It's You

The room is quiet, unusually quiet for the Charmings' loft that's normally always buzzing with some sort of activity. But Killian and Emma, sitting on the small sofa in front of the window, are both lost in their own respective thoughts. Hers are with August who is still recovering from the ordeal he went through while he was in the hands of Gold and his three newest villainous allies, and she's too wrapped up in them to notice that Killian gets more and more broody by the minute, clouds brewing and a storm in in his eyes.

"How was he?" his voice finally interrupts her own musings, and she's completely unfocused for a moment and frowns, throwing him a questioning glance. "The wooden man child," he explains and repeats, "How was he?"

Her gaze drifts away for a moment, and she shakes her head once before replying soberly, "Not great."

It's the truth, August hasn't been great, he's failed her in many ways, many times. But in the end, he did redeem himself, so, like everyone else, he deserved his second chance. And, even if he hasn't done right by her when she needed it the most, he still has been some sort of consistency in her life – of course, she was never aware of it, hence the not great notion.

Killian isn't really sure what to make of her answer. Part of him is relieved that the man turned boy turned man again obviously hasn't been some knight in shining armor in his Swan's life, but it's equally obvious that, regardless, she at least feels some sort of special connection to him.

He hates himself for the sudden insecurity creeping up in him. "You care for him." It's a statement, not a question.

"Yeah," she confirms.

"Hm," is his reply, just a little huff, paired with a strained smile that goes into the void, as he's still not looking at her.

And suddenly, Emma understands what this is all about. "Oh, Killian," she sighs and shifts nearer to him, searching his gaze, but not finding it. "Now's not the time to be jealous."

He looks at her, but only briefly, before he shakes his head with a negating smile, his whole posture weirdly stiff and somehow defensive, not his usual, what-is-personal-space self at all. "Why would I be jealous?" he asks with a fake nonchalance that secretly amuses her, because yes, of course it boosts her inner Lost Girl's self confidence to see this handsome, usually so cocky pirate get jealous over freaking Pinocchio. She touches his shoulder in a way she hopes is reassuring, but he doesn't even seem to notice. Tilting his head, he adds, like it's an afterthought, "Though I do know you're partial to men in leather jackets."

She rubs her thumb over his leather-clad shoulder in a caress and replies lightly, "Yeah, well, they do have their appeal."

His only answer is a short grumble, as he's too wrapped up in his tumbling thoughts for a quick-witted reply. As far as he knows, and he doesn't know really much about this particular part of her life, Emma must have some special connection to that – admittedly handsome – man since her childhood, and she is obviously worried about him. Killian also heard that he almost died when he tried to warn her and her parents about Bae's fake fiancée, so he was surely closer to being a hero than he himself had ever been, even if Emma keeps telling him that he has a mark in the hero column, that he isn't a villain anymore. He knows better. He's not a villain, but he's not a hero either. He's not even sure of what he is, or where he fits in. Or if he's even good enough for someone like her, someone so utterly good and selfless, the Savior.

He draws a deep breath, and Emma notices that he seems to be genuinely worried. At first, it surprises her a bit, because really, he should know better; but then she remembers them – his ever-present self-doubts, his underlying feeling of worthlessness, mostly bleeding through only in tiny gestures or remarks that nobody else notices, but often enough bluntly stated, like his fear of losing his happy ending, simply because he doesn't deserve having one. She realizes that she's not the only one having issues to deal with; he has them just the same, they're just of a different kind. While hers will always and forever be the little Lost Girl with her fear of abandonment, his is the life he's led, the things he's done; things she knows he isn't ready yet to forgive himself, things he's afraid he can never be free of.

"Killian," she says softly, searching his gaze. "Really. When it comes to leather and scruff, no one could ever hold a candle to you." Again, she speaks in a light tone, hoping he catches the seriousness behind it, the true meaning of her words

Apparently though, what he catches is the opportunity to put his cocky mask back in place – his very own version of her wall. "Oh, I know," he replies nonchalantly and tilts his head, still avoiding her gaze. "That's always been my forte."

"For sure," she agrees, "but you do know that's not the real reason, right?"

She seems to have caught his attention now, because he looks at her curiously. "And what is?" he wants to know.

"Your good heart," she answers immediately, ignoring the embarrassed, uncomfortable expression he always gets when someone pays him a compliment. Because he never thinks he's worth it. "Look, August..." she continues, "he was sent over from the Enchanted Forest through that wardrobe with me, to look after me and help me find my destination, accept my fate when the time was right."

He nods. "To break the curse."

"Yes, to break the curse," she confirms. "But he... well, only shortly after we'd traveled to this world, he ran off with a few of the older boys of the orphanage we'd been put in. He..." she draws a deep breath, because even now, the thought hurts. "He abandoned me," she finally says. Because yes, at the end of the day, that's what he did – not counting her parents, August was the first person of many to abandon her.

Killian scratches behind his ear. "But he must have been a child, too," he replies thoughtfully, always willing to give others credit while always being way too hard on himself.

"He was seven," Emma nods and shrugs. "I know, way too much responsibility for a little boy ripped from his father and his home and his world." Killian tilts his head in agreement, still not looking at her, and she continues, "But later... When he was older, he said he always tried to... watch over me, and I guess he sort of did." Finally, he's fixing his eyes on hers now. She sighs. "But it wasn't..." She lets her voice trail off, not really sure what to say, because it's hard to put in words.

She doesn't really blame August for what he did, for what he thought he had to do, in order not to derail her from the mission she was completely unaware of. But then again... She draws a deep breath. "When I was a kid about Henry's age," she goes on, trying her best to keep her voice firm and steady, "I was living in the streets. I was hungry, and I was cold." The memory hurts, and it soothes a bit what she sees in his eyes: not compassion, but understanding. She doesn't know much about his beginnings yet, but instinctively she understands that he must have learned the hard way, too, that watching out for yourself meant that no one could abandon you and hurt you.

"And I was alone, for all my life," she finishes, expressing the most painful part of it all – not the hunger, not the cold or the poverty, the lack of a comfortable bed of her own. No, the profound loneliness, the knowledge that there was no one – not a single living soul – to whom she mattered. Or ever would.

She snorts. "Not the greatest way to watch over someone, huh?"

Once more, as so many times since he's met her, Killian feels the connection to Emma, marveling at what kindred of spirits they really are; it's not like he's a stranger to the feeling of being alone, to the stench of abandonment and betrayal. Involuntarily, he thinks back to his own childhood, stolen from him by his own father, just like Emma's was stolen, ultimately, by Regina. But at least he was blessed enough to always have Liam to watch over him, to procure that extra slice of bread, to work double so he didn't have to endure the labor that was to heavy for him... and to take the whip for him whenever it was possible. He swallows and shakes his head slightly to clear off those unpleasant thoughts from his mind, burying them deep at the bottom. "Well," he says slowly (and a little lamely, to be honest, because he's not really that convinced), "I'm sure he did what he could."

She shakes her head, obviously not believing it herself. "Yeah, well, but my point is... you are different." He frowns in question, and Emma speaks in a serious voice now, holding his gaze with her own, to make sure he doesn't look away, to make sure he doesn't miss anything of what she has to say, because he obviously needs – and definitely deserves – to hear it.

"From the very beginning," she goes on, "you were there for me and had my back." In reaction to that, he sways his head doubtfully and looks away, uncomfortable at her compliment, as usual. "Okay, most times," she corrects herself, and he tilts his head in hesitant agreement. "You always kept your promises," she continues firmly, "You never abandoned me, even when I did my best to push you away." At that point, he brings up his hand to scratch behind his ear and squirms a little.

Emma's hand slides from his leather-clad shoulder to his neck, her thumb resting against the bare skin right above the collar of his shirt. "But ultimately," she says almost solemnly, "even that is not the reason why you don't need to be jealous of August, or anyone."

Killian has no idea of what she's aiming at, so he just sits still, looks at her and waits, his recently restored heart beating rapidly in his chest. "It's not because of who he is," she finally explains and adds, "It's because of who he isn't." Her thumb starts to softly stroke his neck, her touch soothing – loving. She smiles.

"He's not the man I–" she begins, but then abruptly stops herself mid-sentence and blinks, maybe surprised by her own audacity, surely scared by it. She licks her lips and, after quickly scanning the room as if she could find a way out of her current dilemma, looks at him, still searching for words.

Killian holds his breath, not even daring to blink, sure he must be dreaming. He wants to give her an encouraging nod or some sign that whatever she is going to say, it's alright. But then he decides against it. If she needs encouragement, that means she isn't there yet, and he has to – and is determined to – respect that.

She draws a deep breath. "He's not the man I want to be with," she finishes and looks at him carefully, almost apologetically, her lips briefly twitching into an insecure little smile while she hopes what she offers right now is enough for him.

He feels only the slightest pang of disappointment at her choice of words, only for a second, and then it's gone, replaced by warmth and joy. Because he does know what she was really saying, even if she chose different words than the ones he longed to hear. His heart soars, the love welling up inside him almost choking him, and at the same time he's afraid he's dreaming. Only a day ago, he has told her that he sees her as his happy ending, and she hasn't shied away from that, and now she's telling him, actually saying it out loud, that she wants to be with him, that he... Well, technically she hasn't said it, but it was heavily implied, wasn't it? He swallows nervously, thickly, while she's still scrutinizing him nervously, waiting for him to react somehow to her almost-confession.

Gods, he needs to hear it for real. Can he dare...? He tilts his head. "And that man...?"

And now, she finally smiles her dazzling smile, happy and carefree, even if it's just for one fleeting moment, before they'll have to deal with the current magical crisis again.

"Don't you know, Killian? It's you."