Hook did his best to keep his weight off of Emma, supporting himself as much as he could. He'd looked back when they thought they were still being chased, making sure she was still close behind him when his foot had caught a root, sending him tumbling to the ground. They'd made it back to the ship before the other groups, climbing the gangplank as best they could with his injury. She helped him onto the deck, and he pointed in the direction of his quarters, keeping his teeth gritted in pain.

Emma nudged the door open with her hip, looking around his quarters and taking it all in. She hadn't been in his personal cabin before, though he had extended the courtesy multiple times. Not in his normal suggestive tone, but in a comforting one, knowing she was under duress from the fact that Henry was still out there.

She sat him on the edge of the desk, and finally took note of the scratches in his shirt and the blood peeking through the openings. She noticed the scratches on his face as well and sighed. "Got anything to clean the wounds?"

"You could always kiss them and make them all better," he said, chuckling. The laugh turned into a grimace when she pushed on one of the deeper wounds, and he hissed. "Ah! There's rum in the desk drawer and clean cloths in the wardrobe." He watched her saunter away before adding, "Grab me another shirt, as well, love."

Emma walked to the wardrobe and pulled out the shirt first. She almost grabbed his vest as well, but remembered he'd removed it due to the heat of the day the Neverland sun brought. She closed the doors and tossed him the shirt as she passed him, making her way to the other side of the desk.

"Bottom right drawer, darling."

She crouched down, opening the drawer, grabbing the only flask she saw. When she stood, she was met with the sight of Hook's bare upper back as he started to pull the shirt over his head slowly. The leather contraption holding his hook to his arm was securely in place, and she realized her had to trust her quite a bit to reveal himself this way. Her eyes continued to move, and she took in the bandage that adorned his lower torso, having almost forgotten that he'd been hit by a car not long ago. She gulped, composing herself before making her way in front of him.

"How are the ribs?" She asked, pour a bit of rum on the cloth in her hand. "This is gonna sting."

He knew from firsthand experience, but it didn't take away the hurt. He winced when the cloth came in contact with his chest, but answered her through gritted teeth. "I've had worse pains. They still hurt from time to time, but I manage." Another hiss escaped his lips as she moved to another deeper scratch. "Easy on the goods, Emma."

She gave him a look, trying to distract herself from the flutter in her heart at the way he'd said her name. "We can rewrap your ribs if you'd like. I've had broken ribs before. I know the wrap can help. Even if it is a bit harder to breathe." She found herself focusing solely on his chest, finding talking about herself and looking him in the eye was far too intimate. And she knew she'd be too comfortable with it.

"When did you break your ribs?"

She looked up quickly, not expecting that to be the thing to come out of his mouth. "Uhm... A few years ago," she said, moving to the last scratch on his chest. "I was a bounty hunter. Rough job."

"Aye. That I know. I've had to outrun a few in my day, though none were as appealing to be caught by as I'm sure you were," he said with a wink. "They were usually rather burly men with meat caught in their beards. Not exactly my type." He gave her a quick once over. "I prefer the leggy ones." There was a bit of a pause as he studied her face. A face he'd already memorized a million times over, but could never get enough of. "Is that where this came from," he asked, brushing his finger lightly over the scar right below her eyebrow.

She unintentionally flinched away, suddenly remembering the last person to touch it and frowned. "Uh no. That was actually courtesy of Regina."

"Well, I hope you gave as good as you got."

Emma looked up, smirking, before attending to the cuts adorning his face. "I did a pretty good job bloodying up her lip." Emma swallowed, her eyes looking past him. "But...she beat me that night."

"And how did she do that?" he asked, having a hard time anyone could beat his Swan.

She looked down for a moment, her gaze falling to his chest, feeling the eerie familiarity of the situation, and suddenly had to fight off the need to check and see if his heart was safe and sound in his chest. "His name was Graham... But that's a story for another time."

Hook couldn't help the small smile that formed on his lips, despite the gravity he sensed in her words and her intense stare at the place his heart was beating a bit faster than normal. "So there'll be a next time?"

"Maybe."

Silence fell between the two as she tried to ignore his gaze on her face. The feel of it was ever present, burning her skin. She hadn't expected the situation they were in to take this kind of turn. Having him shirtless and cleaning his wounds, she expected suggestive tones and innuendos. Those she could deal with. It was the caring and the gentleness he could show her that she was still learning to handle. In the month they'd been in Neverland, he'd shown her a new side of him, smiling the way he only did for her, and she knew it. That's what unsettled her, but she was learning to deal with it. Maybe even like it, but she wasn't ready to admit to that. Not just yet.

She made the mistake of looking away from the scratch and into his eyes. There was so much adoration behind his eyes that he wasn't even trying to hide, unnerving her even further. She watched as his eyes scanned her face, a happy glow adding to the admiration. Her eyes fluttered, her resolve starting to falter under his gaze, and she directed her attention back to the last wound. She let out a sigh of relief once she finished, dropping her hands to her side.

"There. Good as new," she said, turning to discard the cloth, when she felt a tug on her wrist. She turned back with the pull, finding his hand firmly holding her in place.

He stood up, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. "Emma," he said, standing to meet her where she stood. "Thank you, Emma." He moved his hand to the hair that had fallen from her ponytail, tucking it behind her ear.

She swallowed, her breath fluttering at the feel of his hand making its way from her hair to her cheek, the stroking motion making the heat in them rise. "For… For what?"

He tilted his head to the side, studying her once more. She never ceased to amaze him. There were times like this, where he could see it in her eyes, that she didn't give herself enough credit. Her presence alone had brought a light to the shattering darkness of his life, and he wasn't about to let that slip through his fingers. Not again. Emma was his chance to live the life he'd wanted. Emma was his chance to breathe again, really breathe.

He gave her an admiring smile, the crinkles reaching his eyes. "You know what." He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, waiting for her to bridge the gap. To his surprise, she did.

It was a slow and gentle kiss, surprising them both. Emma had always thought that it might be a clashing, passionate kiss—not that she'd imagined their first kiss. But she'd never had a kiss quite like this. So sweet and gentle, but packing a punch that she felt in her toes. Her arms slid over his bare shoulders, and she still felt his thumb rubbing adoring circles on her cheek.

Emma pulled away, almost too soon for Hook, resting her forehead against his, not making a move to step away from him. She knew that she'd now taken the step, she couldn't go back, but, in that moment, she had no want to go back to how things were. She'd always trusted him, but now she wasn't scared to do it. He'd proved himself, coming back and taking them to Neverland, even after his enemy had boarded.

"Emma…"

"I know. You're welcome."

Both were so wrapped up in the moment that the clop of the boots coming from the hall fell on deaf ears. They both heard the door open, a voice coming from the doorway as it did. "Hook, we covered the entire north beach and found… Oh."

Emma's eyes grew wide as she saw her father standing in the door, suddenly feeling like a teenager that had been caught kissing her boyfriend goodnight. She took a cautious step away, angling herself in front of Hook, his hand leaving her cheek but coming to rest on her hip, letting her know he was there, unwavering.

"I was… I was just going to say the entire north beach is clear. No sign of Henry anywhere there," he said, doing his best to keep the situation from being awkward. While Emma was his daughter, he was a friend, too, and he respected her enough to not make a fuss over what he'd walked in on at the moment.

"Aye," Hook replied in a steady voice, leaning back over the desk, cringing in pain as he marked out the north beach on the map. "We'll search Skull Rock tomorrow."

"Sounds… Sounds good." He gave the two a curt nod, trying to exit gracefully. "We'll be on deck when you're..uh..when you're finished cleaning his wounds…" He shut the door behind him, not wanting to stay any longer.

Emma let out a sigh of relief, her head automatically, and Hook let out a laugh. "I knew he'd come around," Hook said confidently.

"Shut up," she said, taking the shirt he'd placed on the desk and handing it to him. "We should probably get out there. Get some more distance from the mainland before nightfall."

"Aye," he replied, smiling at her, taking the shirt and brushing their fingers against one another. "That would be the smart idea."

"I'll be out there when you're ready." She made her way to the door, pulling it open before turning back to him, a small smile gracing her face. "And Killian…," she said, his real name grabbing his attention. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, Emma."

He still couldn't wipe the smile from his face as the door closed behind her. He tugged the shirt back over his head before sinking back onto the desk, giving himself a second to catch his breath again. While he'd secretly hoped that the trip would bring what was between them out into the open, he never expected it to. He would've waited centuries to be with her, and he'd wait a hundred more centuries if that's what it took. But something in the spark under his finger tips and the tingle on his tips told him that his waiting was over.