A/N: Nothing to say really... I'm not getting much response but I'm gonna keep writing this... Maybe I'll just update less frequently.

"You wear glasses?"

She shrugged.

He was sitting on the couch when she approached from her room, wearing a pair of square glasses that made her look younger, somehow. At his comment she made a movement to take them off.

"No, keep them on, Swan; I think you look rather cute this way."

She smiled a little and walked towards the couch. "Scoot." She ordered. When he did she collapsed on the couch next to him and turned the TV on.

"What are we watching, Swan?"

"I feel like Disney today. The old ones, you know? Sleeping beauty, Robin Hood, Peter Pan-" He groaned. "Urgh, anything but Peter Pan, love, I loathe this bloody movie."

She smiled impishly. "Peter Pan it is, then."

He groaned again. "Where am I supposed to go? I live on the couch!" When she smirked he moaned. "I'll be hiding in the bathroom if you want me; it's the only neutral territory in this place." She laughed.

"There is no neutral territory, Jones, it's my house. Why don't you like Peter Pan anyway?"

"Well, the imp is, what, a thousand years old, and he's tempting innocent children and abducting them from their bedrooms to keep him company in a place where no one gets old, never letting them go back home? Sounds rather villainous to me. And I find the entire idea of time standing still disturbing. Always have."

Emma laughed. He discovered he quite liked the sound. "You seem pretty passionate about it." She said. "We don't really have to watch Peter Pan. How about the Princess Bride? You can't miss with this one."

"I've never watched it."

"What?" she laughed in surprise. "Okay, so we have no other choices now, do we?"

He still couldn't quite get over how much younger she looked with her glasses on.

About an hour into the movie, she fell asleep on his shoulder. He paused it, saving her glasses from an unpleasant encounter with the floor by taking them off her nose and placing them on the table, and nudged her shoulder softly.

"Swan," he whispered, knowing she would not be happy to wake up there in the morning. She hummed tenderly in a sleepy manner.

"Swan, you better get to your bed or I'll have to sleep on the floor." He continued, helping her up and leading her to her room. He laughed silently when she stumbled on a step and fell into his arms. They stood in front of the door of her room in this weird embrace for a few seconds, and for once everything was right and warm and slow and the feeling was so familiar but yet overwhelming.

Fear was cold when he washed over him later.

He couldn't go through something like this again.

Especially not in this time of the year.

He hated this time of the year.

-xxx-

When she woke up the next day it was after mid-day and she was smiling for no reason. And then she got hit by a metaphorical train of pain and guilt.

It's was his day.

As pain washed over her in waved she kicked the blanket off of her and stared intensively at the ceiling, holding back her tears. She completely forgot. She was an awful human being. She vowed not to get out of the bed unless she really has to for the rest of the day, trying to sleep throughout it and failing as usual.

When she finally gave up and got up in a search for alcohol, her pain the only thing that didn't feel numb, she found him surrounded by her entire stash, looking utterly wasted.

She didn't even care.

She sat down next to him and claimed an entire bottle of rum to herself.

"Well what's the occasion?" he asked, agony hidden between his alcohol-influenced words.

"Not even nearly drunk enough to tell you." She snorted and swallowed an impressive amount of rum.

"Come on, Swan, yours can't be worst than mine."

"Wanna bet?"

He barked out a bitter laugh and nodded. It took her by surprise.

"I had… someone. Once."

"There is always a someone-once, isn't there?"

She chuckled darkly and nodded. "We decided we wanted to have a family, but I miscarried. Guess how many times."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Four." She laughed in endless pain. "Four times."

He didn't respond.

"And then he died. About a week later I found out I was pregnant again. A month after that, I lost the only thing I had left of him. Today is his birthday."

She sniffed and drank more rum, desperate to make the pain go away.

"My someone-once died in the second anniversary of my brother's death, in the same accident I lost my hand in. Exactly 6 years ago."

"Wow." She said. "Life sucks."

He laughed. "It does. Aren't you surprised I don't have a hand?"

She shook her head. "You never move your left hand's fingers, so I figured it was fake."

"Doesn't it bother you?"

She shook her hand again.

"You are a special person, Emma Swan."

She laughed.

"Is this the reason you can't stay home this week? The anniversary?"

He huffed. "Aye. One of my friends had a shrink call me once a day in the week around it so I could talk about it. Last time I tried talking about it I ended up trying to hang myself in the middle of the living room."

"So why wouldn't you just stay home and don't pick up the phone, dumbass?"

"I don't want to be tempted to."

She understood perfectly. Letting go of the pain felt so good, but also like treason.

"What were the odds our low point of the year would be on the same day?" she asked suddenly, earning a short chuckle.

"Aye." she gazed at his eyes, two endless pools of blue and pain, and sighed.

His lips were on hers moments later. She gasped in surprise but responded as soon as her numb mind figured out what was happening.

The moment his lips touched hers he saw a flash of light, then an image of her, apparently underneath him on what seemed to be some sort of a deck. Then he was in a jungle, accompanied by a short man wearing a red hat, and then he could see the sun sets on the widest horizon he had ever seen. He pulled back.

The things that crept into his mind weren't just thoughts, they were memories. He was absolutely sure.

"What happened?" she asked him, obviously confused.

"Didn't you feel that?" he asked in return.

"Feel what?"

She didn't feel it. He was going mad.

"Kiss me again, Swan, I need to-"

"Jones- Killian, What's wrong?"

"Just kiss me again, I have to see if-"

Her lips touched his gently before he could finish the sentence.

He could remember an odd woman in a weird place sending a hand into his chest and wrapping fingers around his heart. His brother- His brother? - collapsing in his arms, and finally her, Emma, asleep in his arms, his lips gently brushing her bare shoulder, pure, simple love .

She pulled away, a worried look in her eyes.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing." He lied. "Maybe I just had too much to drink, that's all."

"We both have," she said, though he could see in her eyes she didn't quite believe him. She got up. "I'm sorry, Jones. This was- it was obviously a mistake. I'm sorry."

He barely noticed she disappeared in her room. He was too confused.

Something was definitely not right.

And for the first time in his life he was completely sure it wasn't him.

Tell me what do you think :)