she never showed. Which led to him having a killer hangover in the morning.

She obviously meant what she'd said. She doesn't want to be with him anymore. Too bad his heart just doesn't seem to understand that.

He stares at the door, gaze unwavering. He just wishes she'd burst through it, just like she'd done all those times before. After a fight, to say hello, just-because.

He can't help but wonder if he ever crosses her mind. Lord knows his mind is plagued by her.

Not that he'd want it any other way, though.

His grip tightens on the rum in his hand, reflecting back on his utter stupidity. It had taken him nine weeks-nine bloody weeks-to get anyone to tell him just what he'd done wrong, what he'd done to hurt the only woman he's ever loved. Mary Margaret had slapped him, merely two days after the breakup. David had restrained her. He had been about to come after him-despite being his best mate, for Christ's sake (well he was also Emma's big brother, so)-just a few hours earlier that very same day. However, upon seeing his utterly devastated and wrecked state, he'd thought better of it, and decided to console his friend. Ruby had called him names that even he was ashamed to repeat (damn, that woman had a mouth on her). Victor had been quick to quiet her, but still managed to give Killian a bit of a death glare.

Apparently Emma wasn't doing so well, and even his friends were pissed at him. God, how he wished he could just hold her, comfort her. But he broke her.

Fuck.

Regina even sneered at him when he went out with Robin, which was quite shocking, considering she and Emma weren't very good friends.

What did he do?

His friends weren't even really sure, no one would tell them anything either.

He'd later learned that was because Emma had only confided full details in one person.

Belle had finally taken pity on him nine weeks after the whole bloody ordeal. He'd been surprised, to say the least. Belle, being Emma's best friend, was the last person he would've thought would try to help him. But it would seem she realized just how broken he was, too. And maybe, just maybe, she was rooting for him. For them. Just a bit.

He was halfway through his liquor cabinet that Saturday nightwhen he heard a knock on his door. He groaned and stood to answer it.

"You look bloody terrible." Snorted the petite brunette on the other side of his door.

"Hmm," he smirked cruelly at her. "And I suppose I should be thanking you for bringing up that fact, my dear Belle?" He leveled her with a frightening glare.

That, however, did not phase the tiny, Australian woman before him. She pushed past him and walked into the apartment, surveying the damage.

He stood dumbfounded at the door, and made a shocked, sarcastic gesture with his arms before shutting the door and turning to face her.

She still held her back to him as he turned around. When she finally turned to face him, she raised her eyebrows and said, "Rob a liquor store, now, did you?"

He raised an eyebrow at that and responded, "No. I haven't had the time." He began to walk past her, picking a half-drunk bottle of MacCutcheon (her favorite drink, hers, God) off the floor, before plopping onto his couch, unceremoniously. "What with me sitting over here, being the ass you lot so proudly coined me." He shot her a self-deprecating smirk.

She gave him a pointed look. "You know, I can tell that you're just using that as a defense. You've done it before. And I can tell that you're hurting, probably just as much as she is. But what I can't understand is why you didn't come to see her, to apologize, now, when she's needed you the most." Belle's bright blue eyes look confused, her brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of his actions.

"She doesn't want to see me. Doesn't want me around anymore. She made that quite clear." He replies, cold and distant. "I'm just doing as she asked."

"You know that's not what she wants. You know her better than anyone! God, why can't you see that?"

"Leave this be, Belle." He warned her, eyes darkening dangerously.

"No!" She exclaimed, marching up toward him. "I won't. I can't stand the two of you making each other miserable. It's ridiculous! You're here, drinking yourself into oblivion. She's there, at her apartment, crying herself to sleep on the bathroom floor nearly every night!" His eyes flashed at that statement, but Belle continued. "She's a mess. She listens to sad Taylor Swift songs and barely speaks to anyone. She hasn't even left her house in weeks, Killian."

Killian stands and stares Belle down, concern for Emma marring his features. "Is she alright? Is she okay?" He frantically asks.

Belle smirks and barks out a laugh. "See, I knew you missed her." She says, pointing at him. "I knew you still cared."

"Just answer the sodding question, Belle!" He hisses.

"No." Belle answers simply. "No, she's not alright. And you'd've known that had you bothered to show up and talk to her. It's been over two months. Why haven't you come to see her?"

"She doesn't want me!" He yells in frustration. "She told me that! And I'm sure she's told you!"

"You know that's not true." She hisses back at him. She walks to the window, and stares out for a moment. She turns to face him once again. "Why did you do it?" She asks quietly. At his confused expression, she elaborates, "Break her heart, that is."

He sighs, long and drawn out. "I didn't even know I was breaking her heart, so how could I possibly have any choice in the matter?" He says plainly.

Belle stares at him for a long moment, searching his eyes for any truth to his words. Sensing her hesitation to trust him, he adds honestly, "I would never willingly hurt her. I love her."

She gives him a small, sad smile. "Just as I thought." She says, much to his befuddlement. He opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off. "You two are the most bloody infuriating people I have ever met!" She yells, throwing her hands up in the air.

"What the hell are you going on about?" He questions her.

"You two!" She states, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. Obviously not, in Killian's eyes. She sighs, clearly irritated. "You're both still undeniably in love with each other and you," she says pointing at him. "You are doing nothing to fix what you've broken."

"She still loves me?" He asks, awe filling his expression.

"Seriously?" Belle asks, an incredulous look upon her pretty face. "Of course she does, you idiot! Now, I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to be completely honest with me. Got it?"

"Yes," he responded uncertainly.

"She only confided in me this knowledge. And thank god she hasn't told Ruby or Mary Margaret, because if she had, you'd be dead by now." Belle says, eyes wide and expression honest. "The only reason I'm not is because I recognize the look in your eyes. You truly didn't have any idea what happened, and I'm giving you a chance to explain yourself. The reason she broke up with you is because she overheard you on the phone. She didn't mean to be eavesdropping, but she woke up in the middle of the night, and walked to the bathroom. You were sitting in the living room of her apartment and she heard you say in a hushed tone that "she" was 'no longer your dream'. That you were leaving her, and then you told the person you loved them." Belle heaves a sigh.

Killian stares at her, shock evident in his features. "Wha-but I-No! NO!" He stammers. "I would NEVER say that! I LOVE HER!" He shouts, the vein in his forehead throbbing.

"I know you do, Killian." She says sympathetically. "But who were you on the phone with? Because right now, she thinks you're with somebody else."

"I wasn't...OH, BLOODY FUCKING HELL." He yells, as realization dawns on him. "I was on the phone, but it's not what you think." He says. Belle waits, and looks at him expectantly. He sighs, then continues. "I was talking to my brother, of course I'd tell him I loved him. I called to tell him that I wanted to sell my boat, I was leaving her, the boat, in a week's time, because I wanted to start a family with Emma and I thought that having a sailboat would be too dangerous around children. I wasn't talking about leaving her. I'd never leave her!" He finishes, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Well, I guess that's a bit of a lie now." He adds in a defeated tone.

Belle gives him a smile. "It's not over, yet. You just need to tell her! Let her know that it was all just a big misunderstanding! A miscommunication!" She says, exasperatedly.

"I can't do that now! I've ruined it! She'll never trust me again." He says, sitting. He hangs his head in his hands.

"But she will, you have to trust her!"

"I do trust her! With all my heart!" He exclaims, frustrated. "But she was so brokenhearted...I did that to her! I couldn't bear it if she didn't take me back. And the funny thing is, I wouldn't even blame her."

Belle slaps him across the face.

"What the hell?" He asks.

"Get over yourself and go after her!" Belle yells. "She loves you and she misses you! You have to fight for her! Do it!"

"But I-"

"No, none of that! Go after her!" Belle interrupts. "I'm not leaving until you do." She stubbornly adds, crossing her arms over her chest.

Killian heaves out a sigh. "Fine. I will go after her. But only, if she wants me first." He says. "I will not force myself upon her. She deserves that, at least."

Belle stands there for a moment, staring him down. Finally she says, "Alright. I suppose that's okay." She makes to leave. "You won't sleep with anyone else, will you?" She asks tentatively.

"Belle, I haven't slept with anyone but her in three years. I haven't slept with anyone since before I met her. She's it for me." He replies truthfully.

Belle nods. "Good." As she opens the door to his apartment she says, "Oh, and Killian," He looks expectantly at her. "Emma, she never cancelled the wedding."

She smiles and leaves him standing in the middle of his apartment, dumbfounded.

It's been three weeks since his encounter with Belle, and Emma still hasn't reached out to him. It's obvious that he's been too late, she no longer wants him.

It's only fair that he allow her the right to move on.

Even if he never will.

He finishes the bottle just as his cellphone rings. Checking the time (a quarter after one?), he wonders who on earth could be calling him at this time.

He searches for his phone in the mess on his couch. Cursing under his breath, he finally finds it after the second ring, and blankly stares at the name on his screen for a moment. He's unable to do anything but.

The name, 'Emma', stares back at him, and his breath catches in his throat. His heartbeat rapidly speeds up as he stares, frozen and unmoving, until he realizes that of he doesn't answer, he could lose her forever.

Apparently only seconds have passed and he answers on the third ring.

"Hello?" He says uncertainly, unsure as to just why she is calling him, but absolutely giddy nonetheless. The phone is pressed to his ear so hard, one would think it was his lifeline.

Maybe it was.

"Hey," she replies in a half-laugh, half-whisper. He can almost see her, eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. Of joy or sorrow, he knows not. "It's me."

Bloody hell.

Like he'd ever think it was anyone else.

"H-how...um, how are you?" He stammered, wondering what on earth he could have possibly done to be so lucky as to have the love of his life calling him again.

"Um, I'm-I'm good." She choked out.

Did she honestly think she could get past him with that lie? Poor lass, he knew her better than she knew herself.

"Emma..." He started.

"Okay, okay, I'm not." She said, voice wavering. He knew her showing him vulnerability, especially now, was not an easy feat for her, so he kind of reveled in it. Not in a bad way, he just...misses her. "I just...I miss you." She said. "And I'm all alone, and I just...I need you."

His breath catches in his throat.

They're the words he's longed to hear for the past three months and now, now she's said them.

One would think, he'd know exactly what to say. Right?

Nope. Not one bit.

He's silent. Absolutely silent. No words have come to his brain and he's a bloody fool.

After a long minute (he's still said NOTHING.), Emma speaks up. "Killian..?" She questions. "I understand if you don't care how-"

He interrupts her at that, because how could he not care for her? She's the only one he's ever cared for and she must know that. She has to.

"Emma, Emma." He says. "Love, I'm sorry, I was just...never mind that. I'll be right over." He hesitates, then adds, "That is...if you want me?"

He can't see her, but he knows her. Can sense her sad eyes and that beautiful, little smile on her face when she answers him. And, by god, her answer is better than he'd ever imagined.

"I always want you." She lets out with a tiny, breathy chuckle. She hesitates momentarily, then continues. "Will you come?"

Her question is naught but a hopeful whisper.

He's never been one to deny her anything.

"Oh God." She says, pacing frantically around her apartment, cleaning and straightening up as fast as she can. "Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God!"

What on earth was she thinking?

She broke things off with him. What if he didn't want her anymore? (He couldn't, she already knew that, no matter what anyone said.) What if he was just being polite? What if he just wanted closure, to give her a piece of his mind? What if, what if, what if?

What if they were made for each other? What if they were meant to be? What if this was their second chance at forever?

Oh, God.

She doesn't have any more time to over think this decision, when suddenly there's a sharp knock on her front door and she's immediately roused from her brooding.

He was here.

Terrific.

She slowly makes her way over to the door, pausing only to place the half-drunk bottle of MacCutcheon in its rightful place on her kitchen countertop. The lock clicks, and she opens the door, to see his face.

The assault of memories is bitter and harsh when she first sees him.

He's lovely, that she knows. He might look tired and unkempt, his hair sticking up this way and that as if he'd been running his hands through it in frustration. His eyelids are drooped and there are dark circles under his eyes. He smells like whiskey and rum. But there's a hopeful glint in his eyes. A ghost of a smile on his face when he first lays eyes on her. And it's him. It's them. It's right.

She still needs answers, though. But, God, how she loves him.

Ugh.

"Hi," he says, staring at her as if she is the sun. It takes everything in her not to jump him, and latch on for an eternity.

"Hi," she breathes out, a small grin ghosting her face. "You want to...come in?" She hesitantly asks, holding the door open a little wider, and taking a step back.

"Sure," he sighs gratefully, and slowly steps into her apartment.

He walks into the living room and she closes the door behind him. She turns, and they stand there, staring at each other, for what feels like a million heartbeats.

They're ten thousand miles apart.

Hopefully, tonight will fix that.

They both speak at the same time, words jumbled and hard to understand. She gestures for him to go first.

"Thank you." He says quietly. He scratches the spot behind his ear, 'his nervous spot' she thinks fondly, and asks, "Umm...would you like to sit down for this, darling?" He gestures towards the couch.

"Sure." She replies, and sits. He sits down next to her, but not close enough to touch. Not close at all, actually.

He takes a deep breath, then begins. "Swan, I..." He breaks off and looks into her eyes. The intensity and emotion in his are almost too much for her. She almost turns away, but he beats her to it. He looks down at his feet abruptly and continues. "Emma...I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am." He looks at her again. "I never meant to cause you pain, and I know this might sound like a lie, but I swear to you," he stares into her eyes as deeply as he can, and her breath hitches in her throat. "It's not. It was all just a big misunderstanding."

"What do you mean?" She asks hesitantly, looking down at her hands clasped in her lap.

He reaches over and silently takes her hands in his. She looks at him then and he holds her gaze.

"Belle told me what you thought had happened. That there was someone else. And before you get angry for her forsaking what you told her in confidence, she only did so because she cares about you. As do I. And if you no longer want me...I will gladly walk away from you forever, if only you wished it. But I need you to know this first. I would never be with anyone else. Ever. I love you. I always have, I always will. There has never been anyone else, there will never be anyone else. I'm yours...forever." The truth in his eyes is bright and undeniable. He continues. "When you heard me on the phone...I was talking with my brother...about my boat. I wanted to leave it-her. The sodding idiot sailor I am continues to call sailboats feminine names. I wanted to sell her...so that we could start a family together. I thought it might be dangerous around children, and I know we've never talked about it, but I thought-"

"Killian." She interrupts his rambling.

He looks up at her then, his face vulnerable and hopeful.

Her heart breaks.

"Emma, I would never break your trust or your...your heart, intentionally." His voice breaks on the last two words. "All I will ever want is you. But I...I understand if you no longer want me and if that is the case, then I shall take my leave." His eyes search hers, and at his intense gaze, she's rendered speechless. He nods his head then, a small, sad smile on his face. "I understand. Goodbye...Emma Swan."

He stands, hand going to the back of her head as he brushes his lips against her forehead. He lingers for a moment, and as he pulls back, she catches the pained look on his face and the tears glistening in his eyes. He makes to leave, but she grabs hold of his wrist. "Wait!" She yells, and pulls him down to her. He falls atop her, gracelessly, and she pulls his mouth to hers.

When they kiss, it's full of emotion. There is passion and lust, fear and longing, heartbreak and pain, and love. God, how there was love. He tangles his hand in her hair and angles her head back so that he can deepen the kiss. She uses her hands to pull his hair, and at his sharp gasp, she thrusts her tongue into his mouth. Her tongue strokes against his hard and lovingly, just taking all that she can. It's been too long for the both of them and they just need to feel. To love.

When he finally breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against hers, both of them are breathless. They stay like this momentarily, breath mingling, foreheads touching, and just breathing each other in. He finally is the first to speak up.

"Emma...what is this, love?" He asks, as if afraid to hope for this to mean anything more than nothing.

Tears stream freely down her face now, and she chokes out a sob.

"Sweetheart, what is it?" He asks softly, his thumbs brushing away her tears.

She kisses him then, sloppy and quick, and she whispers over and over again, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," as she cries.

"Stop that." He says sharply, pulling back to look her in the eye. "You've nothing to be sorry for. It was I who was at fault."

"Shut up." She says. "Shut up, it's my fault. I didn't trust you. I wanted to let you in, but I'm just-" she breaks off in a sob. "I'm too broken to be loved. No one wants me. You deserve better."

"No." He says firmly. "No. That is nonsense. I love you and I want you and I choose you. If I've deserved anything in my life, it's your love."

"I love you," she replies hoarsely. "I love you, I love you so much."

He kisses her then, deep and fast. "By the Gods, I've missed you." He says, and presses soft kisses all over the contours of her face.

"I missed you, too." She whispers back.

The smile that he graces her with lights up his entire face, and she's never seen him happier.

"Take me to bed?" She asks, cocking her head to the side.

He barks out a laugh and hoists her up, kissing her deeply, then carrying her to her bedroom.

"As my lady wishes." He whispers in her ear, with a wink and a salacious grin. She giggles all the way to her room.

They make love for hours, from the dark night into the break of dawn. They fit together seamlessly, their bodies melting into one another in an act filled with passion and love. She cries out his name and writhes against him as he bottoms out inside of her, coaxing her into orgasm after orgasm. When he finally spills into her, he shouts her name, voice hoarse and thick from tears and passion filled moans.

When all is said and done, and they are tired and naked and laying in her bed holding each other, limbs entwined, she thinks.

This is right. She knows that. Him and her, it's always been them. They're meant to be.

She's lying with her head on his chest and he interlocks their fingers, holding their hands up to examine them. He stills as he notices something shiny on her finger.

"You kept it on?" He asks, voice rough from their lovemaking and tone disbelieving.

He is, of course, referring to the sparkly engagement ring on her finger. His engagement ring. It's a white gold, 18K band white a princess cut white diamond in the center, tiny sapphires and emeralds surrounding it. It's a family heirloom, as he had told her when he'd given it to her, and when she broke up with him, he hadn't asked for it back, claiming she'd stolen his heart, and whether she married him or not, she was the woman always meant to have it.

"Of course I did," she whispers, turning to face him. "I love you." She looks at him, her face honest.

He pulls her to him and kisses her quickly, pulling back and staring at her with so much love and admiration in his gaze.

"I didn't cancel the wedding either, you know." She says.

He smiles at that. "I know." He waits a heartbeat.

"I love you," he says, stroking her face with his hand.

"I know." She replies. "I love you."

And all is right in the world.

They marry three months later, in a lovely ceremony. Belle is the maid of honor, David the best man. Their friends were not the least bit shocked to hear that they'd gotten back together, though Mary Margaret was a tad pissed as she'd lost three months of planning for their wedding during their time apart.

They honeymoon in Hawaii, and spend two weeks entirely in bed. Well, not entirely. They do spend a bit of time doing some unspeakable "bedroom" things on a beach outside The Fairmont Orchid on the Kohala Coast.

'Making up for lost time, Swan.' He claims as he carries her to a secluded section of the beach, to make love to his wife.

And when she gives birth to their first child, a daughter, fourteen months later, they name her Belle.

The end.