a/n: It's summer and I should be able to write faster than this, but when no inspiration comes - or even very little motivation - it's two weeks later I end up posting an update. Apologies to those that have been waiting for this chapter!


He dreads having to get out of bed, having to wake up in the morning to remember that the conversation they had was very real.

Rum eases the pain away, but the thing is, he can't go on a drunken stupor now.

There are no restraints though, nothing to hold him back at the moment, nothing until a little later in the afternoon when he has to head to the studio to meet with Robin and Will. Sighing, he grumpily climbs out of bed and slides into the washroom, showering and preparing himself for the rest of the day.

Two swift shots of rum burn down his throat, leaving a tingling sensation there for the longest time, though not affecting his ability to think. He constantly checks his phone in the hopes Emma will call back or at least send him a message, but the empty lock screen without a notification tells him she's not going to just run back toward him. If she's been running away her entire life, there's a low chance she'll run toward something or someone. He wants to somehow fix that, change things between them, not even declare them apart, but he doesn't know where to start.

He doesn't even want to begin to think of killing Neal for the scars he's left behind on Emma (and Walsh, too, technically). God, he doesn't know what he'll do if he ever sees that bastard, especially in public. He'd want to throw a punch at him, scream and shout at the top of his lungs for hurting her, but that'd cause a ruckus of drama, affect his reputation, and put him in a setback - it just wouldn't be Killian Jones speaking. Not a favourable outcome to consider.

He figures some self-motivation will help.

It's still early in the morning, so he changes into some comfy clothes and goes for a run. He opts taking the longer route, just so it can push away the nerves and frustration that wanders inside of his mind, the many possibilities of how to get back in contact with Emma.

Music helps with the running. Mainly just a mix of soulful instrumentals, keeping his brain distracted and busy.

He pushes on until his calves ache, until he's dying for a breath, until he drops onto the first surface when he's back at the house.

He showers again and ends up in there under the heated water for a long time, feeling the sorrow course through his blood, the frustration with the lack of trust she still has in him, that they can make things work yet she feels the opposite, that they'll fail. Killian wants to prove her wrong in all the possible ways, that everything could work out if she'd leave her trust and belief in him, in them, but clearly she still struggles with the notion of trust.

Misery.

Pathetic, really, he shouldn't sulk around, wallow in pain, drown himself in rum. It doesn't make anything any better than it already is on current circumstances. Victim he may be to heartbreak, his heart isn't broken, just undetermined at the moment, unsure of what stance he should take on the issue. He won't be deterred from his current goal, however.

Unless...

Well, maybe he'll be able to do some convincing after all.

.~.

"Hey, Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"Think you could help a mate out with a favour?" he asks, pacing back and forth.

David sighs. "I think I know what you want."

"Ah, then..."

"Sure. I'll call the other two and tell them about your plan."

"Thanks.

.~.

Ultimately, his plans are delayed by a week, but the moment he's boarding a flight down to Boston, there's nothing else on his mind except the idea of finding Emma (he knows where she lives, not like that's an issue), and finally convincing her that he's not going to simply give up on her.

Despite it sounding like a simple plan, he knows it's not simple to execute, not when Emma has her unyielding opinion.

This isn't child's play.

He goes to Ruby's bar first, or well, where Emma's working.

"Killian?"

"Ruby," he greets with a small smile, "is Emma here?"

"Her shift ended already, she left about an hour ago to go back to her apartment," she tells him with an apologetic look. "Please tell me you're here to win her back, she's been miserable for this past month and I haven't been able to convince her of much."

Solemnly nodding at the news he'd had already guessed, he clenches his jaw. "She wanted to break up."

"What? Emma didn't tell me that," Ruby exclaims, face scrunched up in distaste. "Damn the woman knows how to run from problems... but did you break up?"

"I - well, that's where the confusion comes in, lass. I tried to convince her. I would tell her how much I love her, but god knows how much that'd scare her away further." He sighs, scratching behind his ear as he recalls their conversation. "Said she was sorry before she hung up on me, but not for one second have I believed for us to be a part. A disagreement, yes, and I would've come sooner, but time has been a pain in the arse recently."

"Go get her."

He bobs his head once as a nod before turning around, waving a goodbye. "Aye, I will. Thank you, Ruby."

He signs some autographs and takes some pictures when he gets out of his rented car outside of her apartment, the one where he helped her move in to. He doesn't need to buzz in when someone keeps the door open for him, the guard there aware he pays visits sometimes - makes things less complex.

Impatient as he is already, he is suddenly too afraid to knock on her door when he's standing before it. But he does it anyways. Three quick knocks before he hears shuffling from the other side. She can see him three the peep hole and ignore him, he's fully aware of that, but he's persistent. He wills it outside and wait for her if need be (but he dearly hopes it doesn't have to come down to that, he's not very fond of sitting on the ground waiting for hours before she leaves the haven of her apartment).

The door swings open as he shoves his hands into his jeans pockets, a little shocked at how wrecked she currently appears. There's a storm beneath her green eyes, the colour dull. There's a sense of fatigue taking over her, her shoulders a little slumped, faint lines beneath her eyes indicating bags from lack of sleep... he hates this look on her.

"Go away," she grumbles before attempting to close the door on him.

He pushes forward, keeping the door open before forcing himself inside. "No," he responds firmly, closing the door behind him before he turns to look at her. "No, I'm not leaving, Emma, not now, not in the near future." He presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth before taking a step forward, closing the distance. "I'm in this for the long haul, you should know that. I wouldn't have entered a relationship like this if I was just in for fun and games, love."

"What don't you get, Killian? I'm going to hurt you in the end and I'm going to end up being thrown away at some point because you'll get tired of me." Uncertainty shines from within her eyes, the glow of betrayal and pain arising. "If Neal and Walsh didn't want me, what makes you any different?"

The words don't even sting, there's no point to them, no poison to hurt him. "Those men are at loss, then!" he shouts, finally. He notices her tiny wince at the rise of his voice. "I'm not Neal, I'm not Walsh. I'm not some bloke who wants to bed you and leave, take advantage of you and throw away the trust you put in me," he says, softening the tone of his voice. "I'm not even supposed to be here, but I worked something out with Dave for two days, two days to try and fix things between us, two days so I could come here and persuade you, prove to you, that I only want you - not another woman I could pick out off the streets, not another woman from the bloody bar. Just you."

"I don't -"

"Bloody hell," he mutters to stop her from continuing with her petty reasons. "Listen to me." He brings his hands up to her shoulders with a firm grip. "What's wrong, darling? What's really wrong?"

She visibly gulps, but she doesn't answer, averting her gaze away from him.

Removing one hand from her shoulder, he lifts his finger beneath her chin to guide her face back to his. "What happened?" he asks quietly, his thumb pressed into the familiar dent in her chin. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion and wonder, the type which he's worried gravely for her.

"Neal," she finally admits softly, too softly - like she's broken beyond repair (not that she is). "He found me."

"He came to see you?"

She shrugs. "Doesn't take much of a brain to find me."

"Then when are you going to talk about it?" he inquires, beginning to push her over the line. It's the only way anything's ever going to escape out of her mouth by this point. Without the encouragement (not the best kind, to be honest), she's never going to tell him. "You know keeping it inside of you forever isn't a healthy solution."

She scoffs. "Yes, like I have any other choice, huh?"

"You do." He takes another step forward, invading any personal space she originally had before his face is up close to hers. "Me. You can talk about it with me." Hesitantly, he brings his hand up to cup her cheek gently, very gently, practically ghosting over her soft skin. "I want you... I want you to stop hiding behind those damned walls of yours and put your trust in me, even if it's too hard for you to do. I will cherish and value whatever trust and belief you can give, no matter how little it may be."

"I don't know," she breathes out, barely audible and shaky, warmth of her breath against his skin.

He forces up a small smile, one meant to be genuine. "I know you can do it, Swan." Slowly, he brushes his lips over hers, just a little bit. "I've always believed in you. I've yet to see you fail."

Now, he's done. He's done with pushing her over the edge, he's made his points to her, said them loud and clear, hoping that she'll gain her senses back and listen to her gut.

It's a single tear that drops, before she presses herself into him, arms wrapping around his torso tightly. He sighs, a little bit of relief and contentment, before he snakes his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "What did he do to you?" he mumbles into her hair, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing patterns up and down her spine.

"Not do... it's what he said."

She's not ready yet, he thinks, hearing how her voice is strained, how she still tenses in his arms at the mention of Neal. "Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you like to go on a date with me - tomorrow?"

"Really?" she asks, pulling back and looking up at him. "You're asking me out on a date tomorrow night?"

He nods. "Well if I'm to court the fair lady, I've got to do it properly - a date is a good place to start fresh, aye?" His lips turn into a grin as he speaks, noticing her eyes brighten up and her posture relax. "Besides, I think it's time we go out for a bit. I've spent enough time around Boston to plan an evening out and I could care less if we're seen in public and thrown all over the internet."

"Okay," she murmurs, "I guess it wouldn't hurt."

Smiling, he winks. "Of course it wouldn't, you're with me."

"I'll hold you to that, Jones."

"I'd expect nothing less from you, love."

.~.

She's sound asleep on his shoulder, the TV still flashing scenes of a movie they've long forgotten. He scrolls through his feed on Twitter to find that images have been released of him being spotted in Boston - if anyone is aware of their relationship, they should be able to guess he's come to see Emma, despite the tight schedule of working on the new album and trying to arrange a more worldwide second tour.

He takes the time to respond to a couple of fans on Twitter while he can.

It's easy to ignore many tweets or just general comments directed toward him, and what angers him is the rudeness of people who comment against Emma. He loves this woman despite any distance or arguments they have, and in the end he doesn't want to tolerate any sort of hate against this woman. Emma Swan is a marvel - brilliant singing voice and piano skills, lovely personality, but has gone through the pain of experiences that shaped her with her own flaws. If someone publically posts hate against her, he will block them - but never does he respond to give them attention.

Luckily, many of his followers are loyal fans who are kind and respectful - that means everything to him. He's as human as everyone else, so is Emma, and just because he's "famous," doesn't mean he wants to be treated differently from any other human being; which similarly, it applies to Emma as well.

Maybe after responding to five people, he notices Emma's breathing pattern shift and her eyes crack open.

"Hey," she huffs, lifting her head from his shoulder, "I fell asleep, didn't I?"

"Aye, but only for an hour."

"Better than none, I guess." She yawns, rubbing her eyes like a child. "I think it's about time I head to bed."

Clearing his throat, he nods in agreement. "I best get back to the hotel," he declares, standing up from the couch. Before he's about to leave, she grabs his hand. "What is it, love?"

"You can stay... if you want," she offers, her cheeks turning an adorable pink.

He smiles and shakes his head, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead. "Tempting offer, Swan, but I've got a date to plan so I may as well head back tonight instead of dealing with traffic tomorrow morning."

"Okay. See you tomorrow then."

"I'll text you the details as soon as I can so you can be prepared." He hugs her one last time. "Sleep well, darling."

"Yeah," she murmurs, " you too."

.~.

Though he does get the date planned out at a nearby bistro by the boardwalk, he's a little nervous. It's been awhile since he's taken her out on anything considerably close to a date due to their constrictions with distances, but there's always a little bit of nervousness.

Killian: I'll come pick you up at 6:30?

Emma: Okay. Any clothing specifications?

Killian: Nothing fancy, love, stick with casual with a tiny bit of flare. (:

When David calls on about how it's going, Killian tells him about his plans. Tells him how it took quite a bit of convincing (leaving out the fact he basically shouted at her a little) before they quietly watched a movie until slumber came for her. Tells him about his plans to take her for an evening out tonight, and even utters a word or two about this nervous flutter inside his stomach.

It's times like these when he's glad on having a rented car to save the trouble of having to escort a woman through a taxi. Even better that his windows are tinted a darker colour just so people don't see him through there and decide to spread rumours - not like they haven't been spread already.

The drive to Emma's apartment is already like routine, he's very much used to it.

He's in a blue sweater with a black tie tucked beneath and a pair of navy blue jeans. Plus, sunglasses, to well… disguise himself partially. He doesn't usually wear a tie or sweater, but for this moment, this date, he's opted to it.

Grabbing the bouquet of flowers, he heads inside and buzzes in, only to find the door open before he has much to say. Emma knows of his punctuality, she doesn't even need to worry about talking to him ahead of time. He slides his glasses on the collar of his shirt while waiting in the elevator. It's a relieving thing to know most of her apartment neighbours don't seem to leave the house too often, leaving the elevator mostly empty every time he rides it up to the eleventh floor.

A minute later he's a her floor, strolling through her hallway, and knocking on her door. He hears the shuffle behind.

She's in a casual dress, but it's still - she's still - beautiful. "Swan," he breathes, shaking his head gently, "you look bloody gorgeous."

He notices the red rise to her cheeks and the tips of her ears, and he finds it somewhat adorable that she blushes to his compliments. He'll need to find it more in him to compliment her more often to see that regular occurrence.

"You look very nice yourself," she comments, biting her lower lip. "So, shall we get going?"

"Ah," he hums, bringing one hand up to stop her. "Not so fast, love, I've got to give you -" he brings one hand from behind him to show her the flowers "- this first. Though I didn't know what flowers you prefer, so I took a bit of everything I possibly could."

"Wow," she huffs, taking the bouquet from him, "thank you. Let me go put them in a vase of water quickly."

He leans against the door frame and waits. He's been in her apartment enough times to know where things are, how the place is laid out. The living room straight ahead, the kitchen to the left, hallway for one bedroom and a washroom to the right. Honestly, it's a simple apartment, a little modern, and not expensive, everything just in the range she wanted. A lack of sentimental items, however, and he's adept to recognize that.

However, he doesn't judge her for that. She doesn't have much in the first place, he just hopes to bring more for her future.

"Alright," she announces, "let's go."

He smiles and nods. "Aye, let's get going."


Things are looking at getting better for these two, but the threat is still looming over her head a little, things yet to be admitted. But I can tell you we'll have at least one chapter of fluff and good times before any of that gets here. By the way, I don't thank you guys enough! I really appreciate the reviews you guys leave, it really does make my day brighter!