She's huddled up in the topmost corner of Henry's castle. Why there, of all places, she couldn't tell you. Here was where Storybrooke first started feeling like home, she reasons, with Henry and their walkie-talkies and his storybook. It doesn't hurt that it's by the ocean, the waves creating an even tempo to steady her breathing. Another thing she couldn't explain: everything just felt better with salt in the air and the colors of the horizon blurred in the distance. It felt right, much like the haven she was keeping on the wooden playground her son was so fond of.
A voice calls her name. It's a soft voice, her first name echoing into the water, followed by another deeper one, wreckedly hollering Swan!
That brings her back to reality. She's a menace. To herself, the town, everyone she's ever really cared about. The Snow Queen's on the loose again, there's a gaping hole in the side of the sheriff's station, her father once again lies on a hospital bed, unconscious and hooked up to god-knows how many machines.
All because of her.
"SWAN," she hears him bellow again. Shaking her head, she shuffles further into her corner. She's not naive, the castle is the only thing around, they know she's here, but hiding away can keep them safe.
The sparkly blue of Elsa's dress appears between wooden planks and Emma shrinks even further.
"Emma," she breathes a hand daintily resting over her heart. "Thank goodness, you're okay."
"Stay away," Emma croaks.
Elsa's hands come up, a calming gesture that only riles Emma up. "You won't hurt me. You don't want to. You can control your powers. I believe in you." "Go away," Emma continues. "I'm fine."
"Swan, you're far from fine," Killian quietly says. He's managed to silently crawl on the jungle gym, centuries of keeping a ship while his crew slept lending his favor. His kind eyes, blue with worry, shock her. Her hand flies up, the other curling tighter around her stomach.
"Stay there," she yells, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. The wind picks up, Emma's emotions on the edge of haywire and spiraling away for the second time that day.
Despite the elements physically moving against him, Killian steps forward cautiously.
"Killian, please," her voice cracks. Her arm is shaking between the struggle to keep him away and release the magic boiling within her.
"Talk to us, Emma," Elsa calmly says. "We can help you."
"Oh yeah," she childishly retorts. "Is that what Anna told you? Where is she now, huh? What happened to her?"
Later, Emma will feel bad about pulling the sister card on her friend, she knows. But right now, she's trying to keep them alive, conscious, away from the biggest and baddest thing in town: her.
"Emma, I know you're scared, but-"
Blonde tresses whip Emma's face. "No, they're scared, as they should be." Her hand moves from blocking Killian to accusatory pointing at the paler blonde. "I see it in your eyes. You're afraid, just like everyone else. You've gone through this, but even you're scared."
Elsa's mouth opens to defend herself, but Killian cuts her off.
"Your majesty, I think it best if you left us alone."
Elsa looks to him, his sole focus on the savior as she crashes and burns. She nods and takes a step away.
"Elsa, take him with you," Emma pleads to her. "Please, I'll be fine, just take him to safety."
"No," he reprimands her, waving Elsa away. "I'm not leaving you, love."
With a single solemn nod, Elsa turns away and heads back toward the center of town, leaving Emma to deal only with her stupid stubborn pirate.
They're silent for a while, Emma shaking her shoulders and trying to gain control of herself, Killian inching closer when he thinks she isn't paying attention.
But, she's always paying attention to him.
"She said I scare my family, that they're scared of me," she finally says through the tears, though when those had appeared, she couldn't say.
"Your parents love you, Swan," he assures her. "You know that."
"But they're afraid of me, of my magic." She brings her forehead to rest on her knees, making herself the smallest she's been and felt in years. The floor of the playground creaks, and Emma bursts. She feels the fire in her eyes when her head flicks up to match Killian's gaze, feels the wind throw the tips of her hair around, and sees the his eyes widen. "You saw my mother's face! A lamppost fell on my father because of me!" She loses momentum in a blink, her hair falling gracefully to her shoulders and her forehead falling to her knees again. Her voice breaks again and the next thing she says is almost inaudible. "It was going to fall on you."
Killian reaches her and squats down barely a foot from her feet. "Dave will be fine," he calmly comforts her. "Your mother telephoned while we searched for you. He's awake and a little disoriented, but well." His hand hesitates before crossing the space between them and resting on her elbow at her knee. "They could never fault you, nor could anything deter them from loving you." She looks up them, peeks above her crossed arms. "They are not frightened of you."
She sniffs, wipes across her cheek bone for any stray tears. "Are you?"
"Frightened of you?" She nods and he huffs out a laugh. "Bloody hell, love, of course. You scare me out of my wits."
Her temper flares, the wind kicking up again and sparks licking in the blood at the tips of her fingers.
"Killian," she begins to implore, he needs to be safe, but he forgoes any warning she might have given, his hand gripping both hers.
Everything stops immediately: the wind, the magic within her, her heart.
"Any man in their right mind would be an ass not to be afraid of you," he explains, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "You are a remarkable woman. You take charge, you have incredible strength. You're a guarded woman, yes, but you have a heart of gold capable of lightening even the blackest of hearts." Killian gives her the smallest of comforting smiles Emma can't help but return. "I'm scared of you, Emma, because you're the first person my heart has striven to beat for in centuries." he says. "Not because of your magic."
He squeezes her hand in reassurance, another gesture she fails at not returning. They don't say anything for a while, just stay there, linked by their hands and spirits that, let's face it, she thinks, are one and the same.
"I'm sorry," she break the stillness. When his brow raises in confusion, she sighs and slowly stretches out, sliding her legs between his feet and finally relaxing. "For yelling at you earlier. And, you know, putting your life in danger."
Killian laughs heartily, using his hand to haul her off the floorboards and into his arms. "I'd loathe it any other way." He kisses her forehead, then once on each cheek, eradicating any signs of tears that had fallen, before pulling back a little to look her in the eyes. "Shall we go visit your invalid father, then?"
She titters, feeling herself get back to her version of normal. "Don't let him hear you call him that, he'll kill you."
"He'd do nothing of the sort," he gloats over the groans of the old wood and the hush of water over sand. "I mean too much to his precious daughter."
