A/N: What's this? An actual update? I know, I'm shocked as well. If you're reading this, you're an absolute gem. Who knew graduating college, moving by myself across the country and entering an intensive teacher training institute would be so time consuming? But writing this is keeping me sane, so updating may even happen again! Maybe even soon! I love you all.

Killian was nervous. He wasn't nervous about breaking things off with Annabelle; she was young and beautiful—she would recover quickly. Finding another willing partner in Boston would be easy. He wasn't nervous about her throwing a drink in his face either, she was too kind. She always tried to bring happiness to others.

Killian was nervous he would cause her pain. That somehow, despite his constant rehearsing and tight-lipped tendencies, Annabelle would see the reason in his eyes or hear the truth in his voice. The truth was he never got over Emma, and couldn't stop thinking about her now. Feeling like a second choice was awful, and he wanted to avoid that for Annabelle if possible. None of this was her fault.

Killian walked into the bar anticipating he would be the first to arrive, but for once Annabelle was early. Her blonde curls were piled atop her head and she wore a trademark tight dress with sky high shoes. It was remarkable how quickly perception could change. A few weeks ago Killian would have drank in her appearance with a lustful gaze, now he was counting down the moments until he could leave and return to his apartment.

"Hello, Annabelle," he said after clearing his throat.

"Killian!" she recognized his voice and sprang up to envelop him in a short, friendly hug. Her arms only reached his chest.

Something was off—this was bubbly even by Annabelle's usual standards. The greeting felt like two old friends coincidentally finding each other in a crowded, public place.

They sat down and Killian racked his brain trying to figure out where the formality was coming from. Maybe you're imagining it.

Killian noted Annabelle's nearly empty martini glass, meaning she had been here a while. "You're early," he pointed out.

Her high laugh chimed. "I know. I just… wanted time to think." Annabelle's smile faded and she swirled her glass, consuming its leftover contents. Killian arched his eyebrow.

"It's… You're great, Killian." She said suddenly, taking his hand in her own. "Really, really great."

Killian winked. "Thanks, love."

Annabelle breathed out a heavy sigh, her small fingers sweating as they wrapped around Killian's right palm. "You see, there's just this… this…. Well this other guy. And he works at the suit shop next to me, and we've been friends for a while, but I swear I never saw anything coming. Me and you haven't seen each other really for three weeks and he's really been there. I haven't even hung out with him by ourselves, but…" she trailed off and smiled. "I really like him, Killian. And I like you too! It's been so fun, what we've been doing. But I always feel like you're not fully there, or I don't know, the real you. Not that this is your fault—"

Killian could have laughed out loud he was so happy. "Annabelle, lass, it's fine. I know how you feel. I was coming here to say the same thing." Her tense, perfectly manicured eyebrows relaxed.

"You were? Oh thank god," she said. Annabelle motioned to the bartender to bring her another round.

"I'm happy you're interested in someone, he sounds perfect for you."

"Well, he is my age," she teased. Her joke reminded him of Emma and her aversion to Tinkerbelle; he grinned. In all honesty, Annabelle was a bit immature and young for him, but she had been so easy to forget about himself and his past with.

"Well done," Killian nodded approvingly and ordered a whiskey.

"And you didn't meet someone," Annabelle added as the bartender pushed a tumbler Killian's way. He stayed silent. "You still want Emma."

"Aye. You're a perceptive one."

Annabelle rolled her eyes. "It wasn't a great mystery. I could have moved past it for now, but I'm sure if we had ever gotten more serious it would have stood in the way." She was right.

"Everyone deserves a shot at their happy ending," she said smiling. "No matter what their past. Especially at true love." That was Annabelle in a nut shell, optimistic despite the fact she was sitting here with an ex, and a true believer in all things good. Killian could see how Emma procured a fairy nick name for her. He knew in the long run that clash of personality would have been fatal, but he hoped she never lost the sparkle; there was already too much darkness in the world.

"To happy endings," Killian raised his glass.

"Hear, hear."

Emma went to the gym before Killian left to meet Tinkerbelle. She knew if she watched him get ready jealousy would rear its ugly head, not that she had any claim to him. Yet.

The memory of last night's kiss brought fire to her veins. With Graham, and with the nameless others since her and Killian's break up, it had never been like that, never so consuming. She punched the pace on her treadmill up, needing to run out her extra energy.

Killian told her of his plans to completely cut ties with Tinkerbelle, but there was the dark part of Emma's mind, the one that was primarily responsible for their break up in the first place, that told her he would choose the other woman instead. Her thoughts whispered her short comings and choked her with their doubt. She adjusted the speed again.

By now, Emma was sprinting and the negativity was drowned by her body's insistent demand for oxygen. After a few minutes, she cut off the machine and slowed to a walk. She felt exhausted but powerful. Stop being ridiculous, she told herself. Killian had always been a man of his word, a man of honor; despite what Graham said.

Emma hoped the trip home and her shower would fill Killian's absence, but the apartment still lay motionless by the time she put on her pajamas. Her internal clock pulled her eyelids shut more and more every moment, even though it was early for a Saturday night. Her bodily soreness didn't help; her bruises had fully developed, with many deep purplish spots on her body.

Emma climbed under her comforter and decided she would just nap until she heard the door open…

She was in the middle of the woods on an old dirt road. There was a high pitched whistle in the distance, and seeing no other choice, Emma started walking toward it. After a few minutes, she came to a pair of rusty train tracks. There was no crossing light or safety bar to block cars, merely a wooden sign that read STOP. LOOK. LISTEN.

The whistle was growing louder, and Emma stepped closer to the tracks, trying to figure out which way the train was coming. Eventually, she spotted the lights approaching on her left side. The train was moving rather slowly, setting a steady pace.

She smiled as the first car went by and Emma smiled, liking the feeling of the wind on her face. The parade of cars lasted a few minutes, until the old fashioned red caboose could be seen. There was a porch on the back, like she had seen in so many movies.

Emma was prepared to turn around and explore the woods more when she heard her name.

"Emma, run!"

She looked up to see Killian standing on the back of the train, his right hand extended. He looked panicked. Without thinking, her feet sped up and she started running in between the two parallel strips of metal with her hand out in front of her.

But now the train was picking up its speed. Every time she willed her legs to go faster, the train went faster as well.

"Hurry, Emma!"

She screamed out to force her body to move, but night was falling. She was only following the train by the glint of metal in the moonlight, and the trees were no longer edging the sides, but invading her space. Extended branches whipped at her cheeks and bit shallowly into her skin.

"Cummon, Emma!"

Each cry from Killian made her try harder, only to be met with more obstacles. She wanted to quit and sob, but she couldn't. She had to reach him.

Killian ended up staying at the bar longer than he anticipated. His original plan was to be out in a half hour, expecting a dejected Annabelle to sulk off or curse his company. But now that the playing field was even, he didn't want to shrug off her willingly offered friendship or slight her by cutting off the conversation. Granted, the chat was primarily one sided with her going on and on about Peter (the other man) and asking for male advice, but it had been nice just the same.

Luckily, it was only 10:00 on a Saturday. He estimated Emma would be awake and waiting for him. His heart sank when the apartment was silent, wondering if she nipped over to Ruby's bar or went out for the night. His brain flashed images of them a few weekends ago, Graham's hands gripping her body. Stop, he commanded himself.

Killian was about to turn around and check the usual spots when he heard it. A whimper. His eyebrows furrowed and he crossed the living room in six large steps to get to Emma's bedroom threshold. The light from the main room poured in and he could see her lying in her bed.

Emma's eyes were shut tightly, too tightly, to be in a peaceful slumber. There was also a light sheen of sweat on her forehead and he could see her feet twitching or moving slightly under the blanket.

Killian's face blanched; she was having a night mare, night terror, whatever the proper term may be. She had them for majority of their relationship, but he had hoped her slumbers weren't plagued by them for all these years.

The comforting came back so naturally. Killian kicked off his shoes and climbed on the bed next to her. He put his good hand gently, but firmly, on Emma's arm and rubbed circles. He slid his left arm under her neck, pulling her into his chest. "Shhh," he whispered. "Emma, you're okay. It's all right. It's a dream, just a dream."

Slowly she came too and looked up at him through bleary eyes. His heart broke seeing the panic and anxiety, but as she took in her surroundings Emma's gaze softened. Her arms circled Killian in return and she tucked her head under his chin. "That's it," he soothed, running his fingers through her hair.

Killian saw the singular candle on her bedside table and smiled wryly. He always lit a candle when he pulled her out of night terrors in their past relationship to chase away the dark thoughts; it was the same one. There was a little book of matches next to it, which he managed to light with his right hand and ignite the wick.

Emma pulled back and looked over at the candle, a soft smile appeared on her face.

"Have you had those nightmares all these years, love?" Killian looked pained.

"No," she said, finally finding her voice. "I haven't lit the candle ever. They went away a few months after. This is the first one since."

Killian felt guilty. Was he the trigger of her anxious thoughts? Was he the reason Emma was plagued with darkness? She left you for a reason, his thoughts chided.

Emma could sense his tension. "They only come when I want to run. When I feel like things are too good to be true. I want to run because I care about you, Killian. I never stopped. And that's the reason I'm staying put."

His eyes were on her face intently now, soaking in her boldness. Emma from four years ago would have shrugged off the vision, skipping details and ignoring his questions. She would have felt too guilty for baring her troubles, which was absurd. It was a sign of her growth that she was able to tackle a conversation about her insecurities head on. A sign of her strength. Strength which she had built by herself, and Killian felt a fierce swell of pride.

The energy needed to go somewhere. He took his hand resting on her hip and moved it to pull her face to his. His lips sought hers eagerly, dying to prove his very real existence and feelings.

Emma was surprised when Killian's kiss was so enthusiastic, but she quickly matched his vigor. "I missed you," he whispered reverently into her neck as he sucked his way down the tender flesh of her neck.

"I missed you too," Emma said, momentarily embarrassed by the breathy quality of her voice. However, when Killian's teeth lightly raked below her ear, she stopped caring. How was it better than she remembered? Their sexual memories had been the most difficult to shake over the past few years, and they were still dim by comparison. He paused when he reached her collar bone, met again with the dark mark from her sparring the day before. His fingers left her lower back and traced the edges gently. The sight must have proved as a reminder of her pain, because Killian instantly relaxed his grip and slowed his lips. He left a few feather light pecks before bobbing his head back up and kissing Emma's forehead.

"Sorry, love. I got carried away."

"Don't apologize for that," Emma said, still breathing more heavily than usual. Killian chuckled.

"Seeing how much you've grown, it's incredible, Emma." She knew what he meant. She had become self-aware and capable of dealing with her anxieties.

She colored under the intensity of his gaze. "Thank you," she mumbled.

"I'm also thrilled I can hold you again. And kiss you whenever I want," he said, his trademark smirk replaced by a full grin. His tenderness was infectious.

Emma kissed him once, a short embrace, before pulling in tightly to his side. It was almost eerie how well her body fit into his, almost too effortless.

"Are you tired, love?"

"Would saying yes make me the worst?"

Killian laughed again. "No, it would make you exactly the woman I know. I'll leave you to your slumber."

Killian started to pull away, not wishing to pressure Emma or communicate nonverbal intentions.

"Don't go," she whispered, digging her fingertips gently into his back. And just like that he was completely and utterly hers. It was almost pathetic how quickly he caved to her soft plea. He sunk back into his spot and held her close like he wanted to since that night on the couch which felt like ages ago.

He waited until she fell deeply asleep before blowing out the candle.

The next morning Emma rolled over and found the spot next to her cold. A slight panic set in, but she managed to talk herself down within a few seconds, which was especially easy when she smelt the bacon wafting in from the kitchen.

"Good morning," Killian greeted her with a kiss. He was in an undershirt and jeans, his hair deliciously disheveled.

"Dressed already?" Emma smiled, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

"Well some siren convinced me to stay in her bed last night and I never got the chance to change out of my denim."

"I'm sorry." Emma didn't seem sorry at all.

Killian pushed around some bacon before putting the spatula down and turning to put his hand and arm on Emma's hip. "Don't ever apologize for asking me to stay in your bed, love." He winked salaciously at her. Emma swatted his arm and rolled her eyes.

"Breakfast smells amazing," she commented, after a lingering kiss. He explained the little adjustments or enhancements he added to the traditionally standard breakfast items, his eyes lighting up like they always did when he was around food. Emma focused on the incandescent grin on his face and couldn't help the one that blossomed on hers as well.

"Sorry, did I get caught up talking about the food again?"

"Only a bit," she teased.

It was worth it. Every bite was perfectly balanced and creative. "I was thinking," Killian said after he cleaned his place and wiped his face. "That I should probably ask you on a date."

It seemed silly, after all they had been through. The only "date" they really went on was their first, at that little Italian place back on the coast of California when she was a waitress and he was on holiday. Afterwards they were constantly with each other, doing things together and experiencing life. The old courting ritual didn't fit in back then. It didn't fit now either. They already lived together and had only a few weeks ago had been on a double date with other people.

Killian could sense the hesitation. "I know it seems a bit superfluous, but I'd like to make the right step in our new beginning. We never courted much before," he flashed her a grin. "We jumped in feet first, which was bloody amazing, but I would like to take the time to enjoy every moment this time around."

How could she deny his request? "All right, Mr. Killian Jones, what did you have in mind?"

"That's for me to know, love."