DOUBLE DIGIT CHAPTERS YEAH! Anyways, a lot of stuff goes down. Enjoy- this is a hella long chapter since I've slacked a bit earlier. :)
It's earth-shattering in her brain, everything is just a jumble of confusing thoughts, and she doesn't exactly know how to fight it. When she steps out of the apartment, she takes a deep breath of the polluted air (disgusting as hell,) and pushes herself to walk down the busy streets of New York. It's bustling, the crazy traffic, bright billboards and screens, lights shining and reflecting off the glass skyscrapers. Typical NY day.
The weather is humid but cool, and as she walks down, bumping into a person or two accidentally, she finds herself completely forgetting why she came out in the first place. Alone. That's right.
She strolls down, hands stuck in her pockets as her brain attacks her with so many thoughts she can't even keep track of. She can still remember the stain of crimson coloured blood on her hands, even the stench of the bitter taste of it as well. No matter how hard she tries to block it out, it makes it harder to let go, which means her mind thinks about it longer. Don't mention Killian either. Her feelings are strong toward him, magnetic even, but she needs time to process everything. She has a relationship she wants to feel dedicated too, but then if there's people coming after him or her left and right, what kind of moving on would that be? She reminds herself that she's still a damned criminal on the streets. Stealing from people's pockets, whether they be a small wallet, jewelry, or a purse.
She's been alone for her entire life, what's making her change her mind now?
The company is a possibility... But, the real answer to her question, which she knows, is that she thoroughly finds it enjoyable to have someone love and care for you, genuinely. In her case, Killian is really that pillar of support, that person who's already chosen to be with her regardless of the circumstances given. It's a satisfying feeling, because she's never felt it before. But with him, it literally emits off of him and his smug personality. At one moment he can be dead serious about killing a man, and the next he's protective and loving. There's so much depth in him that she wants to find herself learning about, but yet what if one day she wakes up and he's gone? What if she doesn't get the chance?
She refuses to give up on the little spark of hope inside her, but this grace of love she feels for him is both weakness and strength. She knows this, because at that moment when she stuck that knife into Pan, it was in terms of their survival. Ensuring she gets a chance with him, ensuring Killian had another chance at all of his life. When Killian got down on his knees, pleaded to not shoot her, something ignited within her to take action at the given opportunity.
Most of all, it was really and is the thought of losing him.
She's never known her parents, hell, never even bothered to go look for them. She's never made friends, she's made some encounters with a couple of nicer thieves, but they never last until they hop the path off to go find something better to do than talk or befriend her. She's never found interest in anything other than looking out for herself, and she's lost just about everything in her life. Almost everything.
And no matter how many times her mind goes to find something else to think about, it leads back to Killian, to the encounter with Pan, the horrible thoughts that got shoved in her brain the moment the tides turned for the slightest second. The sudden soreness she feels in the back of her neck makes her groan because now she wants to go back to bed, and she's far from the apartment by this point. She doesn't realize the distance she's made until about an hour of walking down crowded streets of New York later. The flashing images on big screens distracts her temporarily and the indecency of some patrons piss her off. God forbid something making her even more moody, because she just wants to go home.
Home. Still hard for her to grasp onto, just like 'us.' She's never had a home, not until Killian rolled along. She's never had a friend, actually friends, until Killian rolled along. She's never had feelings for a man, not until Killian rolled along. It's all so new to her in so many ways. Being alone has been her motto for ages, but she reckons it's pointless because Killian is going to be persistent on saying she's not lost and alone- the truth in essence.
But, damn, they don't joke around when they say New York is the city that never sleeps. Her surroundings and the general environment keep her distracted enough until she finds herself back inside the apartment, casually climbing the stairs until she approaches the door to their apartment. She's going to really, really need to get used to this 'together' thing. Even though they've been doing it for months. In due time she will adjust... somehow.
It's the quiet, somber mood when she walks into the apartment. It's the reminder that someone died here, by her hands, when she walks down the hallway and into the spare room she had been sleeping in. It's the wave of guilt she feels when she sees him in bed with a hand over his face, and his hair disheveled more than before. Safe to say he's been running his hands through that hair of his while she was out trying to calm her thoughts down. The walk is sort of a success, it sort of told her what she needed, it reminded her of her purpose. It's just not until she tries to carefully sneak into bed next to him until she remembers it clearly.
He stirs, and she regrets waking him up while it's still early, but it's probably inevitable. "You're back." His voice is thick with his accent, and thick of sleep, and it makes her feel... something.
She doesn't fight the smile coming up on her face, even if it's for a second. "Yeah, I'm back. I told you I just needed some time to be alone." She adjusts herself in bed, letting herself be pressed against his chest, tucked under his chin. "Not that I meant for you to take any offense to that," she whispers. She just needed a reminder of her wanting him over anything.
"None taken," he mumbles, wrapping his arm around her. "Did your walk prove successful?"
"Sort of, yeah. Just needed a reminder of what I was fighting for and why," she answers, listening to his steady heartbeat.
He hums softly against her hair, and his body is warm against hers. It reminds her of everything a home should have, and it really makes her wonder of their future. Moving on if you say it in his words. It doesn't take her long before she's asleep, just because she feels safe in his arms.
But the nightmares return, and are shortly-lived as usual. She wakes up to Killian gently shaking her and calling her name, like the first time is happened. Whatever strings she's pulling on, she wants to stop herself because she doesn't like the nightmares. Waking up to the terrors, but yet being reminded he's right next to her manages to keep her composure together for long enough. And she's starting to notice the look on his face every time she wakes up from a shitty nightmare, and the more times he has to do it, the more he seems like he's going to go murder someone- Gold, to be exact.
He's a patient man, she acknowledges that, and since she can't stop the nightmares from worsening every time, she knows it's annoying him. She can tell he's trying his best, because he's taken measures to his own hands- staying up late if he needs to, making her tea or hot chocolate with cinnamon, telling her stories about his old passion with the seas, keeping her tucked under his arms. She appreciates each single little thing he does for her, but it's breaking her soul to see him struggling in trying to help her calm the nightmares.
It's honestly tearing her apart slowly seeing his face scream tired each morning, seeing him staying in bed for a lot of the time, refusing to get out. She's turning him into a broken man, and she doesn't like that. She hates it, she hates seeing him so exhausted, she hates noticing the dullness in his voice, she hates getting into bed each night. So, she starts dreading it. She starts avoiding having to go to sleep, and it doesn't take long until he catches on to her little ruse. It doesn't take long for him to lean against the counter, half-dressed, watching her make herself a cup of coffee or hot chocolate. It doesn't take long until he goes to take a shower, and she takes an extremely long one after him. It doesn't take long until the sadness starts showing through on his face, made of concern and pity. She doesn't want pity though- which, includes sympathy as well.
Days go by and there hasn't been a new threat around, yet, deep down in her brain, she still feels paranoid. Talking between her and Killian become quite minimal, and it's not that she likes it (it's hell), but she can't do anything about it. She finds herself leaving the house early and returning late at night a lot more often, because she's avoiding him. She's avoiding the looks, the words, the feelings, and just everything.
It's while she's attempting to read a book on the couch when things start to change. And she hates the change.
"Swan, when are you going to stop avoiding me and sleep? I'm quite perceptive, and this," he breaks off, waving his finger between them, "this is avoiding. You can't outlive nightmares like that."
There's only so much she can handle before it takes over her. "I don't fucking care, Killian. I'm sick and tired of them, and it pains me to see you trying your best when the outcome doesn't improve." Emma takes a deep breath, and drops her book down on the coffee table. "I don't feel like a whole anymore, I feel like I've been torn in half. I see the faces you make, filled of sadness and worry. And I hate it. I hate it when you wake up and refuse to get out of bed because you've been staying up trying to comfort me. I hate it when you watch me drink something late at night, and you know exactly what I'm doing. I hate it that you're putting me before anything else, and I hate it because I don't know what to do to pay you back for all of your services!
"To be honest, I don't know what or how I deserve you. I told you before, and I'll tell you again, I'm a lost girl. Nothing changes that." It strikes her that she's never actually told him of her life story, only the simple 'I've been on the streets practically all my life' thing. Her voice is dying down slowly, but she continues on anyways. "I was abandoned by my parents on the side of a freeway, with not even the decency to drop me at a hospital! I was a loner throughout my entire childhood, through my adolescence. I never made friends, because I knew I couldn't get attached to people that would eventually leave. I lost all that possible trust inside of me after I made my way by stealing from people. I put my walls high up because I just couldn't handle the idea of believing in anyone. I couldn't look out for anyone but myself, because that's who I am best, being alone.
"And my fucking god, you treat me like I'm everything to you, and I can't believe it. I can't believe that you put me in front of your own self, and I can't believe that I've stumbled upon a human being, a man, who as humble as you, has me as a partner. Through my entire life of being alone, I've never met someone like you. And now that I'm attached to you, I can't bear the thought of losing you too. I can't believe any of this because..." she trails off while she gets off of the couch as her eyes start to water. "I love you," she croaks out, swallowing away that huge lump in her throat which is full of nervousness, and pent up emotions.
Everything is pissing her off, she doesn't even have anything left to yell at him for, nothing left to accuse him of. She just watches him as he stands there idly, his mouth half-open. She notices his hands curl into fists at his sides, and she's honestly about to break down because she's just admitted everything to him. But, without a further minute to waste, he takes two big strides, cups her cheeks, and crashes his lips against hers fiercely- it's filled of raw emotion, passion, love. She doesn't resist it, in fact she does find her hand playing with the hair at the nape of his head, the silky, comforting feeling in between her fingers. She feels one hand wrap tightly around her waist, while the other buries itself in her hair. Everything is just a haze, because she's too caught up with the way their lips are moving against each other, she's too caught up by the taste of mint (his toothpaste) in her mouth, she's too caught up by the way he begs for entrance into her mouth.
They don't get carried away with it, but they do pull apart eventually, both gasping for air to supply for their lungs. The tears threaten her eyes now, and they're not a lot, because she's practically blinking back a majority of it, but he wipes the escaped ones away with the pad of his thumb, and kisses her again and again until she feels like she's going to fall on her knees and die. He's trying to prove a point to her.
And he's doing a damn well job of it too.
"Emma," he breathes against her skin, embracing her closely. "I didn't know of your past, I never knew of your terrible struggles, and I would love to find those parents of yours and punch them for leaving you like that. I would love to go to Gold and kill him right now for sending Pan for giving you such a traumatic experience. I would do anything in the world for you, and I need you to trust me on that. But part of me is delighted that you went through hell." She's about to slap him, but he continues. "If you'd let me explain, that is."
So she decides to listen, decides to not jump to conclusions even though that's what she can be good at. Avoiding, jumping to conclusions, being alone. It's been the three things she's been created of.
"That- If we never met that night at the mansion, we would have probably not been here. If you had not been looking to survive after my threats, you would not be mine. If you had never had the guts to storm in through the window to find loot, which I must say was quite impressive, I would have never been mesmerized by your beautiful green eyes. If you had never grown up with difficult circumstances, we would not be here," he explains quite passionately, looking her in the eyes. "And if I had never met you, I'd still probably be working under the lunatic of Gold's orders. I would still be living in misery, and drowning myself in the rum you see me order all the time at Robin's. Gold has been the source of my hatred for years, but I've never been able to enact anything against him.
"And to be honest, I hate him with all my heart. I despise him, and I've always wanted to cast my revenge on him... He took away my... my first love. He took away Milah, he took her away because she asked to escape his cowardice, demanding ways. She asked for me, because she wanted a life with me. But the night, that bloody damn night, Gold showed up and shot her as I had to watch her die in my arms. Do you know what the last thing she said was, Emma? Do you?"
The confession of his past is making her insides crumble, the look in his usual glimmering blue eyes are gone, replaced by the cold hate. She doesn't blame him for the hate in his heart for this man. At least he admits he wants to kill him- or whatever other revenge he's had in mind before. She shakes her head at his question.
"She said she loved me."
Emma tenses up, her body goes rigid in his arms, and she know he can feel it. One thing she knows is he doesn't want pity, so she won't say anything about that. Her chest feels heavier because she thinks she's a replacement of his Milah of his, but the man has more to say, and she'd rather let him speak and express everything at his own pace, and not disrupt him.
"Ever since then, I vowed to never love another woman, mainly because I thought I probably would never find another person I would have wanted to spend my life with." His adam's apple bobs up and down, the notification that he's swallowed. "That is until I met you. Your passion to survive, your stubbornness, your fiery comebacks. I thought you were merely going to be a business partner, but I turned out to be wrong. I fell for you fast, Swan, and I want you to know you aren't a replacement to Milah, never. She will live in my heart, but you, you're my second chance, and I want to do everything to get it right with you." He inhales a sharp breath, before letting it out. His hand rubs against her cheek, and she leans into his touch slightly. "I've lost my brother in a boating accident, I lost Milah, I lost my parents at a young age. I fear losing you too. I will stop at nothing to keep you safe, love. I know this is a lot to take in, I just willingly much gave you my entire life, but please, don't avoid me.
"I'm tired, yes, but I don't care. I want to care for you, I want to cherish every minute and every second I have with you. I don't want this to end. I miss seeing you smile and laugh genuinely. I miss holding you in my arms at night when you can't sleep. I miss you when you're out doing whatever you do. I miss all of you every time moments are wasted between us. I can't blame you and I can't blame myself for anything. It hurts each day when I wake up and you're not in bed with me, love. Please promise you'll stop avoiding me."
Listening to each word, knowing it's well off as the truth because she knows a lie when she hears one... She can't deny what she feels anymore. She's already said the words before, but she's willing to say it again. Just to let him know. She doesn't care about who he was as a man in the past, she cares about who he is now, and that she's willing to trust him with her heart.
Finally.
"Promise."
"Thank you," he murmurs, kissing her once more. "Don't ever think you're not worth anything. You're worth everything to me, Emma." His eyes are full of hope again, they're no longer dark and cold. They have that blue of the vast oceans once again, and it's like everything just changed between them.
You're worth everything to me, Emma. It plays in her mind. She's never been worth anything to anyone. "I'm sorry for being ignorant. I just couldn't stand seeing you always worn out, knowing I was the source of your fatigue. I don't know know what I was thinking." She lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head at how dumb she was. Everything's so much clearer to her now.
He smiles, and it's small, but it's progress. "Can you... say it again, love?"
"I'm sorry?"
Killian shakes his head. "No, not that. The... you know, other words from earlier. I just, I need to hear it once more, make sure I'm not dreaming like a bloody git."
And then it hits her, he wants her to say the three damned words again. But she's willing to, he deserves every right to know it, even if it means verbally saying it when their actions speak louder than their words. "I love you, Killian Jones. Never thought I would admit it myself," she says, barely over a whisper. "And don't you dare make me say it again, because I will beat your ass."
This time, it's more of a grin, and it makes her warm inside. "Wouldn't dream of upsetting you," he mutters. "I think I've made it abundantly clear already, and I've said it before, but I'll say it again. I love you, too." He sweeps her off her feet, literally. "You know we never talked about that night where I took you."
She rolls her eyes. This man, she thinks to herself. "Are you serious? You're bringing this up now?"
"Perhaps I'm a bit curious. I must say, for your first time, you were very impressive, my love," he says, dropping her on the bed. "I wouldn't mind a... third time. I believe the marks you've left on me have faded, which calls for new ones." Killian drops down next to her. "Only when you're ready. I only wanted to mention it, not tell you we're going to have another go. It's with my best interest only to please the lady when requested, not force anything onto her."
Apparently, the only thing she can do is smile. She can still remember quite a bit of that night. She might have been quite enthusiastic about it. "So you've been thinking about it?" She slips under the covers, letting her hand slip under the pillow as she faces him.
"Oh, you've no clue, darling."
"You're-"
"Dashing? A scoundrel?" He quirks an eyebrow at her with his smug smirk again.
She laughs softly. "I was going for 'too bold,' but scoundrel works too."
Now, it sort of scares her how easily they fall back into their original relationship. No more avoiding, no more tension, no more hiding things. They've both confessed their past, their history of lost ones. What else is there to share now? Nothing, she supposes.
But, there's nothing else to worry about... except Gold. She's forgetting about the thought of avoiding him, she did promise that. The least she can do is keep that promise. And although Gold keeps her wondering and asking questions, she just wants to savour moments like this now. Now she knows, that he's brought it to attention, that life is made up of moments. She doesn't want that to slip away, she wants to keep herself with Killian for as long as possible. Theres just something oddly comforting about this- being in his arms- which makes warmth surge around in her body.
"Sweet dreams, Swan," he mumbles against her hair.
It takes her awhile to fall into slumber, but Killian appears to slip into sleeping quite quickly. The steady heartbeat and evened out breathing slowly lulls her to sleep anyways.
Nightmares again. Except this time, it's horrifying. Apparently she's screaming, because that's what Killian is telling her when she wakes up with clammy hands. She doesn't remember much of the bad dream, but she does know it's the worst one she's had yet. It's like her entire body is trembling, and damn she feels embarrassed about it, but it's also annoying the living shit out of her. Why is it so hard to get a good sleep for once?
"Definitely not sweet dreams," she mutters, getting out of bed. "I'm going to go take a bath. See if that works at all."
"Don't pass out in there, Swan."
She scoffs at his comment, shaking her head gently. "Good point. I probably will pass out in there anyways," she remarks, grabbing some fresh clothes. "Unless you... uh... want to join me...?"
"Swan," he huffs. "Is that an invitation for me to bathe with you? It sounds like both a demand, and a question." He sits up on the edge of his side of the bed, running a hand through his hair and yawning before he lets his body drop back. "I might actually fall asleep on you. I reckon you wouldn't want to drag me out of that tub. I think I'll pass, but I'll keep myself awake until you're out. If you're in there for any longer than thirty minutes, I'm bursting into that washroom."
She knows he's a patient man, but sometimes, he's not. But it's just for the best intentions. "Not even a chance for me to respond before you burst in?"
"Not risking it, love."
"Alright then…"
/-/-/-/-/-/
Another long story short, she did lose track of time, and he definitely bursts into the washroom while she's drying her hair off.
"You were serious. Damn it, Killian!" She whacks him with the towel, but gets back getting her hair to dry.
He ducks his head. "Sorry, love," he mumbles, wrapping his arms around her.
For some reason, every possible thought of being happy, and having a future with this man is in her mind. "I don't know how much longer I can put up with this invasion of privacy, Jones." Maybe she could get used to having him wrapping his arms around her all the time, even if he rushes into the washroom with panic written all over his face.
He chuckles, kissing the top of her head. "You love it."
"That's funny." She does love it, but Emma's… well, good at hiding some stuff away. Throw it down the drain, and she'll forget about answering honestly, or proving any point if needed. But then again, she is not the best at lying, even if her strength of telling out lies contradicts the entire point. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to comb my hair from this colossal mess of curls."
"Open book, Swan," he enthusiastically comments. He pulls back, and the immediate warmth of his body is gone, she already misses it. "I've better prepare some hot chocolate before you murder me in bed for my mistake on barging in," he mumbles.
She nods with a coy smile. "You better." It's not her usual smile either. She hopes he doesn't notice though.
"Is there something wrong, love?" There it is. In his voice, there's a drop in octave, and also the concern and worry- the usual at least.
It's then she starts to freak out, not to the extent of hyperventilating, but she's not good at wording things, talking about feelings- blame the loneliness, the loss of never having someone to discuss things with. "Nothing, actually. I'm fine. Perfect even. Better than before I think. I mean, I didn't die in the bath, so that's good right?" she says, running a hand through her hair.
"Emma." It's like a prayer, a wish. "You're rambling."
She waves it off. Avoiding things again. Avoiding conversations. Avoiding him when he's trying his hardest to care for her. Avoiding the promise. "I'm tired."
"How about I make you that hot chocolate, and you can tell me when you're ready?"
She silently nods, finishing up herself as he slips out of the washroom with a click from the door. Emma shuts her eyes, throwing the towel back on the holder before her hands rest on the edge sink and she's staring blankly at the tile floor. Her eyes feel like fire, her chest aches, and it feels like something acute just hit her heart. Nothing in specific, but she imagines some stupid, stupid things. Alright, not stupid- a future, a happy one.
And it scares her, because she's always thought her entire future would just be the bleak one. It's excruciatingly painful for her to even think about, because she's still tired, recovering, and yet her mind and body doesn't give her a break. A walk is not going to help at this time, nor does she trust herself with it again, not if it means avoiding. Avoiding isn't an option, because Killian is the only one who knows of her pain, her loneliness, her past.
It's as if her legs grow stiff while standing there, and she doesn't know how long she's been there, she reckons it's a couple of minutes, but when Killian knocks on the door, she figures it's been longer than expected.
He opens the door with a mug in hand. "Swan, are you alright?"
It's only when she nods quickly, straightening her posture does he narrows his eyes, with that crease between his eyebrows which tells her something she knows well. Open book, she reminds herself easily.
"Yeah, yeah. Got reflective for a bit," she whispers, letting her fingers rub her eyes.
There's an interlude of a silence, but he quickly breaks it when he presses his lips to her cheek, offering the hot chocolate. "With the cinnamon."
She manages to huff out a breathy laugh with a small smile dancing upon her lips when she takes the mug. "Thanks." She's not the only one who can divert a conversation to clearer waters apparently.
The details of their argument- could you consider that an argument? Or some angry break-up, make-up?- is still fresh in her mind, raw, even. How she yelled at him and then found that her voice lost it's passion by the end because she was about to cry- let's be honest, she did. And then Killian was there kissing her like it was his dying wish or something, as he then confessed his difficult past too.
She's never believed in kindred spirits or true love. She doesn't even know how to love honestly, she's never been in love before. Then again, the man in front of her proves her wrong. She does love him, she can say it so many times, but she's afraid of screwing up. The last thing she wants to do is screw up a perfectly working relationship, even if she knows she can't, because in all of the heavens, Killian seems to know exactly how to lead on and work it out with her every time there's a small mistake, or whenever someone really fucks over.
It's just a matter of learning.
She was never good at learning in the first place.
Damn, it's going to be harder for her than she thought. Nothing's easy, she knows that for sure.
The warm mug of hot chocolate in her hands catches her attention, because she's nearly forgotten she's standing in the washroom with Killian staring at her with a confused face, while dozing off into thinking of things that… should be discussed with him.
But she's not good at conveying her emotions, her thoughts even. The last time she did that, which was a couple of hours ago, she completely ranted her heart out to him. And now shortly after, there's more things she'd like to discuss. There's just no peace in her mind, perhaps it'd be best if she talks to him about it instead of holding it in. Holding it in is only going to turn out for the worst probably, she thinks, taking a sip from the drink in her hands.
Her mouth opens halfway before she purses her lips, shaking her head subtly. Maybe not yet, not after the earlier events, she supposes, letting the idea sink in. And she's pulling away, like normal, she's running after she's acknowledged it.
"You look as if you're floating in space, love," he says gently, his eyebrow raising up. "I think we should get out of washroom and go somewhere a bit more fitting."
She agrees with him, taking the steps she needs to get out of the washroom as he turns the light off. She feels his hand on the small of her back, and a simple touch sends shudders down her back regardless of how many times she gets a simple touch from him. It's some sign though, because this is how it feels to be admired and loved. This is how it feels, and she doesn't ever want to let go of that feeling.
She chugs the remaining of her hot chocolate and places it on the coffee table before she sighs. "Okay, so, you know when you were talking about moving on?"
"Aye."
"I was…" she stops, searching for the right words, "well uncertain."
"Love, you don't have to-"
"No, I gotta clarify this for you." She takes in a deep breath, letting it out right after. "You know how I never had a good start, never had a good life. But you know, you've pretty much influenced me a lot, and I appreciate it. So for an answer, yes, I do want to move on one day, and yes it's with you.
"I've just been hesitant because… seeing a happy future, with you? Was never on my list to be honest- before all of this happened. And though I don't technically know of a 'happy' future, I know that right now, I'm happy. I thought I'd never admit it, because you know stubborn old me, it's just how I've been since the beginning, and who I am now. I'm not used to it, Killian. Not used to someone putting me before them, not used to someone who trusts me like you do. So… thank you. Just, thanks."
His hands are firm on her waist, his lovely blue eyes looking into hers- so desperately, she'd like to drown in them. "You're happy, even through those nightmares?" he asks, his hand sliding up her side until it's to her cheek.
She smiles sheepishly and nods. "Yeah, even through those. Because I don't wake up alone, I wake up to you. It helps, more than you know it, more than what you give yourself credit for."
It's a chuckle for a response from him. "I must say, you're a saviour, Swan."
She feels the blush rise to her cheeks slightly, but it's gone before he can probably notice it. "So are you," she adds on.
He scoffs, and it's self-deprecating. "I'm not a saviour."
She cringes at how much his usual pride gets quickly covered up by the bad. She notices the blame he puts on himself, and she hates how he puts himself down that quickly. "You are to me. You saved me plenty of times, and I appreciate it."
Emma leans in to capture his lips in a kiss. She fears he's going to pull away, but he doesn't, and he keeps himself attached well. It's slow and gentle, and she needs to feed herself more kisses like this- it's empowering somehow. His hands quickly find their way down to her back at some point, and then one is tangling in her hair. She rests her hands on his chest, feeling the well-toned muscle under his t-shirt.
"Thank you, Swan."
They both collapse onto the couch, and Emma feels weary and wants to sleep because she's pretty much fought the demons inside her now. She's admitting the truth, opening up him, and letting him stay in her life. She's letting him become her everything, and she wants him to know that somehow. Another day, maybe, but she's too tired to say anything anymore.
He plays with her hair as her head lays on his lap, looking up at his face. She sees the genuine grin grow from one end to the other, and it makes her feel more happier than she has in ages. Just enough to keep her hopeful, that their broken paths will mend together to create one. Forge a new one together.
But, it's only a matter of time until her fatigue takes over her. She falls asleep, hoping that a nightmare won't be the thing waking her up.