Disclaimer: I do not own any OUAT characters.

Emma scanned her eyes across the meadow that stretched away from the balcony before drifting into the woods. She had been watching some hawks stalking and swooping for rabbits in the tall grass, and their predatory search reminded her how hungry she had become. She lay on her stomach, her head resting on her arms, to watch as silently as she could. Her feet were wrapped up in Killian's legs, a sheet threaded through them at odd angles, as he leaned back on his arms and gazed out in the opposite direction.

She had been enjoying the wildlife, the birdsong and deer, blissfully peaceful, but the hunger pangs made her fingers itch for a bow and arrow.

"This is just paradise," Emma smiled over her shoulder at him, not admitting that she had considered shooting something in the paradise for dinner.

He smiled back at her, looking over her naked body wherever it emerged from the sheets. "I could stare out these windows for ages," he agreed, his gaze focussed securely on her. "I hope whoever owns this place isn't coming back anytime soon."

There had been no lock on the doors or windows, no need to mess about with wires and tumblers to break in. Just a large bedroom, with little more than the ornate four poster bed they were lying in now, and an adjoining bathroom, nearly the same size as the bedroom. And walls of windows, every side overlooking the surrounding, exquisite meadow. They had helped themselves.

Killian and Emma had been trekking through the Enchanted Forest for three weeks before finding this place, unattended and inviting. The chance to sleep in a bed, rather than on the bedrolls they had stolen, seemed too good to pass by. A thief and a pirate adrift in the woods had done just as well, materially, as they had the last time they tumbled through a portal. They had no trouble knicking what they needed off washing lines and out of pockets.

But as the hike dragged on with no way back to Storybrooke in sight, Emma had begun thinking of Killian laying her back in a soft bed, sliding his fingers down her body, rubbing his stubbly chin along the insides of her thighs. She had been wandering through the woods with her thoughts in the gutter, and then she had tripped over a tree root and fallen gracelessly into the dirt. By the time she pulled herself to her feet, cursing herself for not paying attention to her footing, Killian was around the next bend in the forest track. He called out that he had spotted a dwelling ahead.

They had arrived at the villa within 10 minutes. It had a pump for fresh water but few other amenities, pleasant but minimalist. The pump was enough to entice Emma inside. The forest smelled sweet, overwhelmingly of pine, but the thrill of bathing in icy cold rivers was wearing off and she longed to smell of soap rather than sediment. A bath, a bed… heaven.

Killian had immediately tackled her to the bed, scratching her with the length of rope he had draped over his shoulder. He unlaced her stolen clothing until he could slide the whole ensemble down over her breasts and hips. She heard it slip to the floor with a heavy sigh.

He tugged the rope off his shoulder and stood for a moment looking between it and Emma's naked body. He raised an eyebrow in a way that suggested he had stumbled upon an idea he particularly liked. He picked her up, moved her to the head of the bed and stretched her arms over her head, kissing up her neck to her lips as he did so. With his eyes fixed on hers, he leaned over and secured the rope around her left wrist and tied it to the bedpost. Then did the same with the right.

"Those aren't silk scarves, love. Don't struggle; they'll leave marks," he warned her with a lustful voice, not really asking for permission, or maybe assuming none was required.

Emma felt a smile bubble up onto her features at wicked grin he shot her way. The ropes slightly unsettled her. He unsettled her. All sweetness and handholding, and then ropes and implied consent. It was straight-up PG until it was porn, all in a moment. So far, all he did had walked the correct side of the line, but his behaviour kept her guessing, kept her realising how little she knew about him other than what he allowed her to know.

Still… here he was kissing a trail down her body, and here she was holding onto the bedposts for dear life, trying to keep the ropes from biting into her wrists as he dropped his tongue between her legs. She felt herself dripping for his touch, felt him slide two fingers inside her, curling them against just the right spot as his tongue held pressure against the throb in her clit. He had her screaming his name over and over, birds outside the floor-to-ceiling windows taking flight at the sounds she made for him. It felt far beyond good; everything he did to her felt incredible. She found some level trust in that simple success.

This latest fall through a portal had brought Killian and Emma together at last, carrying over the first stirrings of trust and belief that Emma had felt in Storybrooke. With the ice queen defeated, a sliver of normality seemed to be seeping into Storybrooke life, a quiet moment as Killian called it. He had met her by her car, bought her a coffee, and slipped his arm around her waist as they walked down the street together, all utterly normal. Killian had been looking at her, the quiet Main Street bewitching him into complacency, and as he took her hand to step into the street towards the library, the ground disappeared beneath him. The portal had sucked them both in before they had time to register its presence.

Killian had picked himself up from the leaves and pine needles, swearing.

"Not this place. Not again," he had shut his eyes and rubbed his fingers over his temples.

"For someone from the Enchanted Forest, you seem hugely disappointed every time we wind up back here," Emma had answered, reaching out for his hand to pull her up. "Besides, you went into that portal first, so you must have been thinking about this place on some level."

"I was thinking, 'Not the Enchanted Forest again.' Which I suppose is thinking about the Enchanted Forest." He glared off the side to avoid looking at her, training his anger on the middle distance.

"Next time think of a beach resort in Mexico," Emma had grinned at him.

No mere portal jump was going to devastate Emma this time around. She felt optimistic. They had already been back and forth between realms a few times now, and she had every faith they would find a way back. "C'mon, Captain," she put her arms around his waist to cheer him up. "We can fix this."

"We don't know who opened that portal, or why," he responded, not shaking off her embrace but not returning it. "Either they sent us here to get us out of the way, and Storybrooke is in danger, or they are waiting for us here and they will attack."

Emma sighed. She dusted herself off and looked around them. She saw nothing but virgin pine forest in every direction, the air still and cool. "We could head towards my parents' castle. There may be someone there, or in the surrounding town, that could help us."

Killian tipped his head up to the sky in frustration and brought it back down in resignation. "That's as good a plan as any." He looked down at his jeans and black shirt. "And now we're both dressed for the wrong realm."

Emma moved her hands around to his chest and fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. "Fine, let's go steal ourselves a new outfit and get you out of those clothes," she smiled up at him through his lashes.

Killian considered her without smiling, raising a sceptical eyebrow. "This portal has put you in a good mood." Killian placed little faith in her good mood. He had seen her moods shift plenty.

"As you once told me told me, we have to savour the moments when no one is actively attempting to kill us," she laid her head of his shoulder. "And now we have some time together. Just us."

"Just us and whatever is in this forest," he nodded.

"This portal has put you in a bad mood," she chastised, walking off down the largest path in search of a washing line of clothes. Killian followed without hesitation.

Emma's will-I/ should-I questions had evaporated on that first night of their trek, beside a fire that Killian lit in a quiet clearing. He had backed marginally away from the fire to throw on another log, when she settled in next to him, slipping her hands up his back and towards his shoulders. She was still trying to bump him out of his temper. She leaned in to kiss him, softly, before he could interrogate her as to her intentions. Her intentions remained unclear, even to Emma herself, a hazy idea that she would give him a push, then would follow along if he led. Following was out of character, but she was also out of her depth. She was hyper-aware that anything that involved the shedding of clothing in front of a campfire might mean more to him than he was willing to give without a statement of intent.

As it turned out, Killian's lust had required no grand emotional admissions on her part. He had her undressed and whispering his name before she entirely realised that they were no longer just kissing. Pirate, she thought. Disturbingly attractive pirate, she thought again.

By the time she felt able to take back some control of the situation, she lay panting next to him on a scratchy wool blanket, as he murmured praises into her shoulder about how beautiful she had looked while his tongue had brought her to orgasm. He pulled her tightly against him. She finally managed to speak coherent words, enough to tell him that she wanted him inside of her. He grinned and lifted himself over her. He sucked a nipple into his mouth and she gasped; she spread her legs a bit wider as he settled himself between her thighs. His mouth let go of her nipple, his thumb coming up to stroke it as he looked into her eyes.

She feared for a moment that he might tell her that he loved her.

But he didn't. He kissed her and bit her lower lip, holding her gaze as nudged her entrance. Emma held her breath; neither of them had had condoms in their pockets on that early morning walk to work in Storybrooke, and her birth control pills were sitting on a shelf in her kitchen, a whole realm away. So Killian waited, lined up and tugging at her bottom lip, for explicit permission.

Lust overruled her ability to process consequences. She thrust her hips up, taking him in almost to the hilt. He released her lip and her head fell back onto the ground, her eyes closing to focus on the sensation of him pressing into her as deep as possible. He moved in deep circles that stimulated her clit, until she begged him to take her harder. Killian's eyes went a bit wider at her words, and he thrust faster, changing the angle until he was hitting just the right spot. She murmured and moaned into his neck. He stroked that spot with his thrusts until her moans lost coherence and became loud enough to make him move his ear slightly further from her mouth.

"Say my name," he ordered. He knew that "I love you" was out of the question. She wasn't going to tell him what he wanted to hear. But he wanted to know that she was focussed on him; he wanted an acknowledgement that he was irreplaceable for her, that her body craved him.

Emma complied loudly and enthusiastically. She called out his name, told him that he was the best she had ever had, told him she was so close. Then she was screaming his name into the trees overhead and pulsing around him. He thrust twice more before released himself into her, burying his face into her chest and pushing himself into her as deep as he could while they came down slowly.

Emma stroked her fingers through his damp hair and kissed the sweat off his forehead. He eventually brought his face up to hers with a satisfied grin, and he kissed her gently. He scooted himself just to the side on the bedroll and kept her close, still wrapped up protectively against his body.

She wished she could just tell him she loved him; this was the right moment. But two hundred years of blank pages, all that history she knew nothing about… not yet. For all she thought she knew him, she did not, entirely. She was running her fingers along his hook, considering what she could say or do short of handing him what he wanted, which was certainly her heart. A grand gesture was required. Suddenly she looked up at him. He was considering her with intense blue eyes.

"Do you want your hand back?" she asked impulsively.

"These are your first words about our first time?" he replied, unimpressed.

She smiled. "Well, I think I already mentioned that you were the best I have ever had…"

"I never know how much stock to put into things said while a woman is in that state," he responded as neutrally as possible. "As for the hand, I tried that once before and it didn't take." The question had put all the tension back into his face and shoulders.

"But that was The Dark One. My magic is different. I can see in my mind where he keeps your hand; I can put it back on for you now, good as new. Or debauched as ever. I'll like it either way," she smiled again, encouragingly.

He ignored the sexual prompt. "Why are you making this offer?" He sounded edgy.

"Two reasons. I think the hook ties you to a painful past in a physical way, and maybe you are ready to let go of the symbol?" She feels him moving slightly away from her, offended and uncertain and defensive. "And, selfishly," she looked up at him, brought her lips right next to his ear, and breathed softly, "I have felt what you do to my body with one hand, and I'm dying to see what two can accomplish."

Killian leaned back against the pine needles on the forest floor, and he gazed into the fire for longer than she had anticipated, making his decision. "Alright, sorceress. Make it happen," he finally conceded.

She used the hook to pull him upright, and sat facing him, holding the hook in her hands. She closed her eyes, and found herself looking around Gold's shop back in Storybrooke. Her mind peeked into drawers and cabinets around the shop, finally locating the glass jar with his hand inside. She could feel Gold's presence; he knew she was there. She had to be quick, before he realised what she had come for. She kept hold of the hook with one hand and brought the other just above it, glowing white. The next moment, she felt Killian threading the fingers of his left hand through hers.

"Bloody hell, Swan" he swore. "You did it."

They both sat turning his arm this way and that, watching in the firelight as he adjusted to feel of it on his arm. He leaned back on his right hand and used the left to pull her quickly onto his lap.

"Okay, let's see what two hands can accomplish," he whispered into her hair.

...

Their journey towards Snow and Charming's castle took ages, as they missed off whole days to run their hands and tongues over each other's bodies. They looked for ways home, sure they did. They talked about it, about getting back to Henry, to her family, to birth control pills and hot coffee.

Emma found it undoubtedly easier to let her walls down with Killian when no one they knew was around. No one made anything of them, here. No parental expectations and no need to declare anything publicly. He never asked her for more than she would give. That first morning, she had threaded her fingers through his easily, carelessly. He had given her a wary look, but saw something unusually open in her expression that had made him smile. Honestly, he had been smiling now for most of their journey. And using his new left hand to great effect.

Then, they found the villa. They stayed in or near the enormous, soft bed for three days, exhausting themselves, sleeping, watching the stars through the glass skylight above the bed.

"It is an exquisite view," Emma exhaled every residual tension, watching those hawks circle the meadow with purpose and grace. She was considering telling him that she loved him. None of her misgivings about him had manifested. When she wanted to stop, he stopped. When she wanted more, he gave it. She had found nothing in 3 days to give her even the slightest cause for concern. Nothing in 3 weeks. The ropes were untied and her wrists unharmed, the references to centuries of sexual experience only meant he knew exactly how to please her, and his tetchiness could hardly be faulted given her own personality.

"The water looks beautiful," he leaned over her, oblivious to her thoughts, and kissed her gently. He tugged away part of the sheet that blocked access to her right breast. He rolled his thumb across her nipple, then slid his hand to her back and let his fingers trail down her spine. "Let's go for a swim."

She smiled at him indulgently. "Sure, let's swim." She stood up and looked out the window curiously. "Have you seen a pond?"

Killian's smile faltered. "A pond?" He looked at her closely and swept his arm towards the window. "No, I meant in the sea, of course."

Emma froze. The villa seemed to tilt slightly with his out-of-sync answer. She searched his face. Joking? Not a hint of it. "What. Ocean."

They both shot upright in the bed and looked out the windows. Too good to be true was always too good to be true, and she should have known that. He should have known that. Emma reached out tentatively and touched his hand, concentrating on Killian and how he thought of this situation. The scene around her changed abruptly. The smell of the meadow evaporated and the softest of sea breezes was blowing through the open windows. The villa remained the same, but was now surrounded by nothing but ocean on all sides, an unreal blue and clear for meters under the surface. She could see shoals of fish diving and rising in the water, and a whale breaching in the distance, calling its song across the gentle waves.

"Oh, shit." She looked at Killian. "Noooo… we were not seeing the same thing."

Killian shook her hand off and, for her, the ocean evaporated and the meadow reappeared with its birdsong and deep scent of the woods in the distance. He put his hands back on hers, concentrated all of his attention on her, and breathed out sharply. "Forest. Unnaturally beautiful forest," he sighed.

He took his hands off hers to see what happened. "Back to the sea. Looks like we've gone on different holidays, love."

"This stuff doesn't even freak you out anymore, does it?" Emma asked, disturbed.

"I've had 200 years of magic messing with my life and my head. I have been touching you with a hand that was cut off so long ago that I cannot believe it has sensation. So this," he waved his newly restored hand towards the windows, "is unexpected, but really I should have realised that this whole thing was surreal. Too blue, too warm, too perfect. The breeze hasn't shifted in days."

Emma looked into his eyes, thought about his love for her, thought about his outlook, and without touching him, the sea reappeared around her.

She relaxed and smiled. "There, now we are. Shall we go for that swim?"

"What, jump into the shifting puddle of magic? I don't think that's wise, love."

Emma shook her head. "So is this villa enchanted? It feels like light magic, nothing sinister. Fairies? Pixies?"

Killian sighed and fell back against the headboard. "I have no idea. It feels unthreatening, but then much of Neverland felt unthreatening if you didn't know any better."

Emma's mood had shifted, but she still had the warm afterglow of the days in the villa, with him, and it imbued her with an uncharacteristic optimism. She sat up and crossed her legs in front of him, sitting like a child with a winning smile of her face, and reached out her hands. "Come here, pirate. Sit like this, and take my hands." She hauled him up towards her.

Three days of unadulterated access to Emma's body had put Killian in an unsinkably good mood as well. He did as she asked, and sat facing her with their hand clasped together over their knees. "I wonder," she grinned, "if we can make it shift. Anywhere, anything, and we'll both be able to see it. You go first."

Killian closed his eyes. "Go on, Swan, close your eyes. I'll pick us a nice spot." He thought for a few moments, then said, "Open."

Emma gasped: "A little village on a cove, seagulls, enormous waves, stormy seas. There are worn-looking houses with shutters, all warm with lights. It looks cozy."

Killian smiled. "This does work. It's the village where I was born."

Emma melted, and she leaned over to kiss him deeply, one blank page filled in. "Thank you for showing me that."

They both looked around, while Killian pointed out his old home, the small harbour, and the bakery where he had first stolen anything, ever. "So that's ground zero of piracy for Killian Jones," Emma laughed.

"All right, Emma. Your turn," he said.

They opened their eyes to a loud street in central Portland, traffic and pedestrians a strange intrusion as they sat naked on a bed. No one, it seemed, could see them. Emma pointed out a faded yellow house, large, with a wraparound porch that needed painting.

"My last foster home," she said. "When I ran away from that one, I never looked back. I was out of the system until Neil landed me in prison about 8 months later."

They continued the game for a while, transporting themselves to real places (a café in Central Park that Emma loved) and imaginary (a snow-bound temple high in the mountains of a land that did not exist but Killian had read about).

But Emma suddenly remembered her hunger. And then she realised something was sinister about this place. "Killian, it's been three days here and there's no food. And I don't know about you, but I haven't been hungry. Until now."

He looked around, already familiar with every inch of the small villa. "So we are trapped in a very enticing enchantment, but will probably die of hunger as we cannot leave the villa to venture out into any of these lands."

"Who could have created the enchantment?" Emma asked. "How do we break it? I can't remember how the land outside this villa looked when we arrived. The enchantment must have taken hold after we came inside."

Killian arched an eyebrow at her. "Given that the enchantment fits our every desire so personally, feels utterly safe, even lets us change it and show each other our dreamscapes…" He paused, uncertain how to finish the sentence without setting her off. "I think one of us created it," he said. Then he added pointedly, "And it wasn't me."

Emma backed off him in shock. "You think I trapped us here to die?"

Killian shook his head at her and reached out to hold her. "No, of course not, Emma, love. Look at me." His words had switched off all the light in her. "I think you created all of this to give us space, you know, just for us. We don't get a lot of time alone, with no monsters or demands. No David looking like he wants to punch me every time I get near you. And most importantly, none of your walls."

Emma shook her head furiously. "I did not do this. I don't see how I could. How would I do this?"

"Isn't Regina always telling you that magic comes from emotion? Particularly yours. Maybe you were feeling quite… emotional?" He tread carefully around the words, realising that this was going to call for Emma to acknowledge her feelings for him. He knew she'd rather not, despite three weeks of sexual intimacy. It did not mean she was ready to discuss emotional intimacy. "All this time out here together…?"

"And what emotion do you think created this?" Emma set her feet down decisively on the floor. "You are constantly fishing for me to admit to something more than I feel."

Killian sighed to himself. She would fight forever rather than admit any sort of connection, and they would starve. He tried another tack. Killian stood up now, looking at her more fiercely and allowing a level of annoyance into his voice. "More than you will admit, but not more than you feel, apparently, judging by the very personal landscapes. You created a little paradise for us to be together. So you tell me… what emotion do you think created all this?"

Emma shrieked in anger. "You are infuriating! I did not do this!" She shoved him so that his back hit the wall, hard.

"Three weeks of this, Swan! Us on bedrolls in front of a campfire every night, up against random trees in the forest, on a dark table in a tavern, down several alleyways because you have a wicked thing about getting caught… and now three days of nonstop sex in enchantment villa here and we are only just now realising we're hungry? Do you not think that speaks of something more than a casual fuck?"

Emma seethed, gripping her hands into fists. "You are not going to trick me into saying that I love you!" She felt anger overrunning every other thought. "I will not listen to any more talk of love!"

There was a sound like glass shattering, and the mirage around the villa rained down on them in tiny shards that evaporated before they touched the ground. The villa disappeared, and Emma and Killian fell onto the forest floor, near the bedrolls and supplies they had stolen at the start of their journey. The air felt cold and the ground felt colder. The skies had darkened, and a far-off clap of thunder warned that the weather had turned. The sunshine and warm air inside the villa had gone, gone, gone.

Emma sat shocked into silence that her temper had broken the enchantment. She might not admit it out loud, but his theory had been proven. She loved him, and that love had created the enchantment. His provoking a fight had shattered it.

"Well done, Swan," Killian smiled triumphantly. "We're free. Now get up, love, and get some clothes on. Let's find a tavern. I'm starving."

"Killian… I, um, clearly…"

Killian waved off her confessions with a flourish of his hand. "Save it for a session with Dr Hopper, Swan. There is nothing more I can do with denial on this level. You managed to create and destroy an entire vacation home built of love and magic without at any time admitting that you have feelings for me." Killian had already pulled on his trousers and shirt and was considering which direction would yield a village most quickly.

Emma quickly stepped in front of him as he turned to storm off up the path. She caught his hands in hers and searched his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Killian. I know you are my happy ending."

"No," Killian snapped. He pulled back and held up his hands against her words. "I am not your happy ending and you are not mine. I kept worrying that villains would not get happy endings, no matter how reformed, but it seems to me that no one gets one. What was your parents' happy ending? True love's kiss that brought Snow back from Regina's sleeping curse? Their wedding, when Regina threatened their lives? Or when they had to put their fragile firstborn into a magic wardrobe within minutes of the birth?"

Emma, so used to him chasing her love, had no words to answer him denying it.

"They have their true love, well and good, but that was no happy ending for them. The tragedy and struggle just kept on coming. And you, Swan, will not even let us have the one thing that makes the continuing struggle worth it."

The first smatterings of rain were hitting the leaves in the canopy above them. Killian exhaled deeply, then moved to help her lace the front of her dress. "Even when you do admit that you love me…"

"I do, Killian. I do love you," Emma whispered into him.

"Even now you do," he corrected, lifting her chin to look into her eyes, "You will still have to continue to trust and believe in me through all the crises and uncertainties. And there will be plenty. There is not a magic in that declaration that means everything is fine forever. This does not end happily, it just has the happiness of our love woven through it. You have to keep faith in that love every day."

The rain had begun to come down more insistently. She felt that he had just shifted the goalpost rather dramatically. He pulled her into him and kissed her, his lips brushing over hers until she responded. They stood under the shelter of the tree canopy for a few more minutes, deepening that kiss, until Killian rested his forehead against hers and took a breath.

"Now let's go find that tavern before we starve or freeze," he put his arm around her waist, just as he had back in Storybrooke, and steered her down the path. When she hesitated, wanting something more for her declaration of love than it had gained her, he turned and took both her hands. "Come on, love. I'll find us a nice alleyway."

"Promise?" she smiled, and followed him.