A/N: This is the final chapter, but there will be an epilogue to come. Thanks so much for reading, commenting, liking, and sending encouragement!

"There are going to be a lot of preliminaries that we will be discussing and going through before any diagnosis can be made."

Just that statement alone started Emma's palms to sweat and her heart to begin beating faster. Why? She didn't know. What little internet research that she had done had pointed to the fact that this was a preliminary step. A genuinely good first step, but preliminary.

Sitting there, trying to feel as comfortable as possible in the thin hospital gown with the paper sheet crinkling loudly with every movement she made on the table, she realized that she was exactly where she needed to be. Wasn't that an important revelation?

"I understand," she assured the doctor with a single nod.

She'd had the same family doctor for years now. She'd also had a good professional relationship with Dr. Emily Goodall. In all those years, in the many different stages that Emma had come into her office, she had never once mentioned or hinted to her condition. Condition?

Sometimes, now more lately than ever, she could admit that it was a condition. Her sadness in life had not been something to dismiss. It was something that was to be handled, and head on.

"We're going to start with a physical," Dr. Goodall continued, her smile small and her eyes looking for understanding. "It's important to try to rule out the possibilities of the source being physical or chemical."

It was important to see if there was a chemical imbalance. Emma understood that as well.

"Is there anything that you wanted to ask before we begin?"

Emma looked at her silently for a moment. There was a lot of questions that she had. There were so many things that she didn't understand, but wanted to desperately.

"Yes," she finally answered slowly.

Her nod was encouraging, the smile assuring.

It was that look that… did something to Emma. It felt as if a dam was ready to burst, the emotions and issues that she'd had for so long had built up to this moment. She'd never faced her own problems. For as long as she had been sad, for as long as she had been depressed, it had felt like such a personal battle that no one else would understand. But she wasn't alone. Her personal battle may have been hers. But it wasn't an uncommon thing that other people didn't live with every day, just like herself.

"If… if it isn't chemical," she began, shaking her head. "Then what? Chemical… makes me think of medications and treatments that last a lifetime. That makes me feel like… there's more to it than… depression."

"Well, first we need to make the right diagnosis," Dr. Goodall said softly. "I know that you came in today because you feel as if depression may be the cause of all your problems. Depression may be the determining factor. There are also many causes for the disease- and yes, it is a disease. As I said before, it may be chemical. Although it may not be."

It had been years. It had all culminated to this moment right here, and that made the moment emotionally draining.

"There are a number of factors that make up the diagnosis. There are also quite a number of different types of depression. Some of those call for medication, which will help balance a person. There are other forms where psychotherapy is a key factor towards healing. Other times, a combination of the two works best for someone. It depends on the individual diagnosis, Emma."

It was still a lot to take in.

"I understand."

Dr. Goodall's eyes began to look Emma over closely. There was a second where she pursed her lips and just stood there quietly.

"How about this?" she finally asked, taking a step back away from the table. "Tell me some of your symptoms, Emma. Some of the issues that plague you."

Emma stared back at her, her eyes blinking. It was an open invitation that she should have been ready for. Yet… that in itself was overwhelming.

"How long have you felt this way?"

How long? So long.

"It's not an everyday occurrence," she started softly. "Some days are worse than others. Some periods of life- some subjects- are more difficult. But… there comes this…" the deep breath was sudden and surprising, "sadness that comes over me that is hard to get over. Some days it hard to get out of bed. Some nights… it's just easier to curl up in the bed and cry."

Emma took in another big deep breath. She felt the tears already gathering in her eyes.

"I have good periods, I really do. It's just that sometimes… I really feel like… this means nothing." She felt the way her body caved in on its own volition. Sadness was such a familiar feeling that, even though she wasn't currently in a bad state, she could still recall the ache. "I feel like… I'm not good enough for anyone or anything. No matter what I do, it won't be good enough. I feel like I'm not good enough. And what does that mean?"

Admitting it out loud was…

"Sometimes… I wonder… what do I matter." Emma felt the tilt of her head as her mind wandered deeper into her private thoughts. "Who, in all honesty, do I affect in any way that I would be missed if,,, I wasn't here. Sometimes… the sadness is that deep that I wish that it was no one at all. Because sometimes it's easier to stay in that bubble all alone."

Emma paused, her eyes blinking on the floor beneath her. She had said a lot. She wasn't expecting to say a lot. Not here. Not initially.

"I'm not…" She shook her head quickly as she looked back at the doctor. "I'm not… I've never thought about… that. I didn't mean it like that."

Dr. Goodall's mouth was almost a straight line, but there was at least care evident in her eyes.

"I understand, Emma."

And Emma, for the first time in… was it forever? She felt as if someone did understand. It was also an understanding that didn't come with judgment.

She shook her head again. "It's not always like that. The feeling comes in spurts. Usually triggered by something. It started with relationships. Some relationships have been harder to get over than others. But it always goes back to that feeling of me not being good enough. It's like, 'of course something bad happened, because I don't deserve happiness.' When it's that bad, it's really bad. And that's the feeling that I don't want to feel again. Deep down, really deep down, I have finally come to realize that it's not true. That the only reason I must feel this way is because there's something wrong with me. The depression that can hold on so tight to me is more than normal."

There was something about the way that she looked at her. It was as if there was a real understanding between the two women. An understanding that Emma had never known in all her life in terms of the sadness. Starting to get things out had been a soothing factor, but actually seeing this comprehension was something altogether different. The calming effect almost gave her the opposite feeling, because… how was this even possible?

"Emma." The empathetic look in her eyes looked sincere. "You've taken the first step in getting your life back under control." This time, there was a small smile on her lips. "Many people are unable to do that much in their entire lifetime. I want you to know that I am here to help you. We will do everything we can to make the correct diagnosis and get you on your way to feeling better. Okay?"

It had felt like a lifetime, the sadness and the hurt. To actually believe that, maybe, it could all change for the better?

Emma took in another breath and nodded her head.

"Okay, Dr. Goodall," she told her softly. "It sounds like the best news I've heard in a long time."

Emma stared down at the appointment card. Seven days. Seven days seemed like a very long time to wait. It wouldn't be until next Wednesday before she would be able to see or talk to the psychotherapy.

She flipped the card over and over between her fingers. A simple office card with the usual information on it. It was more than just a little card that read Dr. Archibald Hopper. It was… a lifeline. It was a chance to get everything right. It had been a very long time since everything was truly all right.

Leaving the doctor's office, there was already a monumental amount of weight that had been lifted off her chest. It was almost enough encouragement to step out from her shadow. If she went home now… If she didn't hide herself away in a hotel room for the rest of the week and had instead gone home to Henry and her parents…

There was a part of her that saw how that could be possible. There was another part of her that was eager to remember that this was time she was taking for her. She needed that time just for her.

Emma's eyes roamed over the front of the card again, her gaze lingering on each and every word carefully.

There were so many possibilities of just what path her life was about to travel on. If her appointment with Goodall had been any indicator of what was to come…

It was with those thoughts, and maybe with the tiniest of smiles, Emma began to move.

Pressing her hand against the glass door, she looked out a bright morning that was ready to receive her. When had she ever been one to look at life so philosophically? Hmm…

She liked feeling the coolness of the glass touching her palm. She liked feeling the ease of pain slipping away, even if it was only because she was on a momentary emotional high.

Walking out and encountering a still early day, Emma couldn't help the one thought that came to mind. Walking out...

There had been many times- too many times- when a door opening and a person walking out, her or someone else, had been indicative to pain. An indicator of something that had been wrong with her or with her life…

She could still hear the door clicking closed as Neal walked out of the apartment for the last time. She remembered how desolate and saddened she'd been for herself.

How many times had she ran away from an issue to try to find comfort somewhere else? Too many times. The last time that had happened… There had been retaliation for the last time she had walked out on someone. Killian… he repaid her by doing the same.

The cool air, bordering on chilly, hit her face. It felt… really good. It felt like… weirdly enough, like she could really feel it. She was feeling something.

No one would understand that, she mused with another small smile. Emma ducked her head down, letting her fingers ruffle through her hair and shaking it over her shoulders.

All that mattered, at least for now, was that she understood.

Taking time for herself.

Emma wasn't used to that. She wasn't used to putting herself first. Herself. That didn't mean her obligations in life. That didn't mean family obligations or work obligations. Emma had always had a way of putting things and responsibilities above herself. For the first time in… a long time, her days were spent on her own well-being. And it felt…

It wasn't always easy or uplifting. There were parts of herself that she had to examine. They were the good and the bad. They were happy and the sad. Everything that made up who she was had a significant impact on how she envisioned herself and how she lived her life.

There had been times within those long days that she continued to debate on going back home. Yet, she never did. The hard work was just beginning. She was far from giving up.

She thought about them often. This was about her, but they were a part of her as well.

Emma thought about him sometimes. She didn't call him. She didn't text him. She thought about him.

Hm…

He hadn't asked for the key back. He hadn't demanded that she leave it or to never use it again.

Emma held the ring by that single key in her hand. There was only a second of apprehension. Just a second, because what she was doing was the one and only thing that she had wanted to do since she'd found herself alone in that hotel room for the last time.

She pushed the key into the keyhole and turned the lock. The sound of it slipping open seemed to be magnified in her ears. It was never lost on her that her father's old truck was parked in the driveway next to Killian's when she found herself slipping towards the back of the house to park. It wasn't lost on her that she was only some yards away from her parents and her son, who were most likely in bed for the night, while they were in her apartment. It also wasn't lost on her that she was exactly where she wanted to be. Or, at least, she was close.

Emma closed the door and locked it again with as much quietness as she had strived for when opening it.

His apartment…

She had always been impressed by it. Maybe, at one point, even intimidated. They were stark contrasts, weren't they?

Leaning against the door, she took in the scent. It was him. A scent that she had missed. She let her eyes fall over the artwork on the wall. Art that he had created himself. It was usually with a gentle hand. She remembered those hands.

What if he didn't want her here?

The thought came to her mind so suddenly that it scared her. What if she was overstepping a line?

He said he wasn't angry with her anymore. He also said that… he wasn't done with her. She didn't want to be done with him either.

Emma took in a deep and steadying breath as she pushed herself away from the door. He wouldn't not want her here. It had only been her need to see things negatively that made her even think of the notion.

She walked the length of the room, finding herself in the well put-together living room. It was so orderly. It was such a Killian trait, this organization. Where her life had been disheveled by the turn of events, it seemed as if he had not been bothered by any of it.

That… was her looking down at herself again. The point was that she was conscious of that fact. It was something that she could take apart and dissect. Not right at this moment, but she could. She would ask herself, later, why she made prejudgments based on the differences between them. She would. Just not right now.

Besides that of her footsteps, the apartment was completely silent. That only magnified the sound of her beating heart. It had been on impulse, coming here so late at night. She didn't call him. She didn't ask. She had just done it. And now…

Emma took bigger steps, each stride growing. She had missed him. More than she ever knew that she could miss a man. There were others facts that she had never crossed her mind before him. She wanted, someday, to be able to explore all of those nuances about life that she had before casted away. And she wanted to do that with him.

The hallway seemed both a mile long and too short at the same time. There was still time to turn around. She could still back away and not go through that bedroom door.

No. The calming of her heartbeat and the sudden small smile on her face said that she couldn't turn around. Wasn't she done with running?

Yes, she was.

Her lips were soft. Her mouth tasted sweet. Like always. He loved the way her mouth opened over his. Giving. She was always giving in that way. This time was no different.

Killian let his fingers slip through the fallen strands of blonde hair that laid against her cheek. Silky, as always. He brought his other hand to caress the softness of her other cheek. So soft.

Her moan was barely audible to his ears. It still had a way of affecting him, making the need to pull her closer to him grow.

"Killian."

His fingers pushed through her hair, pressing through the thickness and pulling her closer into him.

Her chest pressed into his, the weight of her body and the feel of her lips were a combination that he'd missed.

"Emma."

The feel of her own hand, soft and warm, running up the column of his neck and over his cheek…

The feel of that silky hair lightly brushing over his bare chest…

It felt…

Why did it feel real?

Killian opened his eyes.

Lips. Hands. Hair.

His mind was playing tricks on him. He'd never known himself to have visions. Hallucinations. A dream to come true. But…

She pulled back, her green eyes opening and watching him.

"Hi."

There was a quiet moment. His eyes darted across her face, the sleep quickly disappearing. Her eyes on him, wondering what was behind that gaze.

Had she made a mistake? Coming here, had she made a mistake?

Slowly, Killian raised onto one elbow, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Is this…" He shook his head. "I'm dreaming."

There was something in his eyes. It was something in the way he looked at her. Even if it seemed impossible, even if he believed it could only be a dream, there was something about the way that he looked at her that made her know…

It hadn't been a mistake.

"You're not dreaming," she whispered softly.

"What are you..."

The thought wasn't finished. Killian's hand came up to her cheek instead, pulling himself up at the same time.

If she wasn't a dream, then neither was he.

Emma's eyes closed again at the feel of his skin against her own. She heard the give of the bed as he moved.

His lips didn't reach for hers. The scratchiness of his beard felt amazing against the smoothness of her cheek. Turning her head just slightly, she encouraged the act. She lifted her hand up to his own cheek, smoothing over it, bringing him all the closer.

That feeling was enough. Until it wasn't.

Her hands slid from his cheeks, his ears, brushed lightly over his neck, and found the back of his head. Her fingers dug into that clump of hair at the nape of his neck.

His sudden harsh intake of breath could be felt against her skin.

"Emma."

His fingers dug into her own hair, yanking her head back gently.

Emma blinked her eyes open to find his mouth swooping down over hers.

Her moan was quiet. Her mouth opened for his, loving the forcefulness of his kiss and his hands planted in her hair.

His was shirtless. His bare shoulders were tempting. Her fingers danced their way down his neck and glided over his shoulders. Silk over steel, that was right.

The kiss had been from a man who was… starving. Now…

Killian's kiss slowed. Opened mouths became barely that. Holding her head prisoner in his hands, his lips enveloped her bottom lips. Sucking. Biting. A gentle sweep of his tongue. Sucking again.

Teasing.

Emma pulled back from his embrace.

Her eyes found his again. He was watching her with wondrous and mysterious eyes. But he smiled. A brief little smile that spoke volumes.

Her own smile turned into a small laugh.

"You're…"

Killian pulled himself up, finally sitting up completely. His eyes left hers. His hands were slow and careful as they moved back to touch her. Fingertips lightly reaching her neck.

Skin on skin. Over skin. Against skin. Please.

With a small laugh of his own, the three buttons at the top of her sweater became undone. One at a time. Just a little more of herself being revealed to him.

Concentrating on the task at hand, his eyes traveled the path of his fingers as they opened her shirt. Fingers to collarbone… to shoulder. Killian stretched the material of the sweater down over her shoulder. His mouth followed. Leaning forward, he dropped his open mouth on her bare skin.

Shoulder. Neck. Collarbone. Chest.

Emma shuddered at the feel of those lips.

"Not enough."

His fingers smoothed over the hem of the sweater before disappearing underneath. They tickled over her flat stomach, making the flutter from way down deep grown even more.

His mouth was on the move. Back up. A whisper of lips and a nip of teeth at her neck.

Emma threw her head back and sighed. So good. But he was right. Not enough.

Killian pulled back. His fingers grabbed again at the shirt. Up. Up

She helped. Raising her arms above her head, the need for him to undress her was growing strong.

Emma heard rather than saw the sweater hit the floor beside them.

Just a moment. Their eyes locked again. Just a moment…

Skin to skin. Too tempting.

He moved first, his head once again dipping down.

"Killian." It was a whimper of need. Want.

The feel of his lips across the top of her breast felt good, but…

Emma grabbed a fistful of hair from the top of his head. She pulled… up. Her lips already parted in anticipation of his kiss.

A slow kiss. An exploratory kiss that called for heads to angle and tongues to dip just so inside.

His arm pulled across her back, hugging her body against his. He kicked at the sheets, his legs seemingly impatient as they wildly pushed the covering away.

"Emma."

Her hands closed over his cheeks, kissing his lips softly. She went willingly as he pressed his back into the mattress.

Skin to skin.

His hand pressed into her spine, climbing from the small of her back and traveling upwards. Until…

The confines of the bra disappeared as soon as he unclasped the hooks.

Emma paused to smile against him mouth. The feel of his body underneath hers…

Her nosed bumped against his, only making her smile grow. It turned into a nuzzle of her nose against his cheek, an amazing feeling.

"I…"

Killian's hold on her tightened. Just as sudden as he'd brought them down to the mattress, so was the flip.

She found herself on her back with him above her. There hadn't been any time to pause. He helped her out of the bra and threw it aside just as easily as the sweater.

Straddling her hips, he offered her a smile. Then he was gone. His face disappeared as he moved on to her body again.

It was a soft kiss over her breast. And then…

Emma gasped at the feel of his mouth closing over her nipple. Her eyes squeezed shut as she bucked up her hips. The need to feel him against her…

His hands gripped tight on either side of her hips. He was an equal opportunist. His mouth slid over one nipple to the other, giving equal and avid attention to each.

"Kill-"

His hands were moving. Traveling along the waistband of her pants, they met at the button.

Slow down.

She found her hands grabbing at his head again, another fistful of hair in both. She pulled him away, a mere inch or so from her skin.

Not fair.

With his mouth away from her, his hands moved even quicker. Seconds. It had only taken seconds for his hands to find their way inside her panties.

Taking in deep breaths, Emma lifted her hip from off of the bed. It wasn't too much, the feel of all of him. It was enough.

His body bent down over hers. His hands cupped her hips, bringing her into him as he laid his cheek against her stomach.

The simple act…

Emma's hands roamed over his back, fingers spread wide so that she could feel as much of his as possible. Just a moment longer, like this…

With his cheek lying against her stomach, she only felt the side of his mouth open, placing a half-kiss right there.

She found her own self kicking. Pushing her foot against the leg of her pants, she lifted what she could of him and her body.

"My pants."

He turned his head, placing a full press of his lips under her bellybutton. His hands, inside of both pants and panties, went back to the previous job of helping rid herself of the confining clothes.

Killian sat up on his heels, his eyes trained on the job. Pants and panties rolled down. Over hips. Thighs.

"Emma."

Knees.

She felt her body quaking.

Calves. Ankles.

Killian.

Feet. Passed toes.

Naked. Completely naked.

He looked at her. What was it in his eyes? Not only lust. Not only desire.

"Killian?" Emma scooted up higher on the bed with her elbows, slipping herself from underneath him.

Pensive. Pursed lips told her that he was thinking. He sat there on his knees, watching her.

Emma moved carefully up into a sitting position. Naked, with his eyes on her, she watched him just as closely.

Killian took in a deep breath.

"You're here."

It was a statement. Not a question. Emma nodded as she folded her legs underneath her, matching his position.

"I'm here," she whispered.

It was the unasked question… Why? That's what he wanted to know.

Maybe the answer wasn't so easily seen. It should have been. She felt like it was radiating from her.

Emma moved, pushing herself up on her knees in front of him. Reaching her arms out towards him, she was slow to wrap herself around him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling herself even closer.

"I love you," she whispered softly, her eyes only on his. "I'm in love with you. Utterly and completely in love with you."

"Emma." His eyes crossed the span of her face. Tilting his head just slightly, he ran a single finger along her cheek. "Say it again." This time, his eyes found hers again.

She smiled, an easy smile.

"I love you, Killian."

He bit down on his lip, his head giving a single nod.

"I love you, too, Emma."

"Flaws and all?"

"Every single damned thing about you."

His moved then, his lips reaching hers.

His arm looped around her waist, holding there loosely. His hand slipped down the small of her back, moving to cup her bare bottom. Slowly, he raised himself up on his knees, matching her position.

Those arms around his neck fell across his shoulders. Her fingertips danced over his chest, loving the feel of it against her own skin.

She could feel the smile on his lips. Quick kisses. Light caresses of lips against lips.

His hand moved up to capture hers. Pressing it against his chest, hand and hand fell down his side. Stopping at his hip, he left her hand there.

The smile grew before nibbling at that bottom lip again.

Emma brought her other hand down to meet the other. Slipping underneath the waistband of his underwear, she helped return the favor of undressing.

One knee lifted, slipping out of the boxers. Then the other.

Forehead dropped down to forehead. Killian rested his hands high up on her arms, holding there.

Her smile felt permanent. With eyes lightly closed, Emma lifted her mouth back up to his. She pressed her hands against his hips, guiding him back down to sit on the bed.

When she opened her eyes to look at him, his smile made her whole body tingle. Anticipation. Love. So much more.

"I love you, Emma." His hand found her hip.

She didn't need the guidance as she lifted a leg to straddle him, but she took the help.

Her hands found his cheeks again.
"I love you, too."

She could feel him, underneath her. She could feel the way he positioned himself underneath her as his mouth found hers again. And she moved, too. Opening herself to him, for him, for them.

The moan escaped his lips quietly as…

She slipped over him, her body sinking down, all the way down.

"Emma?"

Killian gripped her at her hips firmly as all the breath left his body. His eyes closed, only to open again and search out her face.

"I love you."

He felt absolutely perfect inside her. Her hips grinded slowly into him, before pulling back again.

"I love you, too."

Her hands moved up into his hair. Her fingers found that spot at the nape of his neck. When he head fell back, eyes closed and sigh on his lips, she kissed him. Sweet. Soft.

His hold on her tightened. His hands petted. Encouraged. Promised.

"Emma, don't stop." His eyes opened back on her again. "Don't ever stop."

Encouragement turned into urging. Hands and hips moved with her, driving and spurring her on with exquisitely slow movements.

"Never," she breathed out quietly. "I'll never stop."

She knew what they were both promising…

"I'm going to hold you to that, love," Killian murmured.

An arm wrapped once again around her waist. Once again, he was switching positions.

This time, the weight of his body never left hers. Her hands came to grip at his waist, holding on tight as he thrust deeper and deeper inside of her.

"Never stop."

"Never, love."

"Killian."

"I love you."

"I love you."

Forever? That sounded amazing…

He saw her running, and he hated it. He saw the pain and the self-loathing coming in and destroying the moment they were having. Because she was still Emma. She was still the woman who had walked out him. She was still the woman who had cut him so deeply that he had walked away from her. It was in that same moment that he realized that it wasn't all about him. It was about her. It was going to be her decision to get well or stay with those walls up high and all by herself.

If she chose to stay hidden… If she chose to escape back into herself after he opened himself up to her…

No woman had ever had that effect on him. She did. She always would.

"You came back early," Killian noted, breaking the silence between them. She had said… But what did that matter if she wasn't capable on all levels. What if he lost her again?

Emma in his arms. Sometimes it felt like he was still dreaming. He'd stayed quiet, running a hand down from hip to knee. If he spoke, would she leave? She said that she loved him. She told him to never stop. But when they weren't in the middle of an incredibly passionate lovemaking session, would all that change?

With her back against his chest, he felt the raise of her shoulder.

"I've been back."

Been?

She looked over her shoulder, her eyes trying to find his under long lashes.

"I got back to Boston Wednesday," she murmured softly. Quietly, she turned back around, fitting herself against his body.

Wednesday?

"Where have you been then?" Killian asked, frowning into her shoulder.

"I… rented a hotel room," she answered. "I had a lot of things to do and figure out."

Lips pressed to her shoulder blade, his mind began to wander at that bit of news.

"Did your parents know?" he asked. Was it only him that she'd kept the secret from? "Henry?"

Emma shook her head. "I didn't tell anyone. Not my parents. Not Henry." She turned her head again, "They still believe that I am in New York."

He nodded, but he didn't know why. Just in acknowledgement of her words. They thought the same thing that he was led to believe.

"Wait a second." Realization dawned on him at the mentioning of her family. "Emma?"

For a second, she laid there contently. Then… she turned around in his arms, her eyes open and curious as she looked at him.

"What?"

Maybe it was the slight worry mixed in with his frown. Emma smiled, her eyes shifting off to the side.

"I parked in the back," she told him softly. "They don't know that I'm here. They won't see my car."

It was exactly what he was thinking.

"They… don't know about us," Killian said slowly. "Or…" Her previous declaration of love wasn't leaving him without apprehension. There was still a chance… "They didn't know about our past."

Emma bit down on her lip, a shy smile still shining through.

"My mom only had good things to say about you when I spoke to her," she assured him.

"And Dave?" Killian's eyes widened, waiting for a response on that. "I could not actually tell if there was something amiss he felt about me."

"I think…" Emma's hand trailed through the chest hair, making a path down his stomach. Her eyes followed "They were beginning to think things. And Mom reacted the way Mom reacts. And Dad reacted the way Dad reacts." She lifted her eyes back to him. "Don't worry about them. I was assured by all that they really like you, and that you are an amazing man."

"And that's… something that… should matter to me?" Killian asked her carefully. "Being on your parents' good side is a good thing because…"

He wanted her to confirm it. Even when he wasn't sure where her state of mind was at, he wanted her to say it. It had to come from her, clear and sober, that she was back in his arms to stay. He wanted… everything. All of her.

"Because… you make their daughter very happy," she finally finished for him.

He felt the smile reach his heart, tugging on him firmly and filling him almost to bursting. His arm wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her all the closer to him.

"I-"

"Killian?"

His name left her mouth softly.

A nervousness crept back into his body so quickly. He'd let his guard down the merest fraction, had let only a few words turn his heart solely into hers. For that, he would have to pay.

Her hand fell onto his arm and she held on tight. The next words… were sure to have more meaning that what she'd already said.

Killian offered her a smile, his eyes locking on hers while making sure that he didn't wear his heart on his sleeve.

"Yes, love?" It wasn't broken. It was a normal tone. Just as it had to be.

Emma's eyes did roam. Her eyes crossed over his face, his shoulder, and finally back again.

"I need to be honest with you. About a lot of things."

It wasn't going to matter. That she loved him or that he loved her, was it?

"Yes?" One word. One syllable. Because that made feelings easier to disguise.

Emma's hand tightened even more. The nervousness that was in her was just as palpable.

Why would she come here and profess her love to him if she was only going to turn right back around?

"The reason I told everyone- and it was everyone- that I was in New York on business these last few days was because I had a lot of things to figure out." That hand loosened over him just slightly. "I came back originally as planned. Wednesday."

"Which was more than three days ago," Killian filled in. But it didn't take the place of any missing pieces.

"Killian?" And her hand moved upwards. Her eyes follow the trek of her fingers as they went to touch his cheek.

"What have you been doing, Emma?"

He didn't want her out of his bed. What he wanted was her wholeheartedly and completely.

She still wasn't looking at him though. Not in his eyes. Not where it mattered most.

"I went to see my doctor," she finally whispered. "I went to talk to someone about me." She looked up at him then, her eyes cautious and yet open at the same time. "For me."

Watching her, seeing the expectation on her face but not knowing what it was for, he finally shook his head.

"What do you mean, Emma?" he asked quietly. He reached for the hand that was laying between them on the bed. He held her fingers tight. And he waited.

"Killian."

It was only because she needed to pause. He didn't interrupt her. He gave her time.

"I'm… I've been… depressed," she finally got out. It was barely a whisper as he looked at her. Those eyes. They rested on him, trying to read him.

"Emma." He gripped her hand even firmer. "I know that you were battling something. I knew that you struggled with things in your life and about you. I know that's why you called yourself damaged."

Her head tilted back just slightly. Quiet, for another moment.

"I've been like that for a long time," she confessed. "I didn't realize how bad it was. I never realized that it wasn't something I didn't have to live with. I figured that…" Her eyes blinked at him, as if she was thinking and processing at the same time. "It was a part of me. Feeling the way I did about myself and life was set in stone."

Killian watched her closely. He listened to each word, not missing one. It was the meaning that was significant…

All in past tense. So what did that mean?

"And now?" It came out gruffer than he'd expected, but the question remained.

Emma let her hand smooth down his cheek and back over his neck. Maybe she was thinking about how to answer that.

"And now… I don't think that's true," she told him. Emma shook her head, sighing while her hand fell over his shoulder. "I don't think that I have to be stuck living a life that isn't fulfilling. Or live a life where I'm never satisfied with myself or others. Killian?" She met his gaze. This time it was strong. "I have depression. I suffer from depression. And it's something that I need to work on. For me."

She'd said for her, but he felt a weight lifting from his own chest. She had admitted to… something in a very courageous way.

"I want to get help for… my illness," she told him softly. This time she smiled. "It's an illness. I don't know why I'm afflicted with it, but I am. Maybe one day I will know. It won't be tomorrow. Or the next day. But I will find out how to cope with it. Not by myself, but with doctors."

"So… when you're were away…"

"I saw my doctor," she told him quietly, tilting her head again. "I started my process of trying to figure this out. I go see a psychotherapist next week. And, hopefully, I will soon be diagnosed with…"

"Diagnosed with depression," Killian murmured, nodding his head.

"It's not that simple. It's not that cookie-cutter." Emma lifted her shoulder in a shrug. "I've been doing a little research. I don't know what my final diagnosis will be. There are… a couple possibilities I think I'm looking at. I… don't know. But, in all honesty, I'm hoping that therapy is what my doctors see as the best outlet for getting better. Otherwise…" She shook her head. "It could be actual medication. And for some reason, that sounds a little harsher to me. It seems less in my control and more of a problem that way. So… I'm hoping… for therapy." Emma nodded that time. Her eyes connected with his.

What was she thinking? Did she think that would scare him off?

Killian's lip trembled into a smile.

"You're really doing this." There was a bit of awe in his voice. There was a sense of pride for the woman who was sharing his bed.

"I'm really doing this," she agreed.

For some reason… There was more. He knew that there was something more. Something that would impact… him? Them?

"What else, Emma?"

She looked… not quite sad. She looked as if, yes, there was more. And this was the part she was more worried about sharing.

"I… I love you… Killian." Her eyebrows raised slightly while she watched him. "I really do."

He smiled, although he knew… Something…

He wanted to dip his mouth down over hers ad kiss her, but he didn't.

"I love you, too, Emma."

"I…" There was no smile. Instead, there was a fierceness that read as her being strong. He liked strong Emma. He loved fierce Emma. Always had. Always would.

"I want to be with you," she continued.

There was a but coming…

"But…"

There it was, and he felt it in his heart.

"I need to put me first," she whispered, still looking right into his eyes. "I need to work on me and get me to a point in my life where second-guessing every choice and every happenstance as if it's my fault. I need to be in a place where I'm actually good and healthy, and that's not regarding anyone other than myself."

Killian felt the slack of his mouth. He felt the instant way it the inside of his mouth began to dry.

"You don't…"

Why had she come here… if she couldn't stay? Why?

"I can't."

She couldn't. That was the answer she gave him.

Emma didn't retreat. She stayed right there, one hand on his chest and the other still secure in his own hand.

He wanted to push away. Not really. He was supposed to though.

"You can't." The smile was nothing but an involuntary lift of his lip. "Then…"

"I love you, Killian."

Saying it didn't change everything else. She wouldn't pull away, but he felt a strong need to.

"And that means what… for us… if you can't?"

Emma licked at her bottom lip before scraping her teeth over it.

"I've never felt like this before." She shook her head. "I know it's not about the sadness. I know that it's real."

"But…"

"If I needed time?" This time… it was her hand closing around his, her eyes looking at him imploringly. "If… I admit to you that… I want to work on me, but it doesn't change the fact that I love you and want you?"

Was she… He thought that… she was… She was asking him to give her time.

"Killian, if I said to you that I want to be with you as soon as I know it's right for the both of us…"

"You want me to wait on you?" he asked. Stunned was one was to describe.

Emma took in a deep breath, holding it as her eyes never left his.

"Yes. That is why I am here. I want to know if you could ever love me enough to do that for me."

Under his hand, he felt the moisture that was beginning to collect in her palm. A nervous Emma. The woman who loved him, but wanted to love herself just as much.

It wasn't that she had given a specific time frame. She had just thrown a request out there to him. And… wasn't there only one answer to give.

"Emma?"

Killian pushed himself towards the edge of the bed. He put space between them that hadn't been there since she had walked unannounced into his apartment and into his bed.

"Yeah?" she asked, her eyes even wider still.

He felt the sudden purse of his lips. He held her gaze. He watched her. For signs of belief. Disbelief. Gumption. Nerve.

"What in the hell do you think?"