Wow! I first must say thanks to those who have already left me reviews this time around! It's a relief to know that I'm not the only one interested in this little idea I'm exploring. I was a bit nervous about this at first – didn't want to seem like I'd truly lost faith in Emma or painted it too darkly. Hope you enjoy this next installment. (And, of course, I still don't own them!)

ii. dancing on the edge

He paces outside the rented room he once called his own, jerking a rough hand through mussed dark hair and wondering how best to approach the lass who has stolen his heart, who is awaiting him within. The look he had seen lingering on her face yesterday still makes his blood run cold, but he has never been one to give up without a fight. Like the rest of Emma's family, he does not abandon hope easily. He knows that though her spark – her unique and priceless flame has flickered – the transformation is far from complete. His Swan is a fighter, and he intends to help her wage this war.

Killian's true concern, as he raises his hook to tap lightly upon the wooden door, is that he will not be enough to help her. The very sight of the hook on his blunted left arm is enough to make him wince and feel that fear all the more; it is a clear and drastic reminder that he has been where Emma stands now, chose the wrong course, and followed it for far too long.

Scuffling noises emit from within the room, puzzling him and causing him to call out in case she hasn't heard his knocking. "Come now, Love," he urges playfully. "Don't keep an old pirate waiting!"

A few moments later, the door eases open a crack, revealing one side of Emma's face as she peeks around the barrier – mouth smirking and her eye twinkling with an edge of mischief he's never seen from her before. She steps back and opens the door wider, allowing him to enter the room, but keeping herself mostly hidden. "Won't you come in, Captain?" she practically purrs. "I've been expecting you."

Her voice is pitched low, all silk and seduction, and it throws Killian off balance. He is usually the one tossing innuendo and inching their flirtation forward, and though he is certainly amenable to Emma taking the lead and making her own romantic moves, something about this does not feel quite right.

Reaching the middle of the thinly carpeted floor, he draws in a deep breath and turns to face his love, just as he hears the door slam closed and Emma giggle with a type of wild glee he has certainly never heard her utter. His brow furrows, and then he is fully facing her and all the bloods races from his face and his breath stalls at fully clapping eyes on her.

"Emma, what…?" he tries to ask, but the words trail off and die on his lips. She leans against the door, staring right back at him, one delicate brow arched in challenge, a smug grin on her mouth, and crooking a finger at him to beckon him closer. Killian knows that if the situation were not so serious, he would laugh at his own reaction – mouth suddenly gone dry and eyes bugging from their sockets.

He has never seen Emma look so soft and willing, yet dangerously tempting, as she does in this moment. It twists and wrings his heart that he has to resist. This is not something she would do naturally – attempt to seduce so blatantly – and he sees the strange detachment still swirling in her eyes behind the "come hither" stare. So much of her creamy, flawless skin is on display that he has a hard time figuring where to rest his gaze. It is a far stretch from indecent, but the satiny, pale pink slip she wears under a loosely flowing white robe that she has left untied leaves more of her legs and décolletage on display than she has ever shown him. It gives her the appearance of a lost and bewildered fallen angel, just waiting to be debased.

"Why are you so far away, Killian?" she pouts, batting her lashes at him in a very un-Emma-like fashion. "I know you want this. Why don't you come a bit closer?"

He swallows reflexively around the large, suffocating lump in his throat, and takes a faltering step toward her, steeling his resolve. There has never been a time he has needed to rely on his sodding 'good form' and vow to be a gentleman more. Emma is playing with fire, and it would be all too easy to give in, to take what he has desired for so long. Yet, all her life Emma has been ill-used, tossed aside, taken for granted…and he will not do the same. He has promised to treasure her as she deserves, and he will not falter at this trial.

Nervously darting his tongue out to wet his lips, Killian's sharp eyes don't miss Emma's harsh intake of breath or the way her green orbs follow the involuntary movement with intense, burning hunger. When he gets close enough to touch her, he reaches out, pulls her to him abruptly, and crushes her to his chest. What she is offering is clear, but he prays that holding her will break through the haze surrounding his Swan, and that she will take the comfort and assurance he is trying to offer.

He dips his head to bury his nose in the soft hair at the crown of her head, breathing in her particular scent of cinnamon, honey, and what he likens to sunshine and light itself. With his hook at the small of her back, keeping her close, Killian smoothes his hand reverently over her hair, her shoulder, and down her back, trying to soothe and calm, take away the sting of his unspoken rebuff.

Emma allows the gentle contact for a few aching moments, just long enough for Killian to think things may be alright – and then she wriggles out of his hold – putting him at arm's length and staring him down.

"I don't understand, Killian," she rasps, voice low and filled with enough hurt to stab viciously into his chest. She lowers her eyes and sniffles. When she raises her lovely green gaze once more, unshed tears glisten on her lashes. "I – I truly believed that you wanted me…" her words trail off there, but the sense of betrayal she feels is evident as she turns away from him and retreats several steps, arms wrapped around herself protectively.

Killian bows his head, shoulders slumping in defeat – as careful as he tried to be, he has still hurt her. Involuntarily, knowing it may only bring more pain, make things worse, he lurches after her, hand and hook reaching out in hopes of pulling her back and making her understand.

"Emma…" he whispers her name tenderly, pleading with her to see reason, to sense what he truly feels beneath her temporary confusion. "Love…you know…you must know by now…what I feel for you. I want you more than I can adequately express. At this moment though, it would not be right. I care for all of you, love and treasure your heart and your soul, not just your body. Can't you see? I will not take advantage of you when you are not yourself!"

She has crossed the room, standing with her back to him at the window, and he sees her shoulders rise, her whole form stiffen at his impassioned speech. Again, blind with hope, he thinks for a second that his words have reached her. He steps that much closer, about to lay his hand on her shoulder, when Emma whirls and catches him off guard.

Her eyes are crackling with barely contained fire as she stares him down, and if Killian were a lesser man, he might take a few steps back in fear. He can see magical energy sparking and flickering across her palms, disturbingly more gray tinged than the usual brilliant white glow. "No!" she yells forcefully, tossing her head as the air around them begins to dance with power. "You don't get to be honorable and gentle and make me want you even more! Not if you aren't going to do anything about it! I'm tired of always trying to be the hero! Tired of trying to please everyone else and ending up unhappy and alone myself. It's time I get what I want!"

"But Darling, you aren't really—" he starts, only for her to interrupt in a powerful, unnerving voice that barely seems her own.

"Enough!" She raises her hands and there is an audible sizzle in the room's atmosphere. The lights waver fitfully, and Emma's eyes find and hold him, freezing Killian in place as effectively as if she has turned him to stone.

"Killian Jones, you are mine," she intones, the strangely haunted look in her eyes growing more pronounced and nearly taking over. She no longer appears torn over her actions, no longer looks hurt or vulnerable, but more like a vengeful goddess past all control. "I bind you to me from now on. You will not leave my side or fail to do my bidding. My wish is your command, until I say otherwise or send you away from me. You cannot leave me and you cannot betray me." A twisted little smile curls over her lips, deviously malicious where a smile has before only ever seemed tentatively shy and beautiful. "Now," and she nearly laughs in his face as she leans forward, repeating his months old promise back at him in mockery, "is when the fun begins."

Then she flings her hands out before her, touches them to his chest, and casts her spell.