There she is again, wielding her hefty sword, slicing through the air at her faceless attacker. She spins and she parries but somehow she loses her grip on her weapon and it's tossed from her hands, landing on the shiny black pavement where it disappears in a cloud of red smoke. "I'm not gonna let you hurt them!" she says, unwilling to back down, and then there's the piercing pain in her gut, the utter panic as she realizes she's been stabbed, the frantic voice in her head screaming, "No! I'm not done yet! I don't want to die!"

Emma wakes with a start, her heart pounding viciously as blood roars in her ears, momentarily unable to discern the darkness of her bedroom from the darkness of her dream, until a groggy voice brings her back to reality, back to the comfort of strong arms wrapped around her and soft linens draped over her.

"Emma, love, are you alright?"

He's up on his elbow, leaning over her attentively, attempting to ascertain the problem through the pitch-black darkness. The concern in his voice makes her heart clench painfully as she considers once again how her vision will affect him. He's already lost so much - Liam, Milah, his parents - now, seemingly, her as well. The person he thought would be his happy ending.

Emma fights back the tears burning at the edges of her eyes and attempts to take a steadying breath so she can answer him, her lungs shaky and fitful.

"Yeah, I'm OK. Just had a bad dream."

It isn't until his warm fingers are closing over hers that she realizes her hand is shaking violently again, and she knows he's not going to buy her lies forever, knows he's too perceptive for his own good. Jerking her hand away, she tucks it under the pillow, willing it to stop it's erratic movements. This, too - this new and unusual physical symptom - worries her more than she'd like to admit, but she can't get into it without spilling the truth - the whole truth - and that's just not something she's willing to do right now.

"Your hand, it's shaking again," he states calmly, as if he's restraining the words he really wants to say.

Emma says nothing, a deep sense of dread settling over her as his scent fills her nostrils. She just got him back from the dead. There just hasn't been enough time...to be happy, to share more moments like the one on the couch earlier that was so rudely interrupted, to even consider the possibility of their future. She swallows thickly as all the unpleasant thoughts wrack her mind, torturing her.

Killian, ever present, ever knowing, caresses her arm lightly in soft, soothing strokes, his lips pressing gently against her bare shoulder. Emma closes her eyes and tries to absorb every sensation, every small feeling of him, of their bodies pressed so closely together, generating comforting heat wherever they touch.

His kisses move slowly from her shoulder to her neck and she desperately wants to erase the frightening images from her mind, to forget the girl's ominous warning, "You will die."

I can beat it, I can fight it, she tells herself, wanting to believe it more than she does, willing it to be true.

I have to stay, I have to be here for him, I want this too badly, she thinks as she settles herself more firmly against his body. This, this is real. A tremor works its way from her shoulder down her spine as he darts his tongue out to taste her skin.

"Mmm," she sighs, wrapping her hand behind his head to hold him close, his nose nuzzling softly at her neck as he brushes her hair back from her face, placing it gently over her shoulder.

She turns her head to look at him and is surprised to find the glistening blue of his eyes shining even in the darkness. There's so much love, so much devotion looking back at her, she can barely help herself from uttering, "I love you," breathlessly as she admires him.

"And I you," he responds, before pressing his lips to hers in a kiss both tender and passionate, the feel of his scruff rough yet familiar, a contrast to the softness of his mouth.

Emma arches into his kiss, her hand clutching at the back of his neck feverishly, and she feels a tear finally escape her eye, rolling slowly down her cheek as she pours all the love she has for this man into their joining. He doesn't make any movement to further the kiss, only holds her close, treasuring her, reassuring her as he somehow knows instinctively that she needs. Never let me go, she requests silently as she sighs against his mouth.

They both take a sharp inhale when they finally pull away, Emma hastily wiping at her cheek before he notices the wetness there.

There's a pause, a stillness in the air, where she knows he wants to know the truth and that she absolutely doesn't want to tell him. Why ruin what little time they may have left?

Still, he exhales loudly, obviously frustrated and concerned.

"When are you going to tell me what's really going on?" he asks hesitantly in that deep voice of his, and Emma stills, unmoving.

Then she strokes his arm, kissing him firmly one more time, hoping to ease his worries.

"I already told you. It was just a dream."