She'd been attending church regularly with her parents (who were absolutely thrilled, by the way), and she was halfway done with her community service.

It hadn't taken long for Mary Margaret to find out that Emma's sudden interest in the church had been spurred by her requirement to do community service - but luckily she didn't suspect anything beyond that.

Actually, Emma found it comforting that her folks knew about her work around the church - it gave her a plausible excuse for being on such good terms with Father Jones. They'd even had him over to dinner one Sunday, and she had to admit there was a warm feeling that rushed over her in seeing her father joke around with him easily.

They'd settled into a comfortable rhythm, Killian working daily to keep the depth of his feelings for her in check as she grew accustomed to her own attachment to him.

Every once in awhile they would sneak a date - much like the first - a cozy dinner in his home, maybe a game (he was surprisingly good at Scrabble).

"I have to admit, love, your little quirk is starting to grow on me," he teased from the kitchen, emerging with two steaming mugs of cocoa with cinnamon.

"I told you." She said simply, wrapping her hands around the warm mug.

"Aye, love. That you did," he placed his own mug on the coffee table and cupped the back of her head lightly as he pressed a gentle kiss to her hairline.

That's when it all slammed into her - how nice this was. How perfect it felt. How right they were for each other.

As much as the rebel in her wanted to hate all of this fluffy domestic crap, she didn't mind it so much with him - and for the first time in her life, that didn't scare her.

"Killian, can we talk?" Her tone was deathly serious, and she noticed the way his skin blanched at her change of pace.

"I've found when a woman says that I'm rarely in for a pleasant conversation." He responded, tight-lipped.

"No, no - it's not… that. I just…" she bit her bottom lip nervously. "You've shared so much of your life with me, through the meetings. And I thought maybe it was time I shared back. I mean, if you want to hear it."

His expression softened as soon as she finished, and he picked up his mug and turned to face her on the couch.

"Of course I want to hear it, darling. I'd love to know more about your beginnings."

She slowly worked her way through her rough relationship with her parents - feeling out of place as the continuously melancholy flip side to their unfailingly sunny dispositions.

He listened intently when she tried to describe how restless she was as a teenager, how desperate she was to be something memorable in such a predictably suburban environs, how she felt fidgety all the time - like everything was on mute around her and she needed to turn the volume up to feel anything at all.

That, inevitably, led to her relationship with Neal. She thought that being with someone who was so reckless, someone who lived with such wild abandon would sate her fervor for adventure and thrills.

As it turns out, he didn't. Being brash didn't make her feel any better - it didn't make her feel more alive, more worthwhile, more interesting.

And even with their shared adamant desire to be "counter-culture" they still settled into a relatively domestic routine. He even went so far as to say they should consider giving up the "Bonnie & Clyde" act and settling down.

It wasn't until afterward that she realized that her version of "realism" didn't make his betrayal any less painful. Ignoring it didn't take the hurt away.

Killian gritted his teeth and clenched his fist so tightly that his knuckles turned white as she recounted the way Neal treated her. The way they'd decided to settle down after one last score - a quick job that would allow them to get out of the life.

She still felt the sting of his betrayal - the way he used her to take the heat for his outstanding warrant. And while she stewed in prison, her heart hardened. She wanted to erase all feeling - all emotion.

She started to think that people who took stock in their emotions were weak - that being callous and cold was the true sign of maturity. Her worldview wasn't jaded, it was realistic - and she took great pride in that. Until she met him.

"I'm so sorry, love." He reached out to her softly, running his thumb up her cheek to wipe away a tear she didn't realize had fallen. "He's a bloody fool, and you deserve so much better."

"It's OK, Killian. I'm over it." She said with a confidence she didn't actually feel.

"I want you to know that you don't have to be 'over it', Emma. It's OK for you to be upset," he said soothingly.

She loved the way he held her then, tight enough to make her feel safe - soft enough to make her feel like it's OK for her to be delicate. And despite the fact that all of this pain was relatively recent - it suddenly felt like it didn't matter as much.

"Thank you, Killian. Really. It means a lot. But…" she stuttered a little bit as she tried to pluck up her courage to be completely honest with him. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm not that upset anymore. Not since I met you."

His heart hung heavily in his chest with the weight of her words.

He didn't know how to respond to her, so he just let her admission hang in the air as he held her.

"I really didn't think I would ever be able to trust a man again, and definitely not so soon. But, I don't know how to explain it…" she finally continued.

"You don't have to explain it, love. I know what you mean. I felt the same, after Milah," he said shakily.

"Milah?"

"Aye. Do you recall my trepidation with cars?" He asked quietly, and she nodded wordlessly. "It was after I got my job at the docks. Things were going relatively well. Even though we only dated for several months, I was deeply in love with her."

The same pain and hurt that she felt over Neal was etched into Killian's face. She wondered how it was possible for her to know so much about him without ever hearing about her.

"Actually, I had her name tattooed on my…" he looked down at his damaged arm - he'd stopped wearing the prosthetic when they were alone (which in and of itself was a sign of how comfortable he was around her). "Anyway, one night this man shows up at my door and pleads with me to let her leave. I couldn't figure out what the hell he was on about, but it finally hit me that he was her husband. She was married."

"Oh, Killian, that's awful," she whispered.

"He left. We got into a big argument. She stormed out and after wrestling with myself for a while, I decided to go find her. Despite my anger over the fact that she'd been lying to me, I still loved her - and I thought maybe if she loved me back, she'd be willing to leave him. I had to find out."

She kept her eyes trained on his, even though he hadn't looked up at her since he started this story.

"I knew she'd go to our bar. But I was too late. She wrapped her car around a tree - must've taken the turn too fast and overcorrected. She was still alive when I got there, but… barely." His jaw clenched tightly at the vivid memory. "I held her in my arms, and with her dying breath she said she loved me."

She felt suddenly cold as she shared the depth of his anguish, her heart so heavy for his loss that she could hardly deny their connection anymore, even if she wanted to. He finally brought his eyes up to hers.

"When I lost my hand, I was glad it took what remained of her, too. I thought I would never love anyone again. Not after that. But then there was you. And for the first time in a long time - I wanted that. It's risky, to be sure, but I'm willing to take that risk if you are."

"I think I'm finally willing to take that risk, too."

Her voice was so quiet and shaky, he almost didn't hear it. Her emerald eyes were brimming with cautious hope - a look he could get used to if she'd allow him.

"Yeah?" he responded shyly.

"Yeah."

She snuggled into his chest and before long she was lulled to sleep by the steady beating of his heart.

She woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon, a sleepy smile spreading across her lips as she padded her way into the kitchen, toying with the sleeves of the oversized sweater she'd changed into when she woke up in the middle of the night.

"Morning my love." Killian took a break from flipping the bacon to press a kiss to her forehead and slide a steaming mug her direction.

"Coffee and bacon? Careful now, a girl could get used to this kind of treatment," she teased as she hopped up to sit on the counter opposite the stove.

"I've been thinking about that," he continued working the pan in front of him. "I know we talked out a lot of stuff last night, and I don't mean to bombard you with heavy conversations, but I've been wanting to ask you something for a while."

He pulled the pan from the heat, wanting to give this his undivided attention. He stepped between her knees, putting his hand lovingly on her thigh, his grey blue eyes gazing at her intensely.

"I want to do this for real. Us, I mean." He clarified quickly.

"I'd say sleepovers and breakfast is pretty 'real', Killian." She quipped.

"No, love. I mean - that is to say - I can't date, I can't… marry." He bit his lower lip as he gauged her reaction.

"Because of your job, because you're a priest. I know that. It's not like that's a surprise." Her brow was knitted in confusion at his meaning. "It's OK, Killian. I know we can't be… official. But this is OK too."

"But I'd like it to be official."

She squirmed a little at his clarity.

"OK, but that can't happen. So why talk about it." She was closing off. Shutting down. This conversation could only lead to pain - and she was just starting to open herself up.

"Love, stop. What I'm saying is that it doesn't have to be that way. I don't have to be a priest."

He'd finally said it.

"I can't ask you to do that. This is your life. Your faith means everything to you. I can't take that away from you. You can't leave the church." She felt like she'd swallowed a million frantic butterflies, and suddenly she didn't want him to be touching her - it was too much, too intimate.

She hopped down from the counter and started pacing immediately.

His heart fell to the floor as he watched her - the horrid voices in his head starting to recount to him all the ways he'd messed up, all the reasons she would never agree to any of this.

"You're not making me do anything. I want to. Love, please, just hear me out -" he was pleading with her. "I don't have to leave the church. I've spoken to the Bishop about resigning my post here. There's an Evangelical Free church in the next town over that's looking for a new pastor - and they think I'd be a good fit."

Her mind and heart were reeling.

"What does that mean, Killian? You'd still be a pastor…"

"A pastor, love. Not a priest. Pastors can date." Now he was smiling at her with undeniable hopefulness.

He was going to resign?!

She wanted to be furious with him for not talking to her about this earlier. How could he have spoken to the Bishop about all of this already? Shouldn't he have asked her first? God, she wanted to be angry - but there was an undeniable flicker of optimism.

"I don't know about this, Killian."

"Well, I've already done the interview - and it went quite well, I think. And truthfully, Emma, I'd been thinking about it for a while - even while I was in seminary I knew I would rather be at a church with a slightly more… modern outlook. The fact that a change in that direction would also allow me to be with you - that's just one factor."

She expected to feel uncomfortable at his declaration - to want to run. But she just… didn't.

She felt her racing pulse start to slow just a little as he explained further. Even with her limited church experience, she knew he didn't quite fit in such a traditional environment - I mean, the man used his smartphone to advance the slides in his sermons.

"Wait, so, when do you hear back about the other position?"

He picked up on the way her body had relaxed a little - she was less panicked about the whole thing. Maybe not quite ready to accept all of it, but she wasn't going to run either.

"Today, actually." He scratched behind his ear, his anxiety rushing back in full force. What if he'd jumped the gun telling her all of this - and then he didn't get the job anyway?

"Today?! How long have you been keeping this secret?!"

"I interviewed last week, love. I would've told you - but I just… I was nervous." He smiled weakly, and in that moment she was overcome with a need to soothe his anxiety. She stepped up to him and slid her hands up his chest and around his neck.

He was so relieved that he nearly cried at the contact. She didn't run. She stayed.

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear, pulling her into his loving embrace.

"For what?"

"For staying," he said simply.

She had a hard time focusing at work all day, eyeing her phone constantly to see if he'd heard back about the job.

Around 4 p.m. she finally caved and sent him a text.

Have you heard anything yet?

Love, even if I had, it's not like I'd tell you via text. Important news demands a physical presence.

She rolled her eyes at her screen.

Drama queen.

He snickered at her half-hearted insult.

Meet me at the church when you're done.

She saw Lucy's car still parked out front as she walked the steps to the church - curious if she knew about Killian's interview.

Pulling the heavy doors open she took a clearing breath, trying to remind herself that even if he didn't get this particular job, they could still find a way to make it work. She tried to quiet the still small voice in her head picking at her insecurities - that if this didn't work out it was a sign they weren't supposed to be together.

"He's up in his office. He mentioned you'd be stopping by. You're almost done with your community service, right?" Lucy said cheerily.

She hadn't thought about it in a while, but yes - she only had another six hours left (she'd been putting in her time much quicker than was required.)

"That's right." She kept her answer short, hoping to minimize the idle chit chat.

"Well, I hope that doesn't stop you from continuing to come see us. I think he's grown quite fond of you, really." Lucy smiled sweetly, her tone and expression making it clear that she still didn't know just how fond of Emma he'd become.

"Thanks, Lucy." She said while she turned to climb the stairs to his office.

She tapped her knuckles on the wood twice, not waiting for a response before twisting the knob and letting herself in, quickly turning the lock out of habit.

"So?!" She said impatiently.

He had a remarkably good poker face. His features gave away nothing while her stomach twisted and churned waiting for the verdict. He stood up solemnly and walked around the desk to face her.

He was about a step away when he couldn't hold back any longer and he beamed at her brightly, pure joy in every ounce of his being.

She nearly leapt into his open arms with a yelp of excitement.

"Oh my God, Killian, that's amazing! You must be so excited!"

"You've no idea, love."

He hugged her tightly, finally feeling at home in his own life. For the first time in his life, everything felt right.