It was past midnight on Christmas Eve and she ought to be home putting the finishing touches on the presents and such - Henry still thought Santa might be real, which given their family tree might not be so absurd - but Emma needed to get out of the house. It had been days since they had returned from the Underworld, and still she had neither seen nor heard from Killian. She understood that he was still upset with her for turning him into a Dark One, and that he was reeling from all he had been through since, but she had hoped that once she saved him, things would get back to normal. It appeared she was wrong.
Being in the house that he had picked out for them, even now that Henry was living there part-time (most of the time since the baby had gone home with Regina and Robin) and they had covered just about every inch in Christmas decorations, felt wrong without Killian there. It seemed too empty to her, without the future that he had pictured for them. She hadn't even gotten a chance to ask him what that future involved - did he want to live together, get married, have kids? Such thoughts buzzed through Emma's brain as she strolled through Storybrooke, her feet unconsciously taking her toward the docks.
She had never once considered having another kid, but then she had seen Regina, Robin, and little Holly and she couldn't stop her mind from wandering. To a little boy with her blonde hair and Killian's blue eyes and a little girl with jet black hair like him and emerald eyes like her. Emma thought about whose nose a baby might have and whose ears. Whether they would have a rough and tumble pirate or a delicate princess. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the image of a little baby, of getting to see all the things she missed with Henry. The idea scared her a little, but not as much as she thought it might have. Except now Killian was gone, not talking to her, and he had taken with him any chance of such a future.
Without realizing it, Emma had reached the docks, her feet standing at the very edge of the wooden planks, the toes of her boots hanging off. She let out a deep sigh, her breath creating a little puff of mist in the cold night air. The Jolly Roger was only a few docks over, but Emma kept her eyes fixed on the horizon. She had not seen this coming, hadn't prepared herself for this situation. She had started to believe Killian when he said he wasn't going anywhere, when he said he was a survivor, and then he had nearly died and she - she had done terrible things, driven him away, probably for good. Her heart felt like it was cracking, fissures forming along old fault lines, just waiting for him to say the words, to tell her it was over, before it would shatter irreparably.
She didn't hear the footsteps approaching behind her, scuffing the toes of her boots on the wood as warm tears stung her frozen cheeks.
"Swan," he croaked, his voice dry and husky as though he hadn't spoken in days.
Emma whirled around quickly, and it was only Killian's hand on her waist that prevented her from toppling backward into the frigid water. As soon as she was stable, he pulled his hand away, tucking it back into his pocket and looking down and the wood beneath his feet.
"I saw you approach from the Jolly," he said in explanation, not looking up at her. "I thought perhaps you had come to talk."
"I didn't," Emma answered hurriedly, not wanting to irritate him by making him think she couldn't respect his need for space. He nodded and began to turn away, but Emma took a step forward, bursting with the need to be close to him now that he was right there. "Killian, wait."
He paused, half turned away from her.
"I - I didn't come to talk, I just needed to think," she continued, saying more than she meant to due to nerves. "But now we're both here, so - so, can we talk?"
"Aye, Swan, if you'd like," he answered, turning to face her once more, fingers unconsciously traveling up to scratch behind his ear.
He said nothing else, and Emma fidgeted nervously as she waited for him, needing him to tell her what was going through his head so she could deal with whatever it was.
"Killian, please, tell me what you're thinking," she pleaded after a moment, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
"I'm thinking a great many things, Swan," he said simply, and she felt frustration tug at her emotions.
"Tell me. If you're angry with me, tell me, if there's something you want from me, tell me."
"Angry, Swan? I'm bloody livid!" Killian replied, his tone fierce. "What you did to me - how could you?" Emma opened her mouth to reply, but he barreled on. "You turned me back into the man I hated, after I worked so hard to change, for you. You took away my choice, Swan. You, you -"
"I know, Killian," she interrupted, reaching a hand out tentatively, but not quite touching him. "I know what I did, and I'm so, so -"
"Sorry?" he scoffed. "And you think that's enough?"
"No," she whispered, bowing her head. "If you want to end this, Killian, us, I wouldn't blame you."
"End this?" he exclaimed, his voice harsh and incredulous. "Do you know what the worst part of all this is?" His eyes softened slightly and his voice cracked as he continued. "I try to think what I would have done had it been you, lying in my arms, bleeding, dying. Had I the power to save you, despite the cost, what would I have done? And I just can't, I cannot truthfully tell myself that I would have done anything differently, Swan."
Emma lifted her eyes to meet his, a tiny spark of hope flaring to life in her gut.
"I think about losing you, Emma, and I just - I can't lose you, love," Killian stated, scratching once more behind his ear.
"Then - then why have you been staying away from me the past few days?" she inquired, still feeling nervous.
"Because loving you, Swan, doesn't mean that everything is alright," he answered, eyes pained as he reached out and ran his thumb over her cheek, a sad smile gracing his lips as she leaned into his touch.
"What can I do to make it better?" she asked, her hands moving to rest on the lapels of his leather jacket, index finger playing with the string of the sweatshirt peaking out from underneath.
"Time, love," he replied, his hooked hand wrapping around her waist and pulling her a step closer. "All I need is a little time to heal."
Emma shuffled even closer, pressing her body against his as his arm tightened around her, one hand traveling up to rest on his cheek, almost mirroring his stance. Killian tipped his head forward so his forehead was resting against hers as they breathed in each other's air. Their lips were only centimeters apart and it was taking all of Emma's self control not to close the gap, wanting to let him lead for once. She didn't know how long they stood there, but eventually, he pressed his lips carefully to hers, fitting them together perfectly as hers parted underneath his. She felt his long eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as his eyes closed and she leaned into the kiss as though she would die without it. When he pulled away, she couldn't help but chase his lips slightly, bringing a small smile to his face.
"Killian," Emma whispered, her breath hot on his face, "can we heal together?"
"Aye, love, I think that would be good," he answered, before pressing another soft, slow kiss to her lips, unable to resist.
"Maybe at home?" she asked hesitantly when he pulled away again. "At least for Christmas? If - if you still want it to be our home."
Instead of answering her, Killian laced his fingers through hers and began walking, leading her in the direction of the house. Snow began to fall in soft flurries as they walked in comfortable silence, the sun just starting to lighten the sky. Killian's hook is on the gate of the picket fence when Emma stops him with a hand on his elbow.
"When you picked this house," she started, nervous once more, "what did you picture?"
"What do you mean, Swan?" he asked, brows furrowed in confusion.
"Well the house was for our future. What did you imagine for our future?" His hand shifted to her waist, thumb rubbing back and forth gently as he took a moment to consider his answer.
"I imagined us, Swan, happy, together. Beyond that, I'm not sure." He scratched behind his ear absentmindedly with his hook, and then let out a small curse when he accidentally cut himself. "I thought of a great many things, but I wasn't sure what you might want, and beyond being with you there is nothing that I need to make me happy."
Emma stretched up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.
"Merry Christmas, Killian," she whispered in his ear, snuggling her nose into his neck.
"Aye love, Merry Christmas."