A/N: Hey guys! I'm getting into a CaptainSwan fanwriting mode of non-novel length things. So at the moment, this is a planned AU three-shot. I'm not used to writing semi-short things, but here's hoping! Please let me know what you think. =]

Title: Storm - Lifehouse.

Enjoy! xx

How Long Have I Been in this Storm?

So overwhelmed by the ocean's shapeless form.

Killian Jones was not one to be patient. In fact, he prided himself on taking whatever he wanted whenever he needed it. He did it with women, money, cars.

So sitting in the Rabbit Hole. A glass of rum in his hand, wasn't exactly his idea of an ideal night. Then again, there hadn't been many a night lately that had been ideal.

According to his best mate Dave, currently serving drinks down the other end of the bar, he'd been wallowing for a year now. Which seemed about right, and Killian couldn't find it in him to care. In his twenty-five years, he'd thought there was only one woman he could care this much that he would be drinking himself into oblivion for her.

And God, she was hurting him a whole lot more than he was letting on to anyone.

But that didn't stop Dave from delivering him a continuous supply of alcohol to dull what he could obviously see. And that, quite frankly, was exactly what he needed.

"You alright there, mate?" David asked, coming over as the area cleared for the time being.

"Perfect," Killian answered drily. "Any of them single?" He inclined his head to the group of girls down the bar.

"Waiting for their boyfriends," David answered. Killian wasn't sure if he was telling the truth, but he wasn't too bothered. He knew that David thought him sleeping through half of Brooklyn probably wasn't the best idea for his mental and emotional health, and normally he'd fight him on it.

But he was over it all. He hadn't fought Dave on it in over two weeks. It was probably the longest he'd ever gone without sex. Alcohol was enough of a distraction.

It was nearing two o'clock by the time Killian managed to hall his inebriated self out of the bar and down the road to his apartment as it began to rain.

Muttering under his breath, the man almost didn't realize he was about to run into someone.

Climbing out of her yellow bug, Emma Swan was putting up her red umbrella and heading towards the steps. All of which Killian completely missed until she yelled out, "Watch it!"

She kept moving, entering the building and heading straight for the elevator into which Killian promptly followed her. After all, they were neighbours, if slightly estranged ones.

"Jones," Emma said with a sigh, eyeing him warily but acknowledging his presence as he stepped in and hit their floor. It was a step up from last week for her to even glance in his direction, let alone say his name.

"Swan," he answered.

"Alone tonight?"

"Are you offering?"

Emma gave him a once over, finding herself surprised that he could still manage to throw those lines out when he was so heavily intoxicated that he was literally swaying on his feet. She rolled her eyes, "Another notch on your headboard? Or should I say, dent in your wall."

"Come now, Swan," he said, taking a step closer to her within the elevator and invading her personal space. Emma found herself compelled to stand her ground and not back away from him. After all, she could probably poke him with her finger and he'd topple backwards. The alcohol coming off his breath was warm despite the rain outside and coldness of their clothing. She was surprised that he could retain such warmth when a shiver went down her spine at his next words.

"Admit it. You wish it's you in my bed every time you hear me fucking them. The walls are thin, darling. And you aren't quiet."

"Neither are you," Emma spat, thankful to every deity there was that the elevator chose that moment to open and she could spring out, closely followed by the drunk man himself. He seemed to be tailing her in an effort to walk straight. Emma was struggling to keep her fury and embarrassment inside of her.

"Last chance, love," Killian called as he fumbled with his keys at his door. Emma groaned as she pushed open her door.

"Go to hell, Jones."

He nodded, sighed, walked into his apartment and promptly collapsed into oblivion upon his bed.

A Year Ago

"I'll see you on the other side, baby," Milah's voice came through the phone. "I know you'll nail it."

"Is that a promise, love?"

"I'll see you when you get home."

She hung up and Killian Jones looked up at the mansion in front of him. She was asking a lot, and some small part of him might have known that. But he was blinded by his feelings, and so he took in a deep breath and climbed through the gate carefully, preparing to search for Milah's priceless diamond necklace.

Her ex-husband had kept it. And according to Milah's security diagrams, he was pretty uptight about not letting her have it. But with all those barriers in mind, Killian was confident he wouldn't get caught.

So confident that he missed a single camera.

And he was done for.

xxx

"Come on, Milah," Killian was groaning as he held the phone up to his ear, tapping impatiently on the wall. "Pick up the goddamn phone."

But it rang out for the third time. And the officer next to him was simply eyeing him apprehensively.

"One more?" Killian pleaded. And resignedly, the old man agreed. Dialing a number he knew off by heart, he only had to wait for it to ring twice before a sleepy voice picked up on the other side.

"What the fuck are you ringing for?" She still managed to sound angry even in sleep.

"Swan, I'm at the station. I need you to bail me out."

He heard a few mumbled expletives and what sounded like a body falling out of bed. She spoke a few unintelligible sentences that he caught snatches of.

"…fucking laces…throw me those…yeah…definitely ring you…" The door slammed.

It wasn't until she was opening her car door that she realized she hadn't hung up the phone.

"I'm on my way," she said finally and emotionlessly.

"You didn't have to kick that guy out because of me."

"Who says it was a guy?"

And as she hung up, Killian felt a smile tugging at his lips. He hadn't seen that teasing side of Emma in a long time. But then his face fell. Why had he had to call her at all?

Why hadn't Milah answered?

Well, he didn't hear from her ever again.

Just an obituary in the paper one week later.

Present Day

Three years ago, Killian Jones had been an okay guy. Finishing up his arts degree, planning on going and doing a masters. They'd been friends. Close friends. Closer than most best friends were.

And then she came along.

Emma had never liked her. Milah Gold was a woman of many talents, but being likeable was definitely not one of them. Which was why she'd been so surprised when Killian had latched onto her like a lost puppy. Where once, Emma would have spent her evenings on his couch doing assignments, suddenly she felt sick even considering it. Every word coming out of his mouth was about Milah. What she loved and hated. Where they went on their dates, where they planned to go in the future – he was worse than a teenage girl.

And so, after gradually spending more and more time in her own apartment, she felt him slipping away from her. And she didn't need to see him to know that he was changing.

Whilst in those first days he'd been so excited and filled with hope, he became more seriously in love with her. And Emma knew it was love. He wouldn't have done a lot of those things if he hadn't loved her. She knew. She'd felt it herself with Neal.

So the first time he got off on a warning.

The second, Milah bailed him out.

And the third, she wasn't there.

And for God knows what reason, she'd gone to help him out. And he'd stayed the night on her couch, and she'd watched him sleep curiously.

She fell asleep in the early morning, and when she awoke around midday, he was gone. Back home. Most likely calling Milah a million times until he finally realized that she wasn't going to answer.

That she wasn't coming back.

Cops said it was an accident, that there was ice on the road and her car had spun into the ravine and there was nothing she could have done about it. Thing was, the minute Killian heard those words, he sank.

And Emma had seen him before when he was in a downward spiral, but never had he spiraled so hard, so far, and so fast.

As she dumped her bag on her bench, she heard the sound of him sinking onto his bed next door. It was with a sigh of relief that she thought to herself that maybe, just maybe, he was getting better. After all, she hadn't seen one of his women with him for almost two weeks. But alcohol still seemed to be his best friend.

A text came through her phone, vibrating across the countertop. With a quick flick of her hand, her green eyes darted across the screen.

David: He got home okay? He's not passed out somewhere?

Emma bit down on her lip before quickly shooting her friend back a message.

Emma: He's passed out on his bed, so yes to both.

David's answer came back within a split second.

David: Can you check on him?

Emma hesitated.

David: He won't bite. I doubt he has the coordination.

"Oh, you know me too well," Emma sighed, slipping out of her shoes before creeping out of her door, grabbing the spare set of keys next to the door.

Emma didn't let the fact that she still had the spare keys to his apartment disconcert her. It seemed natural, even if it was a little painful.

It was only a few moments before she was tiptoeing into his room. She stepped lightly across the floor into his bedroom where his body lay spread-eagled across the bed, his face buried in the mattress. Emma crossed the floor. She simply couldn't help the concerned look that crossed her face as she leant down and tried to roll him onto his side. The way he was lying, she wasn't too sure if he could even breathe.

He groaned as she pushed him, but he didn't wake. Emma reached over for one of his pillows, shoving it under his head just as she felt a warm hand wrap around her wrist. Glancing down, she saw Jones' face screwed up in fear.

"Milah," he groaned desperately.

Emma froze before pulling her hand out of his grasp as quickly as she could without pulling him from sleep.

Still. It was a year, but still he dreamed of her…

When she saw that he wasn't going to suffocate himself in his sleep, she backed out of the room as fast as her feet would carry her, closing the door behind her softly and returning to her own apartment next door.

Rummaging through her drawers, she picked up the only clean thing she could find and threw it on after removing her clothes from work. Climbing underneath the blankets, she tried to clear her mind and convince herself that everything would be back to normal in the morning. Killian was be his usual arsehole self and she would continue to avoid him.

But it wasn't until she was drifting in that space between sleeping and awake that she realized the jumper she was wearing belonged to the man who was lying next door, hopelessly staring at the wall that separated them...

Review? Maybe?

TBC...