The first time he sees her, he forgets how to breathe. His eyes flutter awake to a woman dressed in red leather, a woman whose eyes are guarded and bright. Her blonde locks fall in her face as she looks him over and he can't help but stare. She's beautiful. For a second he forgets that he's on a mission against her, that he's just a pirate and she'll never go for a guy like him, the man with scars that go deeper than the earth's crust, the man with secrets crawling under his skin. For a moment he sees a life with her flash before his eyes before it's gone in a blink, his mission setting in around him once more. That is, until he hears her name. Emma Swan.

Swan. Her name gets under his skin immediately and causes his heart to fluctuate. He tells himself that she's just a woman, that she'll go away soon enough and that he'll go back to his pirate ways, but that resolve falters over a joint trip up a beanstalk filled with his many questions and her little answers. Swan. The name pokes at his brain and he tries to push it away like it's not causing his hands to shake, tries to brush it off with one-liner jokes and innuendos. But if that name doesn't matter, if she doesn't matter, then why is he asking her if she's ever been in love? If she is nothing, why does his heart soar when she says no?

Swan. Hours after she's left him behind in a giant's castle and has made it clear that she doesn't trust him, he still can't shake her from his head. All he can do is laugh at his situation and recall the woman with the hazel eyes, the girl who wrestled her way into his life. Swan. The name resonates way after he's been released, staying in his mind for days after her departure. Swan. All he can think about is how he's going to win her over, how she will one day trust him. Swan. The name haunts him. Swan. She is the only thing he dreams of anymore. Swan. Swan. Swan.

Swan. He'll find her and win her over, even if it's the last thing he'll ever do.

The first time he kisses her time stops, and it's not because they're in Neverland. He never expected his jibes and teasing to get him anywhere, his flirting to break through the Swan's tough exterior, but one minute he's making jokes about owed kisses and the next fire is exploding through his veins and everything is alive around him. She leans into his space and returns his gesture with gasping breaths and grabbing hands, and for a moment he has to remind himself that this is real, this is happening. Emma Swan is breathing his air; Emma Swan's lips are on his; Emma Swan is kissing him, something he only imagined in locked away fantasies. Everything is Swan and everything is tangible; everything is blazing.

But when it stops, it's like the world falls away with the waning passion. He looks into those familiar hazel eyes and hates what he sees there. He finds regret instead of resilience, hurt instead of happiness. Where did he go wrong?

He puts a finger to his lips as she walks away, his head ringing with a thousand explosions.

The days pass and she pushes him away once more. It's like this kiss, their shared space, their passion never existed, that it was only another of his dreams. He tries to bring it up, tries to rekindle the fire that roared through his being. Is it possible that she doesn't feel the same way?

He looks on as she flits around with another man, one whom she has history and chemistry with. He tries to ignore the jealousy that builds in his veins as he watches her vie for the other man's affections, tries to wash away the feelings he has for the Swan. He tries to drink, flirt, and wash away the pain, but it still aches like a new wound to his skin.

Time, he decides. He just has to give her time.

If only time were something they had.

The first time he loses her it's like a piece of him is being ripped away. A wall of purple ash races towards them and their time together is slipping through the hourglass at an alarming rate, the sand minutes away from reaching the bottom. He wants to take her away, to run, to sprint through a thousand different lands just so they can be together, but this is bigger than the both of them combined. The one time he truly wants to be selfish is the one time he can't afford to, the one time when being selfish will bring ruin to the woman he loves.

So he stands by and tries to look nonchalant, watching as Swan hugs and kisses her family goodbye forever, tears running down everyone's faces. He supposes he should be crying too with the rest of them but instead only feels a stony iciness in his heart. She goes from family members to friends, words passing in the tension filled space like a secret prayer, everyone getting their last remarks in before the inevitable happens and they are all separated once more.

He thinks he's ready to let her go, that is, until she turns his gaze on him and he automatically falls apart. A thousand different memories fly through his head. Beanstalks and giant's towers, ships and fantasy lands, kisses and punches, confessions and innuendos. It all comes crashing back when he gazes into those crystal clear hazel eyes, and he can tell she sees it too. He doesn't even think through what he's about to say, instead deciding to just spit the truth out into the air. It's not like she'll remember it anyway, he thinks to himself, so he gets out the words as fast as he can.

There's not a day that will go by that I won't think of you.

The next thing he knows that too familiar yellow car is driving away into a new past, a new present, a new future.

When he thinks no one is looking, he finally lets himself cry.

The first time he finds her, it's like looking into the sun.

A year, that's how long he suffered without the love of his life, how long he went thinking that he would never see that quirky smile again, would never hold her body against his own again, but now she's here and he can reach towards her and touch her, can truly believe that she's real and not a dream in his head. However something is off; her eyes don't light up like he thought they would and that smile he loves isn't gracing her face.

Swan, he says, but she just glares at him like he's a total stranger. It takes a few seconds for the reality to crash in, for him to remember the 'lost' year in the Enchanted Forest, the one that only he can remember, and the curse that wiped away any presence of him on this earth. She's looking at him like a stranger because he is a stranger to her, and that is enough for his good mood to shatter.

His mind races with a solution, his foot in the door being the only thing preventing her from slamming it in his face. He's trying to think on his feet, trying to look back on his long, long life, but comes up with nothing to break this fantasy world Emma thinks she's been living in. It's hopeless, it's hapless, it's impossible.

Unless...it isn't.

He leans forward and lunges into her space, his mind not thinking first. Familiar lips hit his and for a second he believes that this is it, their true love can push past this haze on her mind. The past year flies away when he thinks he feels her kiss back, her hands reaching up onto his face like they did back in that godforsaken Neverland.

But then he's being shoved away and her face looks frightened, guarded. Threats are spewing out of her mouth and it takes him off guard, something he thought he'd be immune to by now but obviously is not. She's yelling and he's retreating, and the next thing he knows a wooden door is in front of his face once more, the space between them feeling more like an oceans length than a few footsteps.

His heart sinks. He's never been more certain of anything in his life than his love for Emma Swan, so why did that kiss not work? Where was the true love lacking, where did the spark die out? He doesn't allow himself to think of the truth, refuses to acknowledge that Emma's heart is not his, at least not yet.

All it does it fill him with new determination, a new reason to catch this Swan.

The first time she admits to her broken heart it's a frigid winter day, but it feels like summer with the warmth the woman radiates. She's like a supernova, a sun that is burning at a million degrees, a woman who's light melts anyone that is in it's path. She's powerful, magical, brilliant, amazing, everything he's ever wanted.

But even though she's the sun to him, he doubts he's the same to her. All of his vying, all of his flirting, all of his outpouring of love seems to fall at the Swan's feet, the woman making no motion to pick up his fallen affections. Once again he feels his heart crack, little bits of himself slowly breaking apart with every little rejection. He bitterly wonders why he gave up his pirate life for this woman, why he's chasing after someone who is so hesitant to return the feeling back. But then she speaks and her voice fills his ears like a symphony, and all doubts fade from his mind. Of course he's chasing after this woman; is there really any other option?

She talks of a man who wasn't really a man, a man whom she loved. His blood boils with bitter jealousy below the surface of his skin when she voices the name. Walsh. The only thing keeping him together is the fact that this man turned out to be a flying monkey. It almost makes him laugh, but he sees the pain on her face and automatically turns sober. She speaks of a year full of dinners and flings, chaste kisses and video game competitions with this man. With a grimace on her face she admits that she loved him, planned on marrying him. The fact that her heart went to a man who was only using her as a pawn makes his skin crawl. The idea of her kissing this Walsh, her giving away love to this creature, brings chills up his spine. The fact that if he hadn't shown up with the potion to bring her memories back, if he had left her alone to live out her life like planned, sickens him. He can't even bring himself to think of the horrors Zelena would have poured on the Swan if she didn't regain her past.

The Swan admits to a broken heart, one that is still not filled and fixed. It perks his interest and makes him want to pour all of his love into this woman, makes him want to patch her up with kisses and warm embraces. It makes him want to save her, even though he knows she's not the type of person who needs saving. All of these thoughts run through his head, but he only voices one, the thought that will hopefully bring hope to the broken Swan standing before him.

If it can be broken, it means it still works.

The first time he dances with her they're in a distant and faraway land where anything is possible. He promised himself that one day he would stop chasing this woman, but today is apparently not that day. One minute he's in an abandoned barn and the next he's here in borrowed clothes with a beautiful Swan on his arm dressed in crimson. Funny how she does not see the princess in herself while that is all he sees, a royal woman who should not be hanging around with dashing, rapscallion pirates; funny how all she sees is an orphaned savior while he sees a queen in the making, a woman who is going to be entombed in history.

The music soars through the air and then they're dancing hand in hook, a thousand year old tradition coming back to his head like muscle memory, his feet falling into the familiar steps like it's only been days since he first learned this dance rather than years. He thinks the Swan will stumble under his lead, but instead she glides along like she's skating on ice, the balls of her feet barely touching the ground between steps. She's made for this, designed for royal balls and red dresses, castles and banquets. She is a princess, whether she believes it or not. She's his princess.

The music ends too soon for his taste and then the Swan is out of his arms once more, the space she leaves behind hollow and cold. He doesn't feel whole without her in his embrace.

Funny how one person can leave such an impression on a body.

The first, and hopefully last, time he wins her over they're sitting outside of Granny's, the night crisp and alive like electricity around them. Their victory is completely fresh, the child saved and history back on track. A certain envy-filled witch is gone and his Swan is happy, all grins and giggles as she leans into his space, flirtatious gestures burning in the air. Suddenly he's sucked back into a different time, a different place, a history that didn't happen, not really. Images of his Swan trying to seduce a past version of himself fly into his memory, the embraces and kisses she used to distract the bastard very vivid in his head. Then he gets transported to a tower, a moment he never thought would come. The Swan flies into his arms for protection, shelter, for the feeling of home. She's lost her mother and he's the one she turns to, not her father or her friend. Him, she chooses him. He knows he's being selfish right then, that he should be mourning the loss of a truly great hero and sometimes friend, but all he can focus on is the Swan in his arms. Then finally his mind comes back to the present and the Swan is incredibly close, her smile brightening up the dark night around them.

She's everywhere at once, and the next thing he knows she's asking him a question, of course about the one thing he never revealed to her.

How did you do it? How did you get to me?

He grins to himself before he answers, looking down at his lap nervously. It's like he knows this is it, the one thing that will finally win over the Swan's heart. At least he hopes so, hopes that his one act of sacrifice is not in vain.

He explains in a rush, a speech of outrunning curses and magical beans falling from his lips. And when she asks the burning question, the one that will reveal his true unsaid feelings, he looks up with confidence and answers with a smile, telling her that he gave up his home so she could have hers.

Her answering grin is enough to make his heart soar.

You traded your ship for me?

...Aye .

Her returning gesture knocks him out of his seat and sets the night ablaze, an inferno now burning bright around them. The Swan lunges forward and the next thing he knows the two of them are in a gloriously alive embrace, her lips pressing against his with a new urgency, almost like they're making up for lost time. Everything is her, everything is brilliant, everything is the way it's supposed to be at last.

He doesn't know how long he kisses the Swan, but when they finally break apart and she suggests that they make their way back into Granny's, he feels whole for the first time in his life. All of the thoughts about the Jolly Roger fade from his mind the minute she links their fingers together and pecks a chaste kiss on his cheek, dragging the two of them back into the familiar diner. He realizes quickly that he doesn't miss his ship, not really. He has a new life now with one brilliantly enrapturing woman, a better one.

She is his Swan, his Emma. She is his home.

And that is all he truly needs.