Chapter 3: She Likes The Way He Sings

They fell into a comfortable pattern – he would drop by several times during the day to bring her food and check on her ankle. Every time he changed the bandage, his fingers would ghost along her foot. He hadn't been enthralled with a woman for a very long time, not since Milah.

She was mostly silent during these visits – Killian figured that she still didn't trust him, and he could understand her trepidation. She would only open up during the night, offering bits about her family and her village after many a prompt from Killian. She finally began to let down her guard a week later, after he had apologized that it would take a bit longer for her leg to heal, offering him flashes of a sweet smile when he brought her food and even teasing him when he regaled her with stories from his youth. He started to look forward those visits.

Emma was frustrated. Her leg wasn't healing fast enough for her liking. She had tried moving around and it had caused her injury to get worse, elongating her need to stay longer. She could hobble around now, and she practiced when she was alone, using the dusty furniture that surrounded her. She even managed to make it to the small outhouse that was nearby without the use of the crude crutches that Killian devised for her. The only respite she got was Killian's visits. She had been wary at first, but he had been so honest and kind that she couldn't help but warm up to him. Still, she kept her guard up, no matter how much her skin tingled with delight when his fingers ran along her ankle for longer than necessary. Her fondness for this man (his dimples, his permanently ruffled hair) was going to cause a problem if she didn't fulfill her mission soon.

Tonight was no exception. He had brought her a starchy soup, hearty and filling. Emma inhaled it into her as soon as Killian handed her the bowl. He grinned at her, and she scowled playfully in return.

"Didn't know you were a fan of my cooking, Swan."

She rolled her eyes at that.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?"

He flashed her a cheeky smile.

"Well, I could tell Liam that he can cook the next couple of meals."

"Did he make that rabbit stew last week?"

"Yes."

"Then no thank you."

They shared a laugh, and Killian stared at her with his twinkling eyes for a beat too long.

"My mom's was better."

She looked at him and noticed that wistful look in his eyes. She recognized it. That yearning for family, for home.

He told her more about his mother, and how she had been taken from her young sons along with her husband. How devastated they had been and how angry. How Killian felt that her memory was slipping away from him.

"What do you remember?" she asked.

He looked down for a second, and brought his eyes up to meet hers.

"A lullaby."

She offered him a soft smile. She wondered about the kind of song that would have made a young Killian fall asleep.

"Maybe you could sing it to me."

He stared at her for a minute, and Emma wondered if he could hear the wild beating of heart. She was about to apologize for her uncouth request when he answered her with a grin.

"Perhaps tomorrow, Swan. I'm a little tuckered out tonight."

He bid her goodnight, blew out the lantern and slipped out the door.

Emma focused her thoughts. She really was getting to close to him. She needed to get out soon. She lay in bed for another hour, making sure that the Jones brothers would be fast asleep before she rose unsteadily to her feet.

She hobbled to the door, feeling her away around in the dark till she found the door and pushed it open slowly. The cold night hit her and its briskness woke her up a little. She started in the direction of the houses she saw in the distance.

A few hours later, she had seen most of the town. She ducked in and out of the shadows whenever she felt that someone was approaching and she thanked the gods that she had not been found yet. The lanterns that hung in the streets where still burning, though they were fairly low now, and she knew that soon they would be out and she would be in total darkness. She still hadn't found him yet though…

She made her way through the dark alleyway that she had left till last, and she emerged near a small store. 'Curiosities' read the sign. It looked promising. She hobbled to the windows, hoping to look in.

"Looking for something, dearie?"

Emma froze. She moved slowly, partly in order to not startle the owner of the voice and partly to assuage her throbbing ankle.

"Rumplestilskin."

He looked exactly as her parents had described him – a glittery sheen covered his skin (due to the magic, her parents had explained), his hair was a bob consisting of unkempt curls, and he had a permanent smirk on his face.

He giggled an unnerving giggle.

"What can I do for you, your ladyship?"

Emma stared him down. He wasn't going to frighten her. She knew of more terrifying things and this little man was not going to shake her. She lifted her chin in defiance.

"If you know who I am, then you know why I'm here."

He answered with another giggle.

"But of course, dearie! And I believe you know the stipulations of any deal you make with me?"

She had known. There had been whispers that all magic came with a price, and she was willing to pay any price, including the cost of her own life, in order to ensure her people's freedom.

"Yes."

He grinned at her, an insincere smile full of crooked teeth.

"I can help, Lady Swan. But there are two things-" he held up to fingers.

"One – you must help me find a young man. I heard your mother is quite the tracker."

Emma breathed a sigh of relief. That seemed simple enough.

"Yes, she is, and we will find anyone you want as soon as you help us." She said, emphasising the last part of her sentence.

He did not reply, but continued to grin.

"Secondly, you must know what will happen to this place if I leave to help you."

Emma had worried about that, and feared that taking him away would mean the betrayal of this town, of Killian Jones.

"Zelena will move onto her next target, and what better target that Storybrooke?"

He gestured around him.

Emma gulped. Initially the town had not been a major concern – her only concern lay with her people. But now Emma had a problem. A Killian Jones-shaped problem.

Rumplestilskin smirked at her, sensing her inner turmoil.

"I'll give you three days to think about it, dearie. Don't take too long. I doubt Misthaven could hold out for too much longer."

With that, smoke swirled around him and he disappeared, leaving Emma alone in the dark with only her tortured conscious for company.

Emma had been quiet the whole day, Killian noticed. He hadn't thought much about it during the day when Liam and he were hauling in the nets with the day's catch, but now as the quietness of night had settled, he began to realize that she was not happy.

"Is your ankle hurting you?" he asked softly, placing her meal (lentils and bread) down next to her so that he could look at her bandaged foot.

She offered him a weak smile.

"A little."

He hummed while he applied a cooling salve over her ankle and bound it with a fresh bandage.

"Sing to me."

The request was offered in a low voice, almost pleading.

He looked at her. She looked smaller than ever, a hint of sadness in her eyes that had not been there the day before. She looked tired too. She was probably missing her home, Killian surmised, feeling terrible that she had been constrained here for longer than they had both expected.

He cleared his throat.

"I'm a little rusty lass, so don't laugh."

He was greeted with a serious nod.

"Over the seas we go,

My little lad and me.

I may have to travel alone,

But I'll always think of you,

My little lad and me.

Waves may separate us, days distance us,

But I'll come home to you, always.

My little lad and me."

He was met with silence, and then she touched his arm gently.

"That was beautiful. Thank you…Killian."

He couldn't bring himself to say anything, and simply nodded. He rose to his feet.

"Goodnight, Swan."

Then he felt compelled to lean down and press a kiss to her brow. It seemed right. After all, his mother would do the same after she sang that lullaby.

He took her half-finished meal and left without saying anything else.

Emma couldn't sleep that night. The lilting lullaby played over in her head, couple with Rumplestilskin's words. Then there was the matter of that kiss….it burned where his lips met her skin. She moved her fingers to her forehead, feeling the heat still lingering there, though she knew that that warmth was the result of her own frenzied mind. She did not fall asleep until morning.