Sleep was elusive, impossible. In these dark days he couldn't determine which was worse: the frustration of the days or the endlessness of the nights. The one thing that never wavered was how much he missed Emma. The pain of it was palpable. It was worse than the year away from her after Pan's curse, and it was worse than the centuries spent in his quest for vengeance.

He rolled to the edge of the bed, his bare feet finding the cool, smooth wooden floor. He was still at Granny's. Being in these surroundings, amongst these people, gave him the only sense of belonging he'd known since his journeys had begun. The Jolly Roger was moored in her usual place, but to the man he'd become over the past two years, it was too secluded. He'd discovered that the adage about misery loving company was indeed true.

He reached under his pillow, seeking the solid familiarity of the dagger he kept there. Perhaps the safe on the Jolly would be a more secure place for it, but he didn't want to part with it. When he'd been entrusted with its keeping, the understanding was that nobody would use it to control Emma, and so he kept it close, knowing that he had only to call her to bring her to his side, yet foregoing that privilege because her free will mattered more. His hand flattened, searching, and coming up with nothing.

"I have it."

It was her voice, speaking softly out of the shadows in the corner of the room.
"Emma?"

She stepped forward, her skin glowing like diamonds, her lips red and her eyes dark and smoky. "Why didn't you call on me, Killian?"

The words wouldn't form, so he reached toward her, and she came to him soundlessly.

"How long have you been here?" he finally managed to say. The words sounded rough, barely audible.

She laughed, but it was a joyless sound. "The better question would be how many times I have been here." And then she was upon him, her lips finding and devouring his mouth. Her teeth raked against him and her tongue delved inside. Her hands grasped at his hair, tugging, her fingers raking his scalp.

"I want you," she told him.

"Emma, please, not like this."

And then she was gone.

Insistent knocking in the middle of the night was probably third on David's list of ways he did not like to be roused from sleep; number one being a curse containing any color of smoke or fire, and number two being a raid by the Queen's guard, particularly when holding his newly born infant daughter. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and blinked at the clock. One-fifteen. Great. The baby would be up in an hour for his nightly feeding and it was going to be a very short night.

The pounding continued. "Yeah, all right. Hold your horses, there's a baby sleeping in here." He swung the door open to reveal an extremely disheveled Killian Jones. "Hook, what the hell are you doing?"

"Didn't mean to stir a fuss, mate. It's Emma."

David ushered him in, and couldn't help noticing that nothing seemed right about the other man. Killian's hair was uncombed and his shirt was untucked. And he wasn't wearing a jacket. "Where's your…?"

"Emma." He strode back and forth, hand alternately running through his hair and then dropping to his side, reflexively grasping at something that wasn't there.

David reached out, stilling him. "Did you see her?" He was mindful to keep his voice low, hoping to not rouse either the baby or Snow.

"She came to my room."

"What did she say?"

Killian's hand went to his hair again and he backed away. "Uh, I'm not sure you want to know."

David let out a sigh, sure that Hook was right, because even knowing it was something he didn't want to know was too much information. "Just tell me this – is she gone?"

"Aye."

"And?" There had to be more.

"She took the bloody dagger."

"What!?" The word was out, and loud, and David knew Snow was awake before she even called out to him. It was too late for stealth, but he lowered his voice anyway. "How did she get it?"

"It might have been under my pillow."

"David, what's going on?" Snow wandered in wearing her robe and holding Neal, who was wide awake and happy to have company. She stopped short when she saw their guest. "What happened to you?"

"Emma paid him a visit," David told her.

"Oh."

"And she took the dagger," Killian said.

"Ooooooh." She looked Killian over. "Is that all she did?"

"We don't want to know," David said.

She shot him one of her looks. "I want to know." She turned back to Killian. "She's changed her lipstick to red," she stated.

He touched his lips. "Oh, uh, that…"

"Can we just talk about the dagger?" David asked.

Hook plopped down onto a kitchen stool and Snow went about getting a bottle ready for the baby, who was sucking on his fist and gurgling. David followed and took up the stool next to the pirate. "Did she give you any indication about what she was going to do?"

"Nothing, mate. She just took it, and left."

"How did she seem?" Snow asked. "Was she happy or angry?"

Killian looked from David to Snow. He gulped. "She seemed, uh, a bit needful."

Snow eyed the smeared lip stain on his mouth again, and handed him a napkin. "Where's your jacket?" she asked.

"I don't know. Couldn't find it."

"I'll tell you what," She said. "You can spend the night up in the loft, and we will figure out what to do in the morning."

That sounded like a crazy plan to David. "Snow, she's out there with the dagger."

"And there's nothing we can do about that. We can meet with Gold and Regina tomorrow. Magic will be a help."

"Agreed."

The next morning, Killian found his room untouched, or at least unchanged from the condition it had been in when he'd left the night before. He showered and dressed, looking again, fruitlessly, for his jacket. He settled for his old coat, which felt heavy and constricting after the newer jacket. Something about it didn't feel right, so he removed it, placing it across the foot of the bed, and he decided to make do with his vest. Hair combed and charcoal liner in place, he pocketed his flask in the back pocket of his pants, and headed toward the library.

Two hours later, nothing had been settled. Gold and Regina attempted a locator spell, which was inconclusive, as it seemed the Emma must be circling the town, and the indications of her presence were everywhere. Her mother had tried to call her on the cellular device. Killian warned her it was an empty endeavor. He'd spent weeks trying that himself. What an annoying piece of modern technology it was. The only thing that kept him from throwing it into the harbor had been her picture, which she'd stored there. He could see it whenever he pushed the Emma button and there she'd be, with her sweet smile and that damned knitted cap she liked to wear to keep her head warm.

He spent the rest of the day with David at the station, and finally returned to his room to sleep. The room was quiet, and everything appeared untouched.

Except his coat was missing.

She came to him again that night. Her hair was unbound, and arrayed in wild curls over her shoulders and down her back. She nipped at his ears and his jawline and his neck and burrowed her hands under his nightshirt. The buttons few off as the cotton fabric gave way and her wicked mouth found his chest.

"Emma, this isn't you," he gasped.

"I need you," she said.

He groaned and sagged back onto his pillow. "I need you too, love. Come back to me. Please, come back to me."

She stilled, and then slowly and softly raised her hand to his cheek. She didn't say another word before she disappeared, leaving the room empty and silent, save for the sound of his own gasping breath.

"Not again." David opened the door and stood aside, letting Killian in.

"Sorry, mate."

"Emma?"

"Aye."

"You're wearing a blanket."

"She took my shirts."

"All of them?"

"All but the one I was wearing."

"And where is that?"

Killian produced the shredded garment from under his covering. David closed his eyes and pretended he hadn't seen it. He pointed to the ladder and Killian climbed up to the room.

David locked the door, a senseless move at this point, but one born out of habit, and slipped back into bed next to his wife.

"Hook again?" she whispered.

"I'm going to have to give him some clothes."

"He's smaller than you."

"We need more stores in this town."

It was hard to pull off devilishly handsome rapscallion when one was donned in plaid cotton that was two sizes too large.

"Didn't you used to be a pirate?" the grumpy dwarf asked him.

Killian answered by thumping the diner's counter with his hook and digging it into the surface a good half inch. He realized he should have thought that out a bit more when Granny spun and fixed him with a murderous glare over the tops of her spectacles.

"That's getting added onto your rent," she told him.

"My apologies."

Grumpy laughed and every eye in the place turned towards him. Everything that man did was loud. "You look like you're playing dress up to be a lumberjack."

Killian shot him a look that had cowed pirate captains throughout the realms, but the man just continued to chuckle. "Where's your earring?"

Bloody hell, she'd taken that, too.

He didn't attempt to stay in his room that night. The Charmings had the room ready for him, and the closet there was now stocked with shirts and pants and shoes in his size. He'd shopped during the day and purchased the new apparel, but would it would be weeks before his new jacket would be ready.

After returning to his room following the mortifying breakfast with the loud mouthed Leroy, he'd discovered that Emma had made off with everything else he'd kept stored there. The prince had insisted in moving him into the loft, and Snow White had seemed to be fine with the arrangement. She looked him over when he arrived.

"You look different."

She studied him intently.

"It's not just the clothes, it's…" Her eyes widened. "You're not wearing any…"

David studied him. "Mary Margaret, you're right. Never thought I'd see the day."

"She took your guyliner?" Snow asked.

"The only bloody thing that she hasn't taken is my hook," Killian said. "And that's probably because it's attached."

Snow turned to her husband. "David, why is she doing this?"

"Beats me. I was going to ask you, since you're the female here."

She furrowed her brow. "I really don't know." She looked him over again. "I must say that you do look softer, somehow."

"Softer!"

"More approachable," she clarified.

"Just what I was going for," he said, "the approachable pirate. Everyone will be quaking in fear."

She patted his hand. "Killian, you look real."

Real. She said it as if that were a good thing.

"Killian."

Now the lips were soft, and the hands caressing.

Her head was on his shoulder and he turned, burying his face in her hair and breathing in the scent that assured him this was still Emma.

"Love, why are you doing this?"

"I need to touch you," she said.

"And my things?"

"They're my things now," she replied, seeming to think that would make sense to him. She wrapped her arms around him and burrowed more deeply against him, her lips caressing his shoulder and his chest.

"We're going to get you back," he vowed.

"Yes, I know."

There was much he wanted to know, but for now she was here with him and he was reluctant to probe, fearing his need would send her away. Tonight her skin was soft and warm, and her gown silken. His fingertips slid across her, finding the small of her back and the gentle slope of her hip.

"If I kiss you, will you be free?" he asked.

"The darkness would find a new home," she said. "I can't risk that."

"Your first night back, you kissed me, and you didn't change."

"Yes, I did."

He looked down at her then, finding her gaze full of love. He didn't understand.

"When I kissed you, I came back to myself. I was able to push the darkness down, but it's still there. I went back to get the dagger, but when I kissed you, I knew I didn't need to have it."

"But you took it."

"I don't want any of you to have the weight of that."

His mouth felt dry. He swallowed, but found no relief. "What can I do?" His voice sounded like a harsh rasp in the still air.

"Do what you've been doing. Work with my family to find a way. They're your family now."

The truth of the words struck him.

She pulled away. "I have to go."

"What about my things."

"Mine until I'm free."

"So it's a trade of sorts?" He felt the smile creep onto his face. It was a rare sensation these days.

"Aye, mate," she said, in a horrible approximation of his accent. He'd never loved her more.

"I'll keep them safe for you," he told her, as her form shifted and changed into vapor.

"I know you will. I love you."

The words hung in the room, and Killian felt hope.

~END~