The sun is bright and warm against Emma's face as they approach the shore of her kingdom. It feels like a lifetime since she's laid eyes upon the large seaside town, but it appears identical to the vague memory she holds in her mind. Her parents, the palace, her home, are only an hour's ride north. She has already packed up her meager belongings in a leather rucksack, slung over her shoulder with her bow and quiver. A new sword, sharp and lethal is sheathed and belted at her hips.

She stands at the rail on the starboard side, leaning over, stretching, as if a few extra inches will dock the ship sooner. Looking up to where Killian stands at the wheel, she grins broadly. Almost home, she mouths.

Gliding smoothly, the ship comes to a halt next to the docks and Killian motions for her to drop anchor while he tosses ropes overboard to secure the ship. The ease with which he clambers over the edge and drops to the dock still amazes her.

With the anchor dropped, she moves across the ship, intending to help Killian tie off, but when she peers over the rail, the ropes lay coiled, an untied mess on the sturdy wooden pier. She looks around frantically, searching the docks for a clue as to where he went, but finds nothing.

For the first time she notices that the harbour is suspiciously quiet, and dread turns in her stomach, a niggling sense of foreboding weighing on her mind. Something is wrong.

Wood creaks loudly behind her and she spins, seeking its source. She struggles to take in the scene before her, disbelief warring with anger and fear. Up on the helm Killian is on his knees, mouth gagged, wrists and ankles bound together, bowing his back, exposing his neck and chest to the cold press of a sword against his jugular. The man holding the sword is large and towering and dressed head to toe in black armor. Another man stands to Killian's right and beside him, smiling wickedly, is the Evil Queen.

"What's the matter princess?" Regina's words are cold, but Emma feels fire burn in her chest, eyes flickering to Killian. "Don't tell me you've actually gone and fallen for a pirate, you foolish girl."

Emma wants to protest, to deny it, but the words stick in her throat.

"Do you think that he loves you? That he will break your curse? That all will be right in your sunny little world?" Sharp, cutting words lash at her like a whip and she fights the urge to shrink back, to hide.

"Let him go," Emma pleads, "it's me you want."

Regina laughs and moves forward to stand in front of Killian. The large man in black lowers his sword and takes a step back. Regina brushes her knuckles against Killian's jaw and forcefully tilts his head from side to side, looking at him nonchalantly.

"You know, I really don't see the appeal," Regina says shaking her head and pursing her lips. "And why should I spare him? I'll get what I want either way."

Killian's jaw is clenched tightly, biting down on the gag and his eyes flash angrily. Emma wants to run to him, but her feet feel like lead weights, anchoring her in place.

It happens quickly, a sequence of events flashing by in what realistically, is probably only seconds, but to Emma it feels like an eternity as reality slows, the sound of her own pulse a deafening roar thrumming in her ears.

Regina's hand plunges into Killian's chest with a sickening squelch and when she withdraws it, his heart clutched in her fist, Killian crumples sideways to the deck.

Lightning fast, in the span of a heartbeat, Emma pulls the bow from her back and releases three arrows.

The two men in black stumble, falling dead to the ground instantly.

Regina sways, unsteady on her feet and looks down in shock at the glowing arrow protruding from her chest as blood leeches from the wound into the black satin of her dress. The Evil Queen's legs buckle and she stumbles to her knees on the deck. Emma draws another arrow, but before she can fire, Regina looks up at her, smiling foully through the blood that bubbles over her painted lips as she tightens her fist and crushes Killian's heart to dust between her fingers.

Regina collapses, the light fading quickly from her eyes and Emma drops the bow and arrow. The loud clatter as they hit the deck echoes against her eardrums, but she doesn't hear it – she can't. She hears nothing but sound of her scream as is rises up from somewhere deep within, spilling past her lips, wrapping around her heart and lungs until she can't breathe.

"Emma! Emma listen to me," his voice calls to her through the foggy haze of her tears. "It's alright, love. I'm right here, just breathe. It was just a vision, you'll be okay."

His voice is strong and reassuring and she latches onto it, clings to it, to him as the vision fades and reality rushes back to claim her – the feel of his arms wrapped around her, his hand in her hair, his chest firm and hairy and real against her cheek, wet with her salty tears.

It was just a vision. It didn't really happen. He's alive. He's right here. She repeats the words to herself and slowly she calms, focusing on breathing, trying to sync her breaths with his deep, steady inhales and exhales. Her fingers tingle and her arms feel numb as the oxygen levels in her bloodstream level out and she finally stops shaking.

"We can't dock at the port by my kingdom tomorrow," she tells him with more confidence than she feels, lips pressed above his heart. It beats loudly, convincingly in his chest and she presses another kiss above it, tightening her arms around him.

Has she fallen for him? Regina's words haunt her. Does she love him? Does he love her? She doesn't know. She has no frame of reference for romantic love. The only love she's ever known is that of her parents, and it's a distant memory now, eroded by years of solitude.

She cares for him, she can admit that much. And the thought of him dying tomorrow, even if it means that the Evil Queen dies as well, is something that she cannot accept. He will not die because of her, not when she can prevent it. They will find another way to reach her kingdom, to get to her parents, even if it takes longer.

Killian is silent, and she realizes he must be waiting for her to continue.

"We have to find another way to get there," she says. "The port isn't safe."

He draws her chin up to meet his eyes and his thumb swipes at the tears on her cheek.

"What happened, love? What did you see?" he asks, concern clouding his features, his pupils wide, eyes nearly black in the dark room.

"You died," she says plainly, frowning. She doesn't mention that Regina also died. That's not important. All that matters is making sure they take a different path. That they alter fate. That he lives.

Several emotions flicker across his face, most of which she can't make out in the lack of light. At least that's what she tells herself, it's easier to pretend she doesn't see the shock and awe and gratitude and absolute adoration in the slight smile he gives her.

"We'll find another way." His answer is simple and when she tucks her face in the crook of his neck and mumbles "thank you" he seems content to leave it at that and doesn't press for more answers.

Minutes tick past in silence. Killian's eyes are closed and his breath is even and if it weren't for the soothing brush of his fingers against her spine, she would think he was sleeping. He stays awake with her for a nearly an hour, but eventually his fingers still, curling over her hip, holding her to him in slumber.

Emma lays awake; sleep eludes her and she doesn't bother to chase it. Instead she stays in his arms, tracing invisible patters through his chest hair until the sun rises. When dawn creeps through the gap under his door, spilling a fine ray of dusty light into the room; she slips from the bed quietly and quickly pulls on her clothes.


Killian wakes unsettled, reaching for Emma, but the spot beside him is empty. Her scent and warmth still cling to the blankets so she can't have been gone for long.

You died. Her words linger in the stale air of his cabin and he swings his legs over the edge of the bunk, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before reaching for his pants. He needs to go find her, make sure she's alright.

In the middle of the night he had woken to the tight clench of her fist above his scarred wrist, nails biting into the flesh of his forearm as she spoke against his chest, pleading. Let him go. It's me you want.

Her body had been rigid against his, his attempts to soothe her futile. Her scream; deep and dark and poignant, her entire body shaking as she clawed at his chest, sobbing under the weight of her grief. Grief at the thought of him dying; he takes a moment to let the earth shattering magnitude of that revelation settle in his chest. Bloody hell. He shakes his head, he can't and he won't dwell on that. Focus on the mission, he tells himself, get her home safe.

Strapping on his brace, he finishes dressing quickly, snapping his hook into place and grabbing a map from his desk.

He finds Emma leaning against the rail, looking out over the water. The lingering sunrise casts shades of blush across the clouds looming on the horizon and she greets him with a sad smile when he moves to stand next her.

"Did I wake you?" she asks, apologetic.

He shrugs. "The bed felt empty without you next to me."

Emma raises an eyebrow and he wants to kick himself for daring to sound like some doe-eyed sap.

Pulling the map from his pocket, he unfolds it and points to a small island a fair distance west of her kingdoms port.

"It's a small fisherman's village. Hardly more than a handful of shacks, but I have several acquaintances there. We'll sail that way and anchor the ship at a distance. After nightfall, we'll take the small boat and row to the island."

"But..." Emma protests.

"It's alright love; these men won't question your face or your presence. I hold their loyalty and they know better than to cross me. A case of rum and a pouch of coins and they'll be falling over themselves to aid us."

She still looks uncertain but she nods and shifts closer to him, her elbow bumping against his.

They spend the morning gathering supplies, packing Emma's meager belongings, and sharpening their swords. By the time lunch rolls around, Emma is visibly sagging with exhaustion and he pulls her away from the map she studies, dragging her down next to him on the ground by the helm.

"Sleep," he orders tugging her to his side. She opens her mouth to argue but her words quickly shift into a yawn.

"I'll be right here, love," he assures her, "I'll wake you as soon as the sun sets."

She nods and slides down to pillow her head against his thigh. Fatigue pulls her into a deep sleep within minutes and he spends the afternoon and early evening combing his fingers through her hair as he keeps a close watch on the surrounding sea.

The sky slips into a dark starless dress with the arrival of night and Killian gently rouses Emma. She wakes quickly and he can feel her eyes following him as he moves about the ship lowering sails and securing lines. By the time he drops anchor, she has risen from the deck and has their belongings stowed away in the small boat.

"You ready?" he asks, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear and pulling her hood up to cover her bright mane.

"As I'll ever be," she admits, wrapping her fingers behind his neck and pulling him down for a brief, but heated kiss.

He's more than tempted to take her below and have her pressed naked beneath him, around him, warm and wet and oh so sweet one last time, but he forces himself to pull back and break the kiss. He seats her in the boat and lowers it into the water before climbing down to join her. A half moon shines through the clouds, lighting their way and he looks back over his shoulder at his ship before rowing forward toward the island.

Before long they reach a small dock and Killian hops from the boat, knotting it to the pier before offering his hand and helping Emma to dry land. Their supplies are few; two bags filled with belongings and food, their swords, Emma's bow, a case of rum and a pouch of coins.

He motions for Emma to trail him and she does so silently, following his footfalls as he makes his way up the dark path to the small cottage. She stands behind him, slightly off to the side, her head lowered when he knocks on the door.

"Who the buggering hell is knocking on my door at this hour?" Something clatters loudly inside the cottage and when a rough curse sounds from behind the closed door, Killian can't help but laugh.

The door swings open violently, banging against the wall and a tall wiry man pokes his head through, glaring at him. "This had better be good, Jones. I was this close," the man holds up his thumb and finger an inch apart, "to being buried balls deep in my wife..." he trails off when he notices Emma standing several feet back in the shadows.

"Apologies Jones, I'd no idea you were keeping female company these days." He nods at Emma. "Forgive my language miss."

Killian claps him on the shoulder. "Quite alright, Caddis. Takes more than a few dirty words to make this lass blush." Killian throws Emma a leering smile over his shoulder and she rolls her eyes, stepping closer.

"What do ya say, Cad? You gonna invite us in or should I take this rum over to Garret and see if he'd rather be of assistance?" Killian jests, holding up the case of rum that dangles from his hook.

Caddis nods immediately and steps back, waving them in.

It's been a couple years since Killian last visited, but the cottage is exactly as he remembers. The main room is dimly lit by several lanterns and if Caddis notices the unnatural pallor of Emma's face, he doesn't let his gaze linger or comment upon it.

They gather around the table, taking seats and Killian opens a bottle of rum, handing it to Caddis.

"So what brings the dastardly Captain Hook and his lady..." Caddis pauses, looking to Emma for a name.

"Etta," Emma supplies quickly with a smile.

Caddis continues, redirecting his question to Killian, "to my doorstep at such a late hour on a fine spring night?"

"Etta and I are in need of transport to the mainland." Killian says, casting a sideways look at Emma and she shrugs, grinning back as if to say What? It's a perfectly acceptable fake name.

"What of your ship and your crew?" Caddis asks, confused.

"My ship is fine, I've left her anchored a short ways off shore. My crew on the other hand, well that's a long story. If you're interested, there's extra coin in it for you if you see to it that the Jolly is cared for in my absence. I would take her to the mainland, but alas she is far too recognizable and we would prefer to be discreet." Killian says, emphasizing discretion.

Caddis nods. "When do you wish to leave?"

"Ideally within the hour," Killian states, "the dark of night and caution are close friends after all."

A door creaks open and a tall redhead steps out.

"Killian Jones!" the woman admonishes with a poorly hidden grin. "First you draw my husband from our bed, and now you ask him to sneak you to the mainland under the cover of darkness? Have you no morals?"

"Very few Loretta, very few indeed," Killian answers with a grin, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "I suppose I ought to have asked you first. We both know Caddis does nothing without your approval."

Caddis groans and Emma laughs.

"I guess I can allow it," Loretta picks up the open bottle of rum and takes a large swallow, "provided there's more where this came from."

Killian nods. "There's another case on my ship, feel free to help yourselves to that and any other perishables left on board, I'm not certain how long we'll be gone." He says we because it raises fewer questions and while he considers Caddis and Loretta to be the closest thing he has left to friends, some things are safer kept secret.

Arrangements are made and payment is exchanged, and within the hour he and Emma are standing on the small fishing trawler as it sails through the dark water toward the nearby port. For Emma the night remains blissfully free from visions and she stands at Killian's side as they make the short trip from island to harbour.

When they arrive, Caddis slips from the trawler and tells them to wait while he makes his way through the small town to procure horses for their journey.

Caddis returns in mere minutes and leads them through the shadows of the sleeping town to the forest where two hardy bay geldings stand tacked and tied to a post. Killian embraces Caddis with a pat on the back and Emma nods, thanking him quietly before mounting.

"Safe travels Killian, Etta," Caddis wishes them well before turning in the night and disappearing back into the town.

Killian mounts and the horses set off into the forest at a brisk walk, picking their way carefully across the dark, uneven ground. The path is narrow and rocky and they're forced to ride single file as they squeeze between trees with nothing but dull moonlight to light their way. He lets Emma lead, and he follows, constantly scanning their surroundings, searching the dark forest for danger.

The path is overgrown in places and the going is slow, but it's far safer than travelling the main roads. The night passes in comfortable silence as they trek slowly east, back toward Emma's kingdom; the only sound that passes in the night is the steady fall of hoof beats and the occasional snort from the horses.

Dawn breaks, bright and warm and he can hardly keep his eyes open, the smooth rocking gait of the horse beneath him lulling him into a dangerously relaxed state.

"Emma, love," he calls to her, "let's take a break, rest for a bit."

Together they steer the horses from the path, up to higher ground where they hold a better vantage point and are well hidden behind a dense thicket of pines. Dismounting, they secure the horses to a tree and Killian settles quickly on the damp floor with his back against a fallen log, the exhaustion of riding for seven hours and not sleeping in twenty-four finally catching up to him.

Emma hunkers down next to him and hands him a chunk of bread that he gratefully accepts. He washes it down with water from the skin she passes his way. Her bow and quiver sit next to her, leaning against the thick log and she turns to him after placing the water skin back in her bag.

"Sleep for a few hours, Killian. I'll keep watch." Her eyes are bright and alert, and for a second his sleepy brain can't seem to figure out just how she's still wide awake when he's on the verge of collapsing, but then he remembers that she slept through the afternoon and part of the evening yesterday, and it all makes much more sense.

"Just need to rest my eyes for a moment, love," he insists, tilting his head back to rest against the moss covered bark at his back, "then we can be on our way."

His eyes close and he's asleep in seconds, completely unaware of the soft kiss she presses to his lips.


Emma lets him sleep, satisfied to sit on the forest floor, simply listening to the horses snort contentedly and the cheery whistles resonating from a family of birds in a nearby tree. The ground is cool and damp but the long leather of her jacket keeps the moisture at bay. It's incredibly peaceful, sitting here like this, surrounded by the sounds and smells and sights of nature. The air is thick with the scent of dew and pine and soil and she revels in it, tilting her face skyward and breathing deep. The sight of Killian sleeping quietly next to her isn't half bad either and she spends more time than she cares to admit studying the lines and plains and angles of his face.

A twig snaps nearby and she startles, reaching for her bow, but she releases her breath and immediately relaxes when through the trees she spies a doe and two small fawns. The mother watches her closely, holding eye contact for a moment before steering her babies away and retreating out of sight.

The forest remains quiet for the rest of the morning and Emma doesn't wake Killian until the sun hangs directly above them, its rays warming her face.

She slides into his lap, knees straddling his hips as she trails slow kisses across his chest, up his neck and along his jaw. When she finally settles her lips against his, he's wide awake, arms looped around her back, pressing her close.

He pulls away, nose bumping against hers as they breathe deep from the same small bubble of air, and after a moment he looks up at the sky, frowning. "Why did you let me sleep so long?"

Because I like watching you sleep, she thinks. "You were tired," she offers instead with a shrug as she slips from his lap and gathers her bow.

He seems irritated, his mood dark and she's not sure what she did wrong so she focuses on gathering their belongings and tightening the cinches, securing the saddles on both geldings.

She's already mounted when he approaches her, looking apologetic.

"Sorry, love." His hand rests on her thigh, thumb stroking softly. "I appreciate you letting me sleep, but I don't want to delay your return any longer than necessary."

"And I appreciate your slightly skewed sense of honour, but seeing as I was the one who neglected to wake you, technically I was delaying my own return, and the only thing you should have to apologize for is ending that kiss so abruptly."

A smile blooms on his face and instantly the mood lightens.

"Too right, lass." Killian raises an eyebrow. "Note to self; when you kiss the princess, continue to do so until she either pushes you away or you fall unconscious from oxygen deprivation."

Emma swats at him playfully and he catches her hand easily, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to each knuckle before placing it against her thigh with a mollifying pat.

Idiot. The man is a stupid, irritatingly charming, ridiculously handsome, idiot.

Killian mounts his horse and when they set off, he fixes her with a grin that makes her choke on her words and sends her heart stuttering in an erratic rhythm against her ribcage.