Ohmigod, I'm so sorry darlings! I had a lot of family stuff, so I'll be updating again, not everday, but this has become a fullblown fic. Thanks for the support and understanding.


Some nights, Emma would sleep on Killian's ship. She liked the boat, how it rocked gently at night. Everything smelled like him.

Tonight was one of those nights Emma slept on the Jolly Roger.

Liam was six months old now, and growing fast. To Emma, it meant only one thing.

Killian had been gone for a year.

It had been raining hard, coming down in sheets. She had just finished her shift (completely uneventful) and had decided to take a walk.

Unconsciously, she had ended up at the docks.

Emma could easily see the Jolly Roger from where she was standing. It loomed over the fishing boats like a mountain. She made her ways towards the gangplank, pausing in front of it.

Water dropped on her cheek.

At first she thought it was tears, but then she realized it was raining. She had dropped her umbrella. Reaching over to pick it up, Emma felt a slight breeze. Not the hard ones threatening to push her down, but something warm.

It smelled like Killian.

Emma didn't know if this was some kind of sick joke, or her own magic, but she took a step forward. And another. And another. Until she was on Killian's ship.

She didn't even notice the umbrella that had been blown away.

Emma made her way below deck, running her hand along the walls. She left a trail of dark wherever she touched. She was soaking wet.

She walked to the captain's quarters, and was hit with a full blast of familiarity.

She was home.

And all at once, she felt it sucked out of her. Killian was gone.

Killian was dead.

Emma started to sob, unable to control herself any longer. The storm raged outside, seemingly worse.

"Dammit," She said, wiping the tears out of her eyes with her sleeve. She only got wetter. Emma actually laughed a little.

Okay Emma, find some clothes, she thought to herself. There was a chest in front of his bed, but she had never opened it. She didn't know what was inside, but she could only guess they were Milah's clothes. She avoided the chest and instead went to the tiny armoire in the corner. It was full of his clothes and Emma grabbed a shirt.

A flicker of white caught her eye.

"I thought he only wore black," Emma mused out loud. She pushed clothes aside until she found it: a pair of white pants, white shirt, and cream colored vest. She pulled them out.

They were smaller, but upon closer inspection they were not Milah's. Emma felt kind of glad about that. And as she came to her conclusion, she felt the breeze again.

They were pre-Hook.

When he really was Killian. She pulled her clothes off slowly, shivering as water slid down her arms and legs. She pulled on the pants. A little baggy, but they would do. The white shirt fit as well, and it was better than his low cut black ones. She left the vest; she wasn't trying to dress up.

And then that damn breeze for the third time. She spun around, feeling it pull on her hair. All of a sudden it stopped. But she understood.

She was staring at the chest.

"Well great," Emma said to no one in particular. "I guess I'm supposed to open this damn chest?"

She swore the universe said yes.

With a sigh, she bent down and unclicked the latch.

Emma hadn't really expected anything. So when she was greeted with the overwhelming smell of Killian, it was quite surprising. She looked down.

Drawings.

Drawings upon drawings upon drawings. Some scribbles, some full on sketches. Killian had used the things she had bought him. She remembered that day all too clearly, it was one of her favorite days.

"What is this place?" Killian had asked. Emma smiled.

"It's called a stationary store. You get things for writing, and drawing, stuff for your office."

"I have no idea what the bloody hell an office is, but I'll take your word this is a good place."

"Come on, pirate, let's go shopping."

Emma had bought a stapler for the station. Killian had bought the whole art department. Twelve notebooks, all different kinds, five colored pencils packs, and ten packs of charcoal pencils.

When she had asked what for, he had given her a quiet smile. She had questioned him the rest of the day, but he hadn't told her. Right before she had gone into her apartment, she had asked one last time.

"What's it for? Are you gonna draw or-" He had cut her off by pressing a firm kiss to her lips.

He pulled away, grinning. "Gifts," Was all he had said, and then he had walked away, leaving Emma feeling a tingle on her lips and the echoing question: For who?

Emma picked a drawing up. She gave a slight gasp.

It was her.

He had torn the page out of a notebook, she could tell. The paper was rough, unlike the regular paper she used to give him per request. He had drawn her staring at something, and she looked beautiful. He hair was curled in the drawing, pushed about by an invisible wind. She had a slight smile on her face, and the only color on the page was her eyes. Storming gray, with hints of green.

She had no idea how he had done that. She traced her hand over the lines, the curves of her face.

Slowly, she set down the paper.

Her hand brushed something soft, yet hard at the same time. Thinking it was a notebook, she pulled it out.

It didn't budge.

She pulled harder, and this time a whole lump of black leather flopped out, spilling onto her lap.

It was Killian's coat.

"Oh my God," She whispered, and then all hell broke loose. She wasn't sobbing, she was causing a full on storm. Tears were streaming down her face as she hugged the jacket. She never wanted to let go.

"Killian, Killian," She repeated it like a prayer, rocking back and forth.

The door creaked open, a burst of cold air coming through. She would close it later she just had to hold on a little more-

"Emma?"


BUM BUM BUMMMMMM! Cliffhanger! I know, I'm horrible. Who do you think it is?