It was nights like these, when a cool breeze blew through the window and he could practically feel the gentle sway beneath him that had always lulled him to sleep, that he missed his ship the most. Even after all these years he still remembered the first time he had joined Liam (his dear, stubborn brother…) on one of his adventures, when he had lain awake until he could barely keep his eyes open anymore because the rocking beneath him when he closed his eyes felt so unfamiliar and unnatural. It had taken him quite some time to get used to it, until he had finally managed to get a few hours of relaxing sleep, and the irony made his lips curl in a sad smile because never before had he been as restless as he was right now.

Without his brother to keep him company. Without a warm body to wrap into his arms. Without the sea. Without his home.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he turned towards the alarm clock, as the she-wolf had called it, when she had shown him to his room.

2:14am.

He sighed. Another sleepless night ahead of him and nothing but his lonely thoughts to keep him company.

It was nights like these when he craved to hear her beautiful voice so much that he could hardly breathe.

She lied in her bed; eyes wide open staring at the white ceiling of her room. She could hear her parents' soft voices trying to soothe her little brother to sleep; David's hushed tones and Mary Margaret's sweet lullaby. She closed her eyes to no avail.

Emma was used to these sleepless nights. She had many of them when she was a foster kid that no one wanted, when she craved someone to talk to, to make her nightmares vanish, someone to care about her.

She stopped dreaming of that faceless person when she got into jail, all her dreams crushed into a million pieces. She remembered talking to the little baby growing inside of her, apologizing to it for the life she could never give it. It never helped her sleep, though she still did, till her tears dried out and her body couldn't take the exhaustion anymore.

She stopped talking at all when she lost her little boy, missing the baby she couldn't even hold so dearly she could feel her heart squeeze. Not knowing where he was, if he was okay, if he had someone to talk to him when he couldn't sleep. She didn't dare to imagine him by her side, holding her index finger in his tiny hand, babbling nonsense.

She looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

2:23am.

Oh how she wanted him to be there with her now, talking in that ridiculous accent of his that even imagining of made her smile, crave.

It was only a few days later that he was sure she had noticed some kind of change in his demeanor (and looks, even though he still considered himself rather dashing, thank you very much) and he'd be lying if he said he was surprised. Even he had noticed the dark circles beneath his kohl-rimmed eyes when he had given himself the obligatory once-over in the mirror before he had left his room in the mornings, so of course it wouldn't escape her. She was a perceptive lass, his Swan.

Killian was sure he had just missed something she said when she gave him an expectant look over the rim of her mug. He had to resist the urge to punch himself because it was bad form not listening to your lady when she spoke, but he couldn't help how tired and downright exhausted he was.

"Apologies, love. Come again, please?" His tight-lipped smile couldn't fool her in a hundred years and he knew it. He was an open book to her as much as she was to him.

"Okay, what's wrong with you?" She squinted at him, studying his features closely, her eyes boring into his as if she was trying to read his mind.

"I just had difficulties falling asleep, that's all."

And he wanted to tell her so badly how much he craved her presence in those lonely hours at night when sleep wouldn't come, how much he longed to hear her voice. Gods, did he want to, but-

Be patient.

She wanted to take things slowly and he hadn't lied when he had told her that he had all the time in the world; a promise that he would wait for her. Always had, always will.

"This wasn't the first time you couldn't sleep, was it." It wasn't a question and his heart clenched when he saw concern and something else (understanding?) written all over her delicate features. Not knowing how to respond without pushing her, he lowered his eyes to his mug of hot cocoa (with cinnamon, the damned woman had made him try it and now he was addicted), his fingers tracing the handle with a smile that never quite reached his eyes.

Just as she opened her mouth again, a crackling sound emerged from the device on her hip.

"Emma, I need you at the station."

She gave him an apologetic look and got up from their booth. A surprised gasp got stuck in his throat when she gently cupped his cheek in her hand and bent down to brush her lips against his, whispering, "We're not done," before she rushed out of the diner.

She stared at the cellphone on the table, her hand itching to grab it. She tried to reason with herself, saying that it wasn't appropriate to call someone at such a late hour, he was probably asleep – oh but he wasn't and she knew it all so well. She tried to make any excuse not to call him, but as usual – a fruitless effort really.

She remembered that time when she purchased that phone for him, (nothing fancy but it would do the job) remembered the confused expression on his face when she first gave it to him, how he looked so lost staring at the small buttons on it as she explained its functions. She remembered the aching in her chest as she realized that it was probably the first present he's received in centuries, if his face full of gratitude was any indication. She'd brushed it off back then, didn't have the courage to think about what she meant to him nor what he meant to her. She'd already had a Wicked Witch on her plate, no room for feelings.

Things had changed since then. She was more open but even more afraid now. She had almost died a couple days ago – oh God she almost died and he'd looked so devastated she didn't know what to do. The idea of not seeing him again terrified her more than anything, that she hadn't even cherished these small moments she had been told several times to appreciate and keep close to her heart. She wasn't done yet and she almost died. (And a couple days later he almost died too.)

Emma grabbed her phone quickly, her muscles moving even before she realized it. Her heart skipped a beat as her hand touched the screen to call him. She wasn't surprised when he answered right away. She entertained the idea that maybe he was thinking of calling her as well without knowing how true that was.

"Hey."

"Hello, love. Is everything alright? Is it the Snow Queen? Do you need my help?" said Killian with a distressed voice. Emma couldn't help but smile to herself. That was her pirate, always ready for a fight, always there to help her no matter what.

"No, it's not that." She waited a bit, still not sure if she was ready to voice what she felt, what she needed. But at that moment she just didn't care. They had missed a lot by now anyway. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"About anything in particular, Swan?"

She could hear the flirty tone of his voice easily; could imagine the little smile on his face.

"No, I just couldn't sleep."

That night, for the first time in forever, she fell asleep without any worries on her mind, to the quiet snores of Killian, with a smile on her lips.

It quickly became a habit of theirs. One of them would call the other at night, just to talk, to hear each other's voices, breathing, like they hadn't been together just a couple hours ago. For the first time in her life Emma didn't have to create an imaginary voice in her head to erase her troubles and lull her to sleep and for the first time in centuries Killian could get a good night's sleep without aching for the people he lost.

And when Emma got the phone bill at the end of the month, she couldn't even bring herself to regret it.