May aim was to get this online before the next episode, so technically I made it! Haha. Semi-speculation fic for the next few episodes.

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This is Your Heart

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Can you feel it? Can you feel it?

…

When she starts to pull away he can see exactly why and, for once in his life, it's not him that's the problem. He can see the insecurity in her eyes, the way she watches him with caution and won't touch him anymore. And he knows that her fears are consuming her.

It had started after her near death on ice experience. He'd pulled her from the cavern and wrapped her in his coat, holding her close as she had regained consciousness. The sounds of Elsa's apologies had been lost on him, his entire focus caught up in the princess in his lap. And when her eyes had finally opened, he had kissed her temple and asked her to never do that to him again.

Even then, when everything around them was racing, when there was too much happening, when their relationship should have been the furthest thing from their minds, Killian had felt Emma's walls come up just a little.

Still, when he'd wrapped her in as many blankets as he had in his room at Granny's and had bid her goodnight, she had reached out to grasp his hand and ask him to stay with her. For one glorious moment he'd thought he had everything on track, closing his eyes to a peaceful sleep for the first time in as long as he can remember. That was, until he awoke the next morning with a pile of blankets and a still slightly warm, but uninhabited other side of the bed.

And if he thought she had been avoiding him before, it was nothing on the complete freeze out he was getting now.

…

"I don't want to hurt you," she says, pushing him away and walking past him on her way from the docks to the sheriff's station.

"You're not going to hurt me, Emma." He accentuates her name, knowing the way it affects her to hear him say it.

She turns around and he sees, for the first time, the dark circles under her eyes, the demons playing across her features like a story to tell the world. But, of course, he knows that her story is just for him. It's a sordid tale of how fear of living inhibits life itself, a tale of how her icy death would have utterly broken him. But it's missing a chapter, a very important conclusion – he will break without her, whether she is alive or dead.

But as clearly as he sees her story, she can see his. It probably means that they're soul mates, she muses before chastising herself for flirting with the concept. It would be too easy to allow herself those thoughts, too easy to fall into the trap.

"Don't you see that I've already hurt you?" she whispers, refusing to let the tears that are welling at the back of her eyes spill over.

She takes his moment of silence as her escape route and, before he gets a chance to say anything further, she's halfway up the hill leaving back into town.

…

"Darling, you're not going to break me," he says one night when he happens to catch her at Granny's diner. He'd leaned into her personal space and she had leaned right back until, chest to chest, they'd collided and she had withdrawn.

She holds her hands up in defence, "I know, I just… give me some time."

The growl that escapes him isn't menacing, but it is pained, "Emma, please just let me in."

She closes her eyes, gathering her strength before she meets his gaze, "You are in, Killian. That's the problem."

It takes him a moment to process her words, the brutal honesty hitting him in the chest, but before the door can swing closed behind her, he's chasing her out of the diner and into the street.

"Emma. Sweetheart, please," he calls, catching her arm with his hook as she attempts to stride away from him. "I'm sorry," he whispers, "I want you to feel safe in your conclusions of me, but I can't let you walk away tonight. I can't lose you."

He's close. Too close. She can feel her resolve cracking, but she knows she needs to stay strong. His hook runs up and down her arm, as though he's not sure what to do next.

"Killian, when I was trapped in that ice, I couldn't hear a thing that was happening on the other side of the wall. I should have had no idea what was going on at all. But I did."

He frowns, not knowing if this is a good thing or not.

"I could sense you; I could feel your concern even when I was unconscious. You were the person pulling me out."

He does that little smile as he scratches the back of his neck and steps closer to her, "Swan, I fail to see how that is a bad thing."

"I could feel your pain too. How much I was hurting you."

His heart sinks at that, because there is no denying the world of pain he was in, but he needs her know that he would suffer that a hundred times over for her, would hurt for the rest of his life if it meant getting to hold her at night and kiss away her fears.

"You said it yourself – I'm already in. And I'm not prone to leaving, not when it comes to you." His fingertips brush over her cheek and slide a lock of hair behind her ear. And she feels herself giving in.

"Killian, I can't promise that this is going to be easy."

He takes the moment, knowing that if he hesitates she could change her mind. "Easy is boring," he says, sweeping down to capture her lips with his, pushing his hand into her hair and pulling her tighter against him with his other arm. He feels her hand on his collar and ducks his head slightly, encouraging her to touch him, to allow herself to be in the moment. And the second she winds her arm around his neck and lifts on her toes to deepen their embrace, he feels the floodgates open.

Her breathy moan nearly breaks him as he pulls her hips flush with his and this is the furthest that they've allowed themselves to indulge in. It's like fire between them and he can't help but want more.

But then, above them, a light shatters and sparks fly to the ground as Emma pulls back with a start. "Shit," she curses, "I can't control it, Killian. I'm not safe."

She is breathless and looks thoroughly kissed and he loves her even more in this moment than he ever has. But she's left him speechless and, before he can even begin to tell her how much he enjoys danger, she's made it to the other side of the street.

…

He still refuses to leave her side, coming up with different excuses every day to go to her and try to get her to talk to him. He changes his clothes for dramatic effect and, while it does leave her speechless for a moment, she finds her words eventually and pushes him out of the sheriff's station with a pained look on her face and a lack of conviction in her eyes.

But as much as she tries, she can't keep him out. And, while her father has semi-approved of their almost relationship, he is more than happy to help out in the matter of keeping Killian away from Emma. So when the saviour clocks on for her graveyard shift at the station, she is slightly confused by the smug look on her father's face and the suspicious looking hook hanging up next to Graham's old leather jacket in the corner.

"This won't help with him hanging around, but at least you can go on patrol without the worry of him showing up halfway through a pursuit."

Emma takes a look over David's shoulder and sees a very dejected looking Killian holed up in the cell beside her desk.

"Hi love," he says, waving with his stump. And she has to laugh at that.

She ducks her head in thanks towards the prince as he walks out, ready to go home and see his wife and son.

"You know he did this as much for me as he did for you, right?" Killian asks from his cell, standing up from the cot and making his way to the barred door, poking his arms through the gaps and leaning his face up against the bars. "He wants us to talk, to work out how to be together."

She rolls her eyes, dropping herself down into her seat and spinning it to face the pirate. Despite herself, she still can't get over his new attire and she has to fight the urge to just throw caution to the wind and get up and kiss him. "My dad? He wants us to work things out? How long have you been in that cell? I think you've gone mad."

He smiles at her defensiveness, "The prince and I have reached an understanding," he says cryptically.

And dammit, she has to bite, "And what kind of understanding would that be?"

He leans back from the bars, raising his eyebrows, "Let me out, darling, and I would be more than happy to tell you all about it."

Despite herself, she is tempted. "I can't do that."

He's kept his calm all this time, but now she is starting to see the cracks. She can hear the way his voice wavers and the way he's starting to see how hard it might be to break through her walls. She wishes she could tell him that he's not that far away, that if he keeps fighting, he'll knock away the last of the fortress surrounding her.

But she doesn't tell him.

"You can do that, Emma. Can we please stop pretending that we're not dancing around an adult conversation and just have it?" He spins around and faces the wall, running a hand through his hair and growling in frustration.

It's easy to forget sometimes that he's centuries old, but lately she's been able to see the length of his life lived in the way he treats her, the way he is truly a gentleman when it comes to her.

And maybe opening the door to his cell so they can talk about things wouldn't be such a bad idea.

She grabs the keys from the drawer and walks over, wordlessly opening the lock and pushing the door open. He turns back around, expression defeated. His steps carry him towards her and he gathers her up in his arms, pulling her against his chest with a sighed, "Thank you," spoken into her hair.

Her hands shake as she raises them from where they are trapped between their bodies, up his chest, feeling the wall separating them crumbling from the inside out. His lips press softly along her hairline and she turns her head upwards to meet his gaze, seeing the absolute adoration in his eyes. And suddenly it's as simple as the night he'd revealed he'd traded his home to see her again. Simple and easy to pull him in.

The lights flicker around them, but neither of them notice, too caught up in their embrace to care about what is happening outside of their moment. He spins her around, backing her up against the brick wall and leaning into her as she lifts a leg to his hip. They break for breath, momentarily allowing reality to hit them. And when they realise that it's better than any fantasy they could conjure up, they share a smile and pick up exactly where they left off, lips crashing together, teeth hitting and noses bumping. His hand is wrapped in her hair and he tugs her head to the side in order to gain access to her neck, taking full advantage and working his way along her jaw.

She gasps when he hits a particularly sensitive spot on her neck, the very last of her fortress falling away with that one simple move, "Killian. Wait."

He raises his head from its current position, eyes roaming her face for signs of fear. But he finds none. Instead, he sees all he's ever wanted with her shining back up at him, the reservations of the past gone. She raises a hand to his cheek, cupping his face gently, "We still need to talk."

He smiles because she's smiling and they both know they're not talking tonight. He playfully nips at her earlobe as he leans in to whisper, "We can talk over dinner tonight."

And she laughs because Captain Hook just asked her on a date and then she sighs because his lips find their way back to hers and she knows that this is going to be something spectacular.

…