Author's Note: Hello everyone! This is the first fic I've written that I've been confident enough in to actually post, so don't go too crazy on me in reviews or anything if you don't like it. As I said in the summary, I started this during the S3 winter hiatus, so I wrote the characters how I saw them then. This is after Emma and Henry's year in New York, and I guess it's a version of how I would have liked to see the series end at that point in time. This story will consist of four chapters and an epilogue, and I'll be posting new chapters at the beginning of each week. Enjoy!

"Damn her!" A dull thunk echoed through the cabin as his sword sunk into a thouroughly chipped post. It wasn't structural; Killian had installed it during what was now called The Lost Year, just so he could have something to take his frustrations out on without damaging his beloved ship.

"Damn her!" Thunk. "Damn her!" Thunk. "Damn her, damn her, damn her!" Thunk, thunk, thunk.

Life had been peaceful for nearly eight months. Enemies had been defeated, and the many kingdoms of the Enchanted Forest were well on their way to complete recovery from the hardships that had befallen them all since The Dark Curse had been cast. It was May now, and engagements, marriages, and babies seemed to be more populous than the wildflowers that were popping up absolutely enverywhere.

"Damn her!" Thud. His head hit the post with a sastisfying amount of pain.

The "her" he referred to was of course, Emma Swan.

He stepped back until he hit the wall, then slid to the floor in a sudden exhaustion. He had been hacking at the post for nearly a half hour, and his arms were aching enough to convince him that maybe it was time to stop. The physical exertion hadn't left his heart any less hurt then it had been an hour ago when he had returned to The Jolly Rodger, a half day's hard ride from Snow and David's palace.

He had been there for two months this time, and it had nearly driven him mad by the end. He couldn't count how many times he and Emma had shared moments, moments where he would strive to show her how deeply his love for her ran, moments where she would get a look in her eyes that he wished she would never lose before she threw her walls back up with startling desperation. Neither of them put much stock in True Love anymore, but burn him if he didn't know with diamond clarity that she was his. Now, if only she would let herself be.

The walls protected her, he knew. And he understood. And he worked hard to get over those walls. But it had been nearly two years, and she still backed away from him. The few times she had let her walls down while with him made him as certain as he could be that she felt the same for him, but even while her emotions seemed to pull toward him, she was still pushing him away. He was starting to lose hope. There was only so much a man could take.

Then he had seen them in the garden. Emma and Neal. Arm-in-arm, talking, smiling, laughing… it cut like a knife to see them like that. And then Neal had gotten down on one knee and pulled a box out of his pocket, and Hook hadn't even stayed to see Emma's response. She had been pushing him away all this time. Maybe he was wrong about her feelings for him. Maybe this was the reason why. He made a strangled sort of moaning cry in his head that may have leaked out his mouth, and within ten minutes was hastily saddling the horse that had been a gift from David. He hadn't even bothered to pack any food or water. He had only run up to his rooms to grab his pack and a few personal items before heading to the stables.

Just as he was mounting, the stable door creaked open.

"And where do you think you're going?" Robin asked, folding his arms and leaning in the door to the stall, blocking Killian's path.

"Get out of my way, mate."

"Not until you tell me where you're going."

"Why?"

"Because I saw Neal with a suspiciously small box a couple of hours ago and you just blew by me in the hallway without so much as a nod, looking like death."

"I feel like death."

"A-ha. Going back to the Rodger, then?"

"Yes."

"Well, thank you for telling me, at least. I'm glad you offered up the information so willingly." A small roll of his eyes was all the acknowledgement Killian gave his friend before galloping out of the stable towards the causeway.

Minutes turned to hours, and Killian was still on the floor. He could see the sun sinking to the horizon now, but the windows only provided so much of a view. So he hauled himself to his feet, grabbed the bread and water he had acquired upon reaching the port, and went up on deck to watch the golden sun disappear.

If only the spot he had planned on watching from didn't already have an occupant.