She had to stop drinking with him, Emma thought, rolling over and repositioning the pillow under her head. It was just too easy to say things when your senses were numb from alcohol.

She used to be able to handle it, back when they were in college. They used to drink together all the time at the bar while playing pool or darts or listening to the bands. It had never been an issue (well, only once, a small voice whispered in her ear).

But now, she couldn't keep her thoughts in her head where they were supposed to be. Maybe it was due to the long separation or maybe it was because every time he touched her now, her traitorous brain immediately flew to the memory of that night two years ago.

Whatever the reason… She had to stop drinking with him. She shuddered to think what might have popped out of her mouth if David hadn't interrupted when he did. She'd been on the verge of telling him everything.

But who could blame her after an evening like that? she thought as she groaned and flipped onto her back, huffing out a breath.

It had been so… perfect.

From the moment she walked into the living room and saw him standing there – looking dashing and dangerous in his dark blue shirt and black vest – it had been absolutely perfect.

Almost like a date.

He'd always been the type to open doors and the like (she didn't think she'd ever even touched a door handle while he was around), but last night...

Last night, he'd helped her with her coat, pulling her hair out of the collar as he did so, his hand grazing her neck in the process, making her feel light-headed… And he'd led her to their table, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back, making her feel cherished…. Then he'd pulled out her chair for her, his eyes dancing with amusement, making her feel giddy.

Really? How was a woman supposed to keep her wits about her when faced with that kind of treatment?

Then he had insisted on buying a bottle of champagne. She had tried to refuse, but his flirty, "Afraid you won't be able to resist me after a few libations, love?" comment had been a challenge she couldn't back down from. Smiling ruefully to herself, she realized just how right he had been.

The whole night had been a test of her self-control, their knees and arms brushing from time to time until she was practically vibrating with hormones and lust, and it had taken everything in her to keep from running her hand down his arm, or wiping that damn smudge of chocolate from his lips.

And when he'd fed her that bite of his dessert…. his blue eyes bluer that usual because of that damn shirt he was wearing and his eyes focused on her lips as he delicately laid the fork into her mouth, then pulled it out slowly, his adam's apple bobbing as he met her eyes and -

Really?

If it had been a date, it would have been the best one she'd ever had – by a considerably large margin.

So was it any wonder that while she was reeling from all that – plus the added buzz of a few libations – that her mouth ran away from her?

Thank God, David interrupted when he did.

She sighed in frustration and turned back to her other side. It was way too early to be awake. She needed to get more sleep. This was the second night in a row that she'd tossed and turned, her vivid dreams waking her in the middle of the night, leaving her body burning and unsatisfied.

She needed to get out of his bed – hell, she needed to get out of this apartment – find her own place where she didn't strain to hear any movement he made, where the sheets didn't smell of him and glide across her skin the way she craved his body to, where her things weren't mixed together with his on the vanity in the bathroom, making it too easy to pretend that there was more between them than there was.

Last night had been a beautiful fantasy but she lived in reality. And in reality, they were friends. And she wasn't going to risk losing his friendship again by complicating it with sex. They'd made that mistake already and she'd lost two years with him because of it.

Eventually, she heard movement coming from around the apartment and realized that someone else was up. She dressed and carefully opened the bedroom door, wincing when the hinges squeaked. She made her way silently down the hall and saw Killian fast asleep on the couch. Her breath caught in her lungs as she tip-toed by him and made her way to the kitchen.

She entered just as David leaned down to place a soft kiss on Mary Margaret's lips as he said in a hushed voice, "Have a good day. I love you."

"Love you, too," she whispered back.

They smiled at each other for another moment and it struck Emma just how incredible the two of them were together. The bond between them was so strong and beautiful. They just fit… like it was destined in the stars or something. But the most amazing thing about them was how they both just knew it. There had never been a doubt, right from the start, that they were perfect for each other. Emma wondered what it must be like to have that kind of faith in someone. To just know, without question, that they would always be there.

The couple released each other and David turned to go, finally noticing Emma standing in the doorway. He gave her a sweet smile as he passed and kissed her on the temple. "You ladies have fun apartment hunting today," he told them before he disappeared through the door.

Emma made her way to the coffeepot as Mary Margaret busied herself with the toaster.

"I hope you don't mind but I looked through the paper already and found some apartments close by," Mary Margaret said and motioned to the paper sitting on the table.

Emma smiled, "The closer the better," she replied.

"Excellent," she said, "I've got the dinner shift tonight, but we should be able to make it to several before I go in. I can be dressed and ready in thirty minutes," and with that she picked up her toast and headed out of the kitchen.

Emma grabbed the other piece of toast and her coffee cup. As she sat down at the table to eat she heard noises coming from the living room. Killian had obviously awoken and she held her breath. She couldn't decide if it was fear or excitement that had her tied up in knots as she listened carefully to ascertain whether he would come get his coffee before or after his shower. She heard his footsteps receding down the hall and realized that his shower came first.

Emma finished off her breakfast and headed back to Killian's room. He was still in the bathroom from the sound of it, so she sat down on his bed to put on her boots. As she was zipping up her first boot, she heard the bathroom door open and the sound of his footsteps approaching and her heart jumped to her throat. For a moment she considered fleeing from the room, one boot on and one boot off, but she thought better of it, realizing that would probably look suspicious.

A moment later, Killian walked through the door, nothing but a towel flung around his hips and another lifted to his head as he rubbed it against his wet hair. He stopped dead at the sight of her, a wicked grin crossing his face.

Emma stood quickly. Then, realizing she hadn't zipped up her second boot, dropped back down to the bed and averted her eyes from his, saying, "Sorry, I'll get out of your way."

"No hurry, love. I would never rush a beautiful woman from my bed."

She focused her attention on zipping up her boot, making a display of straightening the leg of her pants as she tried to gather her wits. She finally looked back over, her mouth opened to make a witty comeback, but the words never made it past her lips. He had silently moved to within arm's length of her, his body so close that he probably felt the rush of air that left her lungs. Her eyes landed on his chest. She tried not to look – but it was right there for goodness sakes and her temperature spiked as her eyes traced a drop of water that was making its way down the center through the dark swath of hair until it disappeared into –

Her eyes sprang to his grinning face. He'd obviously noticed her reaction (really, how could he have missed it) and he took another step toward her, tossing the towel in his hand on the bed, saying, "See something you like, Swan?"

Her mouth went suddenly dry, causing her to lick her lips and she felt the heat rushing to her cheeks as she craned her neck to meet his eyes. The way he was looking at her… That slightly cocky grin and those bright blue eyes. He was so frustratingly handsome, his hair shooting up in complete disarray, all wet and gorgeous. Her breath caught in her throat as he stood there, waiting for her to speak.

After another moment, he chuckled lightly and asked, "Have I rendered you speechless, Emma?"

"No," she said and stood quickly. The movement almost had their upper bodies touching and she took an automatic step back. He immediately took a step toward her again. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice a little sharper than she intended.

"I need to get to my closet," he said innocently, pointing a finger over her shoulder. The humor was gone from his voice but the grin still in place.

"Oh, right, sorry," she said and turned to press the back of her legs into the bed to give him room. She held up her hands as he slid past her and determinedly kept her eyes on the ceiling (no matter how much she wanted to look down). His cologne washed over her and she swore she could actually feel the heat coming off his body.

She continued to watch him, paralyzed with lust, as he rummaged around in the closet for a shirt and pulled one out. Knowing she was staring again, she quickly turned away and busied herself with shutting her suitcase and pushing it back into the corner.

When she turned back, he'd already laid out all of his clothes on the bed and was reaching for the towel around his hip. She quickly looked away again saying, "I'll just… be in the kitchen," before beating a hasty exit from the room.

As she walked away, she realized that running down the hall with only one boot on would have been far less embarrassing.

She sat at the table and was looking over the apartment listings that Mary Margaret had circled for her when he entered and grabbed the makings for his cereal. She kept her eyes on the paper as he joined her, afraid he would make a comment on her embarrassing display in his room, but instead he asked, "What are your plans today, Swan?"

"Apartment hunting," she replied, relieved.

"Ah, and I see Mary Margaret has already selected a few possibilities," he said, gesturing toward the newspaper, "Now I understand why she'd been looking. I thought she and David were thinking of getting their own place."

Emma gave him a confused look and asked, "When exactly did she look at all of these?"

"About a week ago, I believe," he said pouring milk onto his Fruit Loops.

"I didn't know if I had the job a week ago," she said.

"Maybe not, but you were already planning on moving, right? So what difference does it make? I'm sure she was just hoping for the best."

Emma smiled and nodded, "Yeah, that sounds like her."

"Speaking of…" Killian said keeping his eyes on his spoon and clearing his throat, "You haven't told me why you decided to come back – and don't say you just wanted to… I know you better than that. And I know there's more to it."

He turned to her as he spoke, his eyes concerned, and she was instantly caught once again in his gaze. The sincerity and earnestness in his eyes had always been her undoing. The look that said she could talk to him, that she could tell him anything. It had nothing to do with alcohol, she realized. It was just him.

When she continued to stare at him mutely, he angled his chair toward her and prodded gently, "What happened, Emma?"

"Nothing happened," she heard herself say, "I realized something."

"What was that?"

She stared hard at him for a minute, biting at her lower lip. Should she tell him? She came back for him. She came back because she realized she was nothing without him. All of her confidence, all of her drive, was a direct result of his faith in her and she needed him in her life. And it wasn't even because she was madly in love with him. She needed his friendship. She drew her strength from him. She'd been flailing around in life until he showed up, making one stupid decision after another (Neal being the biggest of them all). But he'd been there for her, calling Neal a 'bloody fool' and a 'blasted idiot' and holding her hand while David talked to the detective.

He'd been her rock, her savior, her confidante. He'd made her see the good in herself after a lifetime of being pushed down, ignored, taken advantage of. He'd brought her back from the ledge with his quiet faith and reassuring presence.

"It was…" Tears stung her eyes and she looked at him imploringly, wanting to tell him but terrified of what he would say.

When she didn't continue, he coaxed again, "It was what, darling?"

The endearment warmed her, oozing through her body and soothing her nerves as he gently lifted his hand, wiped the tear from her cheek (she knew he would) and whispered achingly, "Emma, whatever it is, you can tell me."

The softly spoken statement caused another tear to fall but it was tender look he gave her, so full of concern and worry and acceptance, that made the words fall from her mouth. "It was you," she whispered.

His hand lowered to the table and he sat up taller in his chair, drawing a deep breath, looking like she'd hit him over the head with a hammer and she rushed on.

"I needed you… our friendship. The way you were always there, encouraging me. I didn't have that in Chicago," she told him, taking in his shocked expression as his eyes widened, "I had friends. Some of them really great… but they weren't you. They didn't notice when I was upset and trying to hide it. They didn't refill my glass when it was empty or know how to make me laugh," she paused to clear her throat as her voice cracked and she looked away, staring down at the newspaper in her hand, the words on the page blurred through her tears. When he didn't speak she continued, careful to keep her eyes in front of her. She had to get the rest out. She had to say it now or she'd lose her nerve. "You're my best friend, Killian. And all the time I was gone, whenever I felt alone, I'd think of you. I could hear your voice in my head telling me that everything would be okay, everything would work out. Then about three months ago, your voice started fading. I needed you and… I was too scared to call. Too afraid that you wouldn't want to talk to me but - "

She was suddenly and almost violently pulled to her feet and into his arms, her head cradled on his chest as he pressed his lips into her hair, "I always want to talk to you, Swan. Always," he said, his voice rough and strained as he crushed her to him. Then, pulling back to look at her, he lifted her chin so that she was forced to look into his eyes, so full of regret and sadness, as he added, "You're my best friend, too, and I was wrong not to call. I'm sorry. I should have, I just - "

"Don't," she said, hearing the ragged pain in his voice and wanting to sooth it. Blinking away the last of her tears, she reached up and smoothed her thumb over his brow, "I was the one that should have called but - it's okay, now. I'm home. And we're okay. And everything can go back - "

A muffled sob from the doorway broke the intense moment and had them both spinning to see Mary Margaret wiping at her eyes and saying, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, I promise, and I didn't mean to interrupt but…" she motioned between the two of them as she trailed off with a watery smile and shrug of her shoulders.

"It's okay," Emma said, smiling back at her as her body relaxed. The tension left Killian's body as well as one of his hands lifted to tuck her cheek back into his chest and she snuggled into his warmth. His chin settled on her head and he rocked her slowly.

The embrace was comforting and the last of the tension in her shoulders drained away. She closed her eyes and relished it for a moment as relief flooded her system and left her giddy. A light chuckle escaped her mouth as she rubbed her cheek into his chest before looking back to Mary Margaret.

"We should probably get moving," she said then raised her eyes to Killian's, "We can talk tonight?"

He was smiling at her, the relief plain on his face as he lifted his hand, pushed her hair over her shoulder, then rested it on her cheek, "Of course we can," he said and leaned forward to press a long kiss to her forehead. He hugged her tight one more time, and added, "See you tonight, love."

K&EK&EK&E

Killian didn't know how he was going to make it through the day.

She'd come back because of him. She'd missed him. Her confession played itself over and over again in his head as he tried to get at least some work done.

She'd been sitting there, so tense, her face full of apprehension and fear just before her whispered confession and he'd been so worried. He'd wanted to help, to wipe the sadness from her face.

Whatever it is, Swan, you can tell me.

He, never in a million years, would have guessed what her next words would be.

It was you.

His heart slammed into his ribs again at the memory. The shock that had gone through him as he realized that the thing she feared was him. She was crying because of him. He'd listened as she continued, taking in every word.

Whenever I felt alone, I'd think of you.

I could hear your voice in my head.

You're my best friend, Killian.

Your voice started fading.

I was too afraid to call.

And that's when he'd broken, the moment he couldn't just listen any longer. So he pulled her into his arms and held her close, his heart breaking over the pain he'd caused. He'd wanted to apologize and tell her everything but she'd stopped him with her gentle touch and he realized that she was just as sorry as he was. That she didn't blame him. They'd both been fools, insecure and scared and idiots.

I'm home now.

The joy that had flooded through him at her words made his breath hitch. She was home. She was staying. And with a little time, he'd convince her that they belonged together. He knew she might be hesitant at first but he would methodically work to knock down the walls around her heart until she let him in.

The first hurdle had already been crossed.

You're my best friend, Killian.

Her best friend. It wasn't a declaration of love, but hearing her say it had gone straight to his heart. Add that to her reaction to him in the bedroom and he was sure… She loved him. She might not know it yet and she'd probably fight it every step of the way but he was a patient man.

They'd talk tonight. And this time, there would be no interruptions. Mary Margaret was working and he'd just gotten a text from David saying that he had to interview a witness and it could be late by the time he got home.

He didn't know how he was going to make it through the day.