Author's Note: Hi! I'm new to this fandom and this is my first story for this wonderful show. Please forgive me if anyone seems out of character. Spoilers for 3x17 and slight AU for the episodes that follow it. I hope you will enjoy!

"She taught me all about real sacrifice. That it should be done from love."

—Veronica Roth

"I swear on Emma Swan."

It haunts his dreams. The sinister way Ariel's lips turned upwards after his confession, the green smoke that filled the air, the way his lips burned after the curse was placed on him. He'd been tricked and now, he's a danger to her.

"Kiss the Savior. Steal her magic."

He's been avoiding Emma ever since. Keeping the distance as far as he can between them because he can't risk hurting her, can't take the chance that he would be her undoing. It kills him a little bit every time he leaves her side, her eyes wide and mixed with concern and hurt. He'd vowed to steal her heart and now, he has to abandon it.

He wants to scream up at the sky for the way fate has treated him. Maybe he is the villain after all and if that's the case, he doesn't deserve a happy ending. But he had hoped—

"Killian?"

Henry taps his shoulder and Hook nearly jumps, then curses himself for being so lost in thought that he couldn't hear the boy's footsteps. The pier always has a calming effect on him, being so close to the waves and the salty air. It's like if he closed his eyes, he can pretend that he's back on the sea with Emma safe here.

"Aye, lad?" His own voice is tired and rough around the edges. He hasn't been sleeping well as of late and he can't seem to get his mind to quiet even when preoccupied with other things.

Henry shifts his weight from side to side, almost uneasily.

"It's . . ." He hesitates, somewhat unsure. "It's my mom."

At that, Killian immediately stiffens. Facing the boy, he schools his expression and tries to keep the worry from bubbling over into full-blown panic.

"What about your mom?" If Zelena has touched one hair on her head, Hook will run her through. He will surrender to the darkness within him and enjoy torturing her, making her die slowly and ever so painfully—

"She's stress baking." Henry mutters quickly, frowning. "And normally, it wouldn't be a big deal, but she's already got three batches of chocolate chip cookies, two apple pies and when I left, she was working on cherry cobbler." The boy meets his gaze, hopeful. "Could you go talk to her?"

"Me?" He echoes.

"Yeah." Emma's son beams. "You make her smile and I'm sure you could calm her down."

It's such a simple statement, told frankly by a young teen, but it brings an unashamed grin to Hook's lips. It's true, he cares for Emma and he's grown fond of Henry as well, but he knows that as long as Zelena's curse is upon him, he can't do anything.

He can't risk Emma's safety.

"I'm a bit busy now," He lies, easily and Henry's expression grows dejected. "Sorry, lad."

"Why are you avoiding her?" Henry questions.

"I'm not—" He protests, but Emma's son is not going to take any more of his lies.

"The other day when we were at the diner, you saw Mom and practically ran the other direction from her." Henry folds his arms across his chest, clearly unhappy with Hook. "Why? Don't you like her anymore?"

"It's complicated."

"It's not."

"You wouldn't understand—!" He protests, voice rising in anger. Seeing the boy's startled expression, he grimaces. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."

"Just . . . talk to her?" Henry asks softly. "Please?"

He wants to. He wants nothing more than to show up at her door and take her in his arms and hold her like there would be no tomorrow. He wants to kiss her, to comfort her, to tease her, to be there with her, always and forever but—

He can't.

He can't risk her.

"Go on home now, Henry." He orders gruffly.

"But Killian—"

"Please." There must be something in his voice that causes the child to relent for he simply nods his head before disappearing around the corner.

This is for the best, he tells himself.

Liar, his heart retorts.

"Mom?"

Emma hits the dough, kneading it viciously. Thank God for baking because without it, she'd probably go crazy with all the anxiety and anger mixed up within her. With each thrust of her hand into the dough, she lets out some of her tension over the upcoming battle with Zelena and with the stress of having to keep Henry in the dark and then there's the whole matter with Killian—

"Mom!" A cool hand yanks on her wrist.

"What?" She asks, slightly breathless as she meets Henry's concerned expression. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." He replies dryly. "But your pie crust is a bit worse for wear."

She glances down, sees all the pieces of dough littering the floor as well as the counter. She huffs out a laugh and tries to shoot her son an easy smile.

"Whoops." She mutters softly.

"Mom, I really don't think we need another pie anyways." Henry states quietly, pointing to the other three lined up on the counter. "Why don't you just go talk to him?"

"Because he just walks away!" She snaps before even thinking. Henry grins triumphantly, but Emma quickly shakes her head. "No. We are not having this conversation, okay?"

"What conversation?" Her son questions, too innocently.

"You know what I'm talking about." Emma mutters, tossing the pie dough into the trash.

"Oh, about Killian, you mean?" Henry continues, seemingly oblivious to his mother's very clear warnings about this subject. "Look, Mom, you just need to go see him—!"

"Henry, please stop." Emma practically growls, the frustration boiling up and consuming her. She's wanted to see him, wanted to talk to him, but whenever she got close, he would make up some excuse and leave. Did he dislike her now? Had she screwed up their relationship—what exactly was their relationship, again?—and had he finally decided he had enough?

"You really like him, don't you?" Henry comes up to her side and wraps his arms around her waist, holding her securely. She grins slightly and ruffles his hair ever so slightly.

"Yeah, kiddo." She mumbles. "I guess I do."

She loves Killian Jones.

She just doesn't know what to do with that information now.

"Emma, thank you." The blonde smiles softly, slightly embarrassed as she hands her mother yet another pie. Standing in the middle of their small house, she watches as her mother places the baked good onto her small coffee table. Snow's eyes then lock onto her daughter's and her expression grows slightly concerned. She shares a look with her husband who then nods his head.

"You're on a baking kick?" David questions, a small grin alighting on his lips. "Is there something wrong?"

"Wrong?" Emma echoes, gaze darting down to the floor.

"Because Henry tells us you've baked a lot of things today." Snow informs her.

"I like to bake." She replies frankly, almost defensively.

"Enough to practically feed the whole town?" Her father means it teasingly, but she knows they are concerned. She wants to confide in them, but it's hard for her. She's never been good at being open with her feelings, even with herself. Though she knows they will listen and they might even understand, she just can't.

"I'm fine." She assures them, fake grin in place.

She's a liar.

Zelena sees her from afar.

The precious savior, the perfect princess, beloved Emma—the one person standing in her way. Cars rumble by and people brush past her, but the wicked witch simply smirks. No one will catch her; her magic is too strong. No, it would appear that they were in a stalemate. Until Emma lost her magic or Zelena slipped, they would continue to circle each other, unable to defeat each other.

It's time to change that.

With a wave of her hand, a ruby red apple appears.

"Showtime."

And in a puff of green smoke, the witch is gone.

Author's Note: Please review if you have a moment. Next chapter will be up soon. Thanks!