So avoidance turned into down right running away. Any hint he could arrive at Granny's or the Rabbit Hole sent her scurrying off on some urgent errand. She made sure she didn't spend too long at the station - knowing he could easily find her there. And definitely, absolutely she kept a wide berth of the docks.

But the one place she could not stay away from was home.

It was Sunday. The sun was setting, obscured as it was by the thick grey clouds of a winter storm approaching. It had been three days since her last dream of him. In fact, in those three days she had barely slept, never mind dreamt of anything else. The tiredness was beginning to show in her red rimmed eyes.

The first heavy drops of rain began to attack the windows of the apartment, bursting on impact and blurring the hazy light from outside; darkening the space. Emma watched the water as it made lazy trails down the small square panes - envying its freedom and fluidity. Alone in the apartment she felt restless and trapped - Henry was with Regina and her parents had gone out for dinner. The large space felt small and claustrophobic, left as she was with her thoughts. More accurately, her fears.

The knock at the door had startled her; rousing her from her thoughts. She placed the lukewarm mug of coffee she had been drinking down and pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders. There was a chill in the air which prickled her skin and made her shiver slightly.

"Hook-" she cried in surprise as she opened the door. His leather clad figure, hair damp from the rain, stood tall in the hallway, his thumb hooked in his belt, as it often was. At first his face looked a little shocked - it was over a week since they had been face to face, after all. But then a small smile rose across his lips. She felt something warm trickle down her spine.

"Emma, I was looking for Dave-"

Emma shuffled a little awkwardly on her feet and crossed her arms around her chest, "Out, sorry. I can give him a message."

Her tone was impersonal, flat. Not one used for someone with whom you were on such familiar terms. It told him leave me. Go.

"No, that won't be necessary." She was sure she saw a hint of pain in his eyes as he made to leave, before he stopped. Moving his arm, he began to rub his finger and thumb together before licking his lips quickly. "Actually Emma, may I speak with you?"

"Um," she hesitated, he had already been close to her for too long. Images from her dreams were starting to pepper her vision, making her feel hot in spite of the chill. "Is it important?"

"Quite," he added, with a raise of his eyebrows.

Pulling the door wider, she gestured for him to enter the apartment. She had left the TV on with the sound down low. The light from the images flickered across the empty room as the rain continued to lash down.

"Some storm, eh?" she muttered as she emptied out her now cold coffee. She lifted the cup up in a gesture to ask if he would like one. He shook his head.

"This is nothing but a mere squall, Love," he smiled, taking an awkward seat at the table as she refilled the kettle and placed it on the stove.

"So," she began as she returned to him, interlacing her hands and resting them on the table in front of her, directly across from where he sat. "How can I help?"

His eyes flashed down as he seemed to think - considering her question, before he looked up again, "What is wrong, Emma?"

"Wrong?" she asked with a puzzled expression.

"Yes. Wrong. For more than a week now you have been avoiding my company. I have noticed the way you walk away if I am near, how you haven't been to Granny's for lunch for at least a week, you are never at the dock anymore-"

"Are you spying on me?" she gasped, her heart beginning to pound as she realized he was calling her on her behavior. Clearly her avoidance had been more than obvious.

Pushing himself up with his hooked hand he slowly made his way around the table until he was just a couple of feet away. "Just observant," he replied, his eyes searching her face.

She began to shake her head, trying to clear away the images invading it and the permeation of her senses by his scent - salty, musky and masculine. "No, no," she protested, "I've just been busy and with Henry and the station…" Her voice trailed off as she realized her protestations sounded somewhat ridiculous the moment she spoke them. Edging a little closer, he placed his hand on the table as she stood and straightened herself up.

"I am starting to believe there may be a little more to it," he said in his silky, smooth drawl.

Emma chewed on her tongue as she looked at him, looking at her with such intensity it almost hurt. She may be the human lie detector but Killian Jones saw through her like she was a pane of glass. Lying seemed pointless.

"Fine," she muttered, glancing to her right, "I feel a little uncomfortable around you right now."

"Uncomfortable?" His voice rose at the end of the word; he seemed slightly amused. "Why on Earth would that be?"

She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair. His closeness was making her fidgety. Anything she could do to take her mind of his face and his eyes and the leather and the hair on his chest…

"You distract me."

"Oh, do I?" he whispered.

Somehow he was so close now she could feel his breath on her skin.

"Oh please," she retorted, flipping her head back over her shoulder in an attempt to diffuse the growing tension. Then his hand was on hers - warm and large and surprisingly soft. His fingers tightened and she could feel the warmed metal of his rings pressing into her skin.

"Why are you scared of me, Emma?"

Damn him. Damn that man.

"I'm not…"

His nose was now tip to tip with hers, foreheads almost touching. She should push him away, ask him to go…

"Then why are you trembling?"

She was. She hadn't noticed. Her breath came in achy waves, her hand shaking beneath his.

"Because…" she began.

"Yes?" he muttered, leaning in closer. So close, his lips were almost upon hers. Her core felt hot and her body was frozen, paralyzed almost. She was scared of what she would do if she let herself go.

"Because - because I don't trust you."

His fingers were now trailing up her arm, farcing over the exposed skin of her wrist, leaving a tingling ice trail in their wake.

"Hmm," he groaned. Her stomach flipped at this guttural sound that came from deep within him. Exactly as she imagined.

And he smelt so damn good. If she tilted her head, she could…

But he did it first. With a slight twist of his neck, his soft, deliciously warm lips were on hers - gently teasing her mouth, willing her lips open. It took her a second to realize what was happening and another to admit it was better than any aspect of her dream. And it was only a kiss.

Grabbing his vest, she pulled him closer, falling into his kisses as his hand moved to cup her head. Slow, sweeping, leisurely kisses, ones full of meaning and desire.

"No," she cried suddenly, pushing him away with both hands, "No."

His face looked confused, his brow furrowing and his cheeks slightly flushed. "No?" he whispered.

She didn't reply, merely looked at him. She wanted to tell him why - why she was scared. That she didn't want to let herself be vulnerable. That it hurt too much the first time and that with him she saw all the signs.

But instead she just shook her head.

He nodded slightly, running his thumb over his lips as he spoke to her. How she wanted those lips on hers again…

"Then I will take my leave. Goodnight, my lady."

And with a swish of black leather and a soft bang of the door he was gone and she was alone.

She stood rigid for a few seconds, staring at the space he had occupied. A buzzing sound began to fill her ears as her mind became blank - her chest felt hollow and empty as her limbs began to leaden, dragging her down.

This introspection was broken by the piercing whistle of the kettle. She blinked in surprise, rushing over to move the boiling pot from the stove - the steam that rose from it dampening her face and making small tendrils of her hair curl.

He was gone. He had left.

You told him to, a voice inside reminded her.

She knew it was true, it was what she had wanted - right?

But if that was indeed correct, why did she feel so deflated and lost?

Her feet were moving before her mind could catch up. Out of the loft, down the stairs and out into the pouring rain that announced the impending eye of the storm. Blinking back the water that began to pour down her face she looked along the deserted street, "Hook?" she shouted, her voice swallowed up by the sound of pouring water. "Ki-Killian!"

Then she saw him. He turned his head and she could see his face, contrasting starkly with his dark hair and black leather. He paused, half facing her.

And now her heart was pounding. What was she doing? This was crazy, stupid…

Her body knew what her mind didn't want to admit yet.

And she was running; her feet chilled by the damp, cold sidewalk, her hair sticking to her face.

When she reached him she was panting, streams of rain ran down her cheeks as her hands clutched at the wet, limp cuffs of her sweater.

"What is it, Swan? You're going to catch your death in this!"

A low rumble of thunder sounded ominously in the distance. She swallowed and stepped closer.

"I didn't mean that," she said, only really understanding herself as the words were spoken. "I am scared of you," her eyes squeezed tight for a second, "I'm scared I might care for you."

The left side of his mouth curved into a smile. Emma watched as drops of water began to fall from the collar of his coat. He reached out and smoothed the hair from her face. Still smiling at her. She couldn't help but respond in kind.

It was her turn to make a move. Slowly, she arched her feet, reaching up to him, closing her eyes against the assault of the increasingly heavy rain. Their lips met, his hand dug into her hair as she swung her arms around his neck, wrapping herself around him and clinging to him, almost begging him not to leave. He shifted his hooked arm, slipping it around her waist and hoisting her legs around him until he was holding her and carrying her back to the apartment building.

Soft kisses paused as he set her down, sheltered from the rain in the eaves of the building. "Why does that scare you?" he asked as he held his hand at her waist.

She looked up, taking a breath as the words formed. Why was she so scared?

"Because the last time I cared about someone like that my heart was broken," she admitted, a sudden wave of relief engulfing her.

"I'd die before I ever hurt you," he promised, his blue eyes twinkling, his voice earnest and soft.

And as cheesy as the line was, as sappy and romantic as the things he could say were, she knew it was true.

He'd never hurt her - could never hurt her. It was a strange realization with no basis in fact apart from what she felt and her knowledge of this pirate, this hero, this… man.

"I know," she admitted, narrowing her eyes a little.

The roaring of the rain became heavier, falling in icy heavy sheets and splashing up from the sidewalk to dampen her feet.

"I think we'd better get you inside," he told her, suddenly sweeping his arm around her waist and pulling her up to his chest.

Review?

(The smut is back in chapter 5...)