He sees the fear, the insecurity written deeply into the green of her eyes, wide as a doe. He knows something is not quite right, something is nagging at the back of her mind… he ignores it in the relief of finding her well after searching the entire damned town over at least three times. Searching tirelessly for her despite her very clear wish that she does not care to be found. That she needs to be left alone.

"Darling," he steps closer cautiously, slowly, giving her time to tell him to back off. She does not, but something dark and fearful settles into her eyes when she registers it is him.

"You aren't safe around me," her reply is soft and broken and settles heavy in his heart. When steps closer to her still, he can make out bright tears highlighting the gold within her eyes. "Killian, no one I love is safe around me. I am the biggest threat in this town right now, can't you see that?"

"No," his voice quivers, "Emma, you are not a bloody threat. Whatever the wretched Snow Queen told you, it was to incite this reaction. It was to plant doubt within you. You are still the same as you were. You are in control."

She is cowering back from him, shrinking against the bars of the cell and it makes his heart thud painfully hard into his chest— practically reaching out for her. He knows it isn't he who scares her but it feels like it nonetheless.

"Nothing about me is in control," she tells him sharply, motioning her head about them, and it is only then that he sees the absolute disarray of the station. Chairs shattered, papers littered about, desks on their side… "This magic… it's a curse. As long as I have it, no one is safe from me, Killian. No one."

"Don't say that," he mutters, shaking his head and stepping closer still. He is nearly to her now and her eyes are trained aptly, fearfully upon him, fingers tangled and white-knuckled against the cell bars.

"Killian…" she protests weakly.

"You are fine, love," he says, and stops with a mere hairs-width between them, reaching his hand ever so cautiously to run his fingers against the apple of her cheek where a tear has escaped. "You haven't hurt me."

"Why are you doing this?" she whispers, moist eyes focused steadily on his own.

"Your magic is a piece of the woman I love, Emma," he is still gentle, coaxing, running his fingers down her jawline. "It is a part of who you are and it always will be. 'S not a curse if you don't allow it to be."

He is relieved, so relieved that she allows him to come close and allows him to touch her that nothing else bothers to bloody occur to him. He doesn't pick up on the small things, like the way her fingers twitch and her lips are white, accounting it only to the nature of the encompassing fear of her magic.

She stares at him.

Then she kisses him. Suddenly, fiercely. Twisting her fingers roughly through his hair and dragging him nearer to her and the bars of the cell. She takes him by surprise but he is not to be outdone, kissing her back with equal fervor, relishing the feel of her fingers tracing down his arms until…

CLICK

She pulls back suddenly, tears pooling in her eyes and dripping down her cheeks, nose just brushing his as she ducks them away from his view. The cool metal of the cuff settles around his wrist and the pieces all come flooding together at once, crashing angrily upon him and his heart stops beating.

"Emma," he says her name gently, carefully, desperate not to send her running. "Darling, what are you doing?"

She chews angrily at her bottom lip, blinking hard to stop the tears but it does not work and he knows what it is. Knows what she plans on doing.

It has taken too long to track her down, to decipher her next move, when it ought to have been only moments. Her fear, her motivation to protect her family—that is her drive and he knows her well enough to know that his words are useless against her stubborn will.

He has to try anyway.

"Love, you can't," his voice is rougher now, more frantic and she is still close, just close enough for him to slip his hook around her wrist as she stumbles weakly back away from him.

"I'm sorry, Killian… I can't…"

Her arm hangs weakly in his grasp as she makes no move to pull back for the slightest moment.

"It'll kill you, Emma, the hat will bloody kill you," he tells her feebly, a final attempt at reasoning before she drags her hand back to her side. "Emma, look at me!"

"I'm so sorry."

Tears burn hot into his eyes, choking lump rising in his throat as she watches her feet through her own, before forcing her gaze shakily upon him, stepping away in a halfhearted retreat. He pulls madly at his cuffs until the pain chafing at his wrist is near unbearable but it is his Swan and she is more a bloody pirate than he and she is more than capable of keeping a man occupied by a cuff for however long she requires. It is the first time in his life he hates it. He is bloody useless and this is on him.

"Don't do this!" his voice is frantic against the scraping of the cuff on the bar, burning tears freeing and creeping down his face and he couldn't care less because he is about to bloody lose her.

He has lied to her for far too long, kept too much from her and now it is all crashing down accordingly.

And he should've bloody known.

She is at the door, blonde curls cascading down her back, entire body shaking visibly. He thinks he might be sick in a moment, his stomach aches with such intensity. He thinks of holding the apprentice back until he no longer had to… quickly replacing Emma before the wretched thing, her body slowly evaporating into molecules and then to nothing.

Nothing.

"Emma!"

The blasted bell above the door lets out a cheery ring. And then she is gone.