A/N: Short little continuation for you guys! Thanks for waiting, my muse went into hiding I suppose. But I'm back and I already have an idea for part three of this triple-shot? It may or may not be fluff or angsty, I may do their wedding though. I'm more inspired during boring classes, sigh. Thanks for all the favorites and follows, they are greatly appreciated :)
Emma groaned with pleasure as Killian planted soft kisses hungrily against her neck, running his warm hands against her cold body. She was hungry, no, starving for him, this being their first night together, with Henry at Regina's for the time being. She wanted, needed to enjoy this night before she threw herself back into the dreadful world of wedding planning, and she clutched at Killian's hair, nibbled his ears, fought for him like she'd always wanted to.
"You devious little minx, how do you put this damned spell on me?" he moaned, the noise like music to Emma's ears.
"Gods, Kill-" He stopped abruptly and stared at something shiny against her breasts. His panting was the only sound in the dark, cool room, and Emma stared at him, annoyed that he'd ceased giving her warmth.
"Killian."
No response.
She stared at him, seeking that glimmer that appeared in his eyes so often when he teased and taunted her, but it was not there. Instead, his eyes were chips of ice, cold, hard, unrelenting.
When he spoke, his voice was hardly more than a whisper, yet it hurt her like a stab in the heart, the only sound audible in the darkened room.
"What is this? You, you still l-love him?" The tremors in her captain's voice caused her to look down at her chest, her eyes falling upon a necklace she hadn't realized was still there.
"Killian, I swear, I completely forgot I wore it, otherwise it would've been gone long-"
"Swan, please, don't." His voice was hard, and it hit her like the cool metal of a sword, a sword cutting into the tangible tension of the room;yet when she met his eyes they were glassy, tears on the verge of falling.
Without another word he departed, throwing on his pants and his coat in the bathroom as though it was nothing.
A single, heart-wrenching sob was all Emma heard before the bang of the door slamming shut.
Bloody fucking stupid goddamn thoughts.
Stop thinking, just stop, stop crying...
The tears forging a rugged path down his face refused to stop.
How had he ever thought, what the hell was he thinking when he even fooled himself into thinking he would ever be more than just the guy who flirted with her?
He'd done everything for her. Every. Goddamn. Thing. Possible.
Killian wanted so badly to stab himself with his hook, if he hadn't forgotten it in her fucking room. If that, or anything, would stop the pain coursing through his heart at the thought, the sight of the swan necklace which he couldn't unsee.
On their first night together, two bodies combining into one in perfect harmony, feeling as if he would and could never find anyone else like her, he'd thought, oh gods he'd thought...
Oh, Emma Swan.
He'd thought that she loved him, possibly even more than he loved her if such a feat was even humanly possible, but then he'd seen the swan necklace. The one from Bae, Neal.
He remembered when he first saw her wearing it, when she talked about it by his bedside in the hospital. She'd probably forgotten, seeing as he'd been practically incapable of formulating a proper response.
"It's nothing to me. It's a reminder, that I can't trust anyone. Because-he remembered, that crack in her soft voice, how a tear had dropped down from her eye and how quickly she had brushed it away-"Because when I do, when I put my faith in someone, anyone, they leave me. They always leave me, Hook. The truth is, is that I don't remember how to trust. I don't even, can't even imagine what true trust is." She'd laughed, but Killian had wanted to tell her so badly that he knew, he knew what she felt. "Maybe it's just the side effect of being an orphan. But I know that if someone, if anyone is able to tear down all my walls-"
Emma had stopped there. She'd looked away and assumed she was talking to a sleeping body and probably assumed he wouldn't care if she stopped talking.
She didn't know he'd seen how she looked at the necklace, the slightest and smallest of kisses that she planted upon it after her impromptu speech.
Could she? Did she still harbor a scrap of love for her first love? Was he her true love? Was, was everything just a bloody lie?
Emma and Neal.
Neal and Emma.
Those two words had barely ran around in Killian's head when he banished them. No, no, no. Bad form, Killian.
As he wandered the streets of Storybrooke through the dark of the night, the moon and stars hidden from sight, a thought overtook him and put his mind in its clutches: maybe, just maybe, he was being selfish.
He let the thought overtake him, sweep him off his feet like the wind that blew by him just as suddenly as the thought had occurred to him.
And subsequently, many other thoughts followed, like such: Maybe he should give her the benefit of the doubt, think of her first, put her first as was his instinct now. Maybe he was the one that didn't trust her. After all, Milah left him. Bae, no, Neal, left him. Liam left, his father, his mother, every goddamn person he knew had died or ran away or just decided he wasn't worthy of their attention or their trust.
And look how he ended up, a shell of his former self hell-bent on revenge until he'd seen the light, seen Emma, the bloody brilliant witch she was.
Emma, on the other hand, grew up with no one who loved her, at least that was the illusion she had been given, and she had spent twenty eight years without a single friend or person on her side.
Now that was true abandonment. Killian didn't want to leave her, not again, and even if she did love Neal he wanted her to be happy.
She deserved to be happy, and if he was standing in her way, well, then, he was the only person who could fix it.
Wiping his tears with a grimace, setting his face into a mask, and wishing for a taste of his beloved rum, he set off back for the loft, his footsteps echoing across the silent town.
Emma stared at the door as though she could just rewind time, force Killian back into the room, drag him if need be. If she could only bring him back to explain...
With a sigh, she looked down at the swan necklace and without thinking, overcome with emotion, she tore it off her neck.
And smashed it, and beat it and ruined it and brought all kinds of havoc down upon it, trying to send it to a necklace hell if there was any.
"Goddamn it! Why the hell do I have this on still? Why didn't I think? Oh god, what does Killian think of me now? What if he never comes back?"
The act of yelling and beating up the necklace strangely brought a wave of calm upon Emma, who realized what she'd done and sat down on the bed blankly and unsteadily.
She remembered exactly when Henry had given it to her, still in the throngs of Operation: Yellow Bug and full of hope over having a real family again.
"Mom, look what Neal gave me! It's the necklace! Put it on, put it on!" She had been too frazzled and tired from a full day's work to argue and she had just simply put it on and forgot to remove it.
Everyone else had forgotten that she even had it, even Neal. What a testimony to his fighting for me and his faithfulness, she thought with a bitter chuckle, although she knew it wasn't fair to diss the man who had given up his "happiness" so that she could be with her true love.
Killian. She threw her head into her hands and groaned.
Goddamn it, he had torn down all her walls and she wanted him with her forever, she could never fake the burning passion she felt, the hunger she had for Killian, the craving she always had for him. He had made her happier than she had ever thought was humanly possible, soothed her and comforted her and reassured her and teased her and done it all for her when she needed it the most.
And she repaid him by keeping the necklace on.
Emma remembered telling him about it when he had been in the hospital ages ago, when she was still gauging his character and searching for who he really was.
Did he remember everything? Had he just been asleep when she talked about it?
She had had feelings for Neal at the time. Idealistic, moronic, stupid feelings, but they were feelings all the same, and her being an open book to him left no doubt to her that he had picked up on that.
She knew how it looked, but she would swear on her life, if he asked her, that she had no romantic feelings left for Neal whatsoever.
"Please, Killian." Don't leave me. Come back.
Killian reached the loft and gave a sigh. Good form, Killian.
Then, heart pounding, he rang the doorbell.
Instinctively, she knew. She knew, she felt it in her heart.
It's him.
Quietly, in awe, she muttered, "He...he came back..."
When he opened the door, Emma felt relief and shock and happiness and everything pulsing within her and she was struck by impulse.
Doing the only thing she could think of, she grabbed Killian, pulled him close and brought his lips to hers, a kiss like that in Neverland but filled with more passion, with desire and "sorry's" and all the things they wanted to say to each other and everything, goddamn it she loved him.
"It's you, Killian. It, it's always been you."
