Chapter Twenty One: My Love Will Keep You Warm

"Killian!"

They had pulled him from the water and laid him out on the ground, away from the cattails and reeds that grew around the edge of the pond. Emma leaned over him, one hand frantically feeling for a heartbeat.

He was so still and so cold. His skin had gone white, the dark lashes resting against his cheeks were like smears of soot on snow, and his lips and fingers were blue.

"Is he?"

She looked up and met Doyle's eyes, the concern written all over his face.

"He's alive," she answered. Killian's heart was beating, but it was slow and sluggish, with what felt like an eternity between each faint thump against her hand.

Please no, I can't lose him.

"What the devil was that?" McIntyre yelled, wringing water out of his shirt. They were all soaked and shivering after wading in, and the water had been so cold that it seemed to burn. It was as if they had passed through fire to reach him instead of ice.

Killian wasn't even shivering. He wasn't moving at all, save for the slight rise and fall of his chest. Somehow, Emma knew that wasn't a good sign.

"Did he fall in? What happened?" Sullivan wondered, crouching down next to Doyle.

What had happened? She'd been showing Fergus a bird's nest in one of the trees, when McIntyre and Sullivan had appeared and asked why Killian hadn't answered their calls. The five of them had all paused, the same thought clearly going through their minds. Emma had started moving, scanning the ground for Killian's boot prints and following them through the woods with the others behind her. Her mother had taught her how to track, how to follow a trail and read the signs left in the bent grass and snapped twigs. She faltered when got to the point where he had obviously fallen. Emma bent down to the finger marks in the dirt, the heavy depression where she thought his knee had landed. Was he injured? The footprints led on, straight into the centre of the island, and she got to her feet again and started to run.

The trail he had left behind led her to a pond, and Emma stopped dead at the sight of Killian in the water. His back had been to her, and he was as still as a statue, seemingly frozen in place. She had yelled to the others, she had yelled to him, but he didn't move and when McIntyre had stepped into the water to go after him, he leapt back to the bank immediately, swearing that it was like ice. Emma had dipped her hand in and he was right, it was like plunging into a snow bank. It was colder even than the ocean the night she had jumped in, and she remembered how chilled she had been from that brief immersion. They didn't know how long Killian had been in for, minutes, an hour, but she knew they had to get him out.

When he moved, making the water ripple with his attempts to turn towards them, she had nearly sobbed in relief. But it quickly became clear that he couldn't make it alone, he was weakened and struggling, and Emma had gone into the pond after him. Doyle had tried to stop her, Fergus had tried to follow her, but she pushed them back and plunged right into the icy water. Fear pushed her through the screaming urge to scramble back out, fear that Killian was going to freeze to death right in front of her. He started to collapse and she moved as fast as she could, feeling her boots sink into the mud at the bottom, almost getting trapped by the soft, oozing murk.

She caught him before he went under, wrapping her arms around him and nearly getting pushed down herself by his weight. He was too heavy, she couldn't get him out on her own and she screamed for help.

The men came, fighting their way towards them while she pleaded for Killian to hold on. His eyes opened, and it was like the cold had leeched the colour right from them, the normally vivid blue hue faded and dulled when he looked up at her.

"That's not natural. It's not near cold enough for the water to be like that. There's something wrong here. Just look at it!"

McIntyre was pacing back and forth, staring at the pond and muttering under his breath. There was something strange about it, aside from the shocking cold, the water was nearly black under the clear sky and it rippled with the movement of something hidden under the surface. She could taste something in the back of her throat, something rotten, and she swallowed hard and tore her gaze away from the unsettling sight.

"Killian! Wake up!" Emma begged, looking back down at him and curling her hands into his wet shirt. The long pause between each short breath he took made her die a little inside.

"We need to get him warmed up," Doyle said, "Get him back on the ship and away from this...place."

An insect flew across his face, he waved it away impatiently.

Sullivan and McIntyre pulled Killian up and Doyle took him over his burly shoulders, carrying him like a hunter would haul a freshly killed deer. They pushed their way back the way they had come, Fergus put his arm around her waist and helped her walk, her legs were like jelly and the wet clothes were chafing against her skin. She thought of Killian carrying her from the boat so her feet wouldn't get wet and a choked sob escaped her. Such a simple, chivalrous act, but she knew what he meant by it.

"Gods, Emma, I love you."

It seemed to take forever to make their way through the trees and back to the small rocky beach where they had moored. She sat on the bottom of the boat and the three men lowered Killian down gently, laying him in her lap. He still hadn't roused, his eyes were still closed. McIntyre and Sullivan rowed them back to the Jolly Roger while Doyle slumped down on his seat, breathing heavily and clearly exhausted from the burden he had shouldered.

"Captain! Captain!"

Fergus sounded as scared as she felt. Emma had her hand pressed against Killian's chest, willing his heart to keep beating. She couldn't lose him, not now. Fate could not be so cruel as to give her this man, this beautiful, brave, caring man with his heart so full of love, and snatch him away from her so soon.

"Stay with me," she whispered, her head bent over him. His handsome face was turned up towards her and a tear fell and landed on his cheek, the fat droplet winking in the sun like a diamond. It rolled off in a tight bead, he was too cold for it to melt into his skin.

The crew all crowded around them when they were hauled up the side of the ship and back to the deck. Smee's voice went sharp and authoritative, ordering most of them back.

"Have you been given leave to stop working? Back to your posts, and you, you and you get him below!"

The three crewmen he indicated brought him down into his quarters. Doyle held her elbow and ushered her along the deck behind them, glaring at the rest of the men.

"He needs to be warmed," Doyle said when they got him into the cabin, pressing his hand against Killian's forehead and then his chest, feeling his temperature "We need hot water."

Emma thought of the hip bath she occasionally used that was stored in the hold the rest of the time, "The tub. Set it up in the galley right in front of the fire so it can be filled as soon as the water's ready."

"You heard her! Do it!" Smee ordered the crewmen and they hustled out, looking back over their shoulders at the unmoving figure on the floor.

Fergus, Smee and Doyle got Killian stripped. He was laid on the bed and Fergus bundled up the sodden clothes, carrying them out. Emma pulled every blanket and flung them over him, bunching them around his body. His eyes were still closed, lips still blue and bruised looking, but his heart was still beating. She pulled her hand away from his chest and covered it carefully with the thickest, warmest wool blanket she could find.

"Ma'am."

Doyle's hand landed on her shoulder. Emma looked up at him. He gave a reassuring squeeze.

"Captain's strong. He'll pull through."

"What happened?" Smee asked. Doyle pulled him out of the room, speaking in a lowered voice as he recounted how Killian had disappeared and they had found him in the water. The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving them alone in the silent and darkened room.

There was nothing she could do now but wait. It took a while to heat enough water to fill the tub, she knew that well enough. They'd carry him to the galley when it was ready and it could be poured straight off the fire and into the bath instead of going through the time-consuming process of bringing buckets back and forth by hand.

Emma sat down heavily on the edge of the bed next to him. Her skirt was wet and splattered with mud at the hem, ripped and torn in several spots. She had ruined another garment saving someone she loved.

She loved him. Killian Jones. Pirate. The dark scoundrel who had captured her ship. The jailer who had locked her in a cage. He was not the man she had ever imagined herself loving, but somehow he was more than she had ever dreamed. The grieving brother. The lonely and scarred soul. The gentle and careful lover.

The man who looked at her the way her father looked at her mother.

She had almost told him that morning, she had almost told him a dozen times or more, but something had always held her back. It hadn't felt right to say it over the dinner table or when he was about to head up on deck, but she knew the real reason was because she had been too scared. Falling in love, she had dreamed of it for years and when it finally happened it had terrified her.

"Coward!" she rebuked herself in her head. And now Killian might...she had finally told him but she didn't know if he'd even recognized her at that point, let alone heard what she said, and now he could die without knowing that she loved him.

Emma fell forward at the thought, onto his blanket covered chest and pressing one hand against his cheek while she cried. He couldn't die, he couldn't leave her. He was still so cold, and he had always been so warm, from that first night when he had brushed a heated kiss across the back of her hand, to only a few short hours ago when his flushed skin had been pressed against her, holding the morning chill at bay.

"Please," she sobbed, "I wish I could warm you up, Killian. My love."

As soon as the words left her lips Emma felt her heart start to race. It beat frantically in her chest, rapid as a hummingbird's wings, and a great rolling wave spread out from underneath her breast. She could feel it surging right in her blood, stinging and prickling, raising gooseflesh on her skin as the wave ran down her arms and shot into her hands.

She sat up with a gasp. Her hands were glowing, glowing like the skin was lit from within, and a great white light poured from her fingers and nearly blinded her.

"What's happening?"

Emma squinted as she held her hands up to her face. The feeling inside, the strange power that was surging and flowing everywhere now, it hurt and it felt wonderful at the same time. The light shone against her face and she thought she should be afraid, but it felt safe, it felt like sunshine and her mother's smile and her father's eyes and it felt like Killian made her feel, loved and cherished and warm.

It was warm!

She pressed her hands against the sides of Killian's face. The light disappeared into his skin, and she saw the deathly pallor start to fade. His lips turned pink and they parted, she could feel his breath against her own face as she hovered over him and it was warm.

She yanked the blankets back, sending them haphazardly to the floor while she climbed on him, straddling his hips and laying her hands over his heart. The light continued to emanate from her palms and she saw it spread out under his skin. The normal healthy colour returned and the veins were lit up, she could see his blood moving through them, she could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he now drew deep breaths, not shallow gasps. Emma's lips were pressed tight together, she let out a sharp exhale and the light pulsed and flashed. It was brighter than anything she had ever seen before, as if a firework had exploded in her hands and for a split second she swore she saw right through Killian's skin and under the layers of muscle and bone and straight into his heart, red and warm and beating.

Emma fell back, shocked. The white light faded away, her hands stopped tingling and she blinked rapidly, seeing spots in front of her eyes as if she'd stared right into the sun. What was that? Where had it come from?

"Emma?"

She looked down. Killian's eyes were open, they were once more that deep ocean blue and he was staring up at her in confusion.

"What-?"

His voice was cut off when she flung herself forward, draping over his warm chest and kissing him. Even his necklace felt heated, the normally cool metal hot against her skin when his arms came around her and he returned her desperate embrace.

"Emma...darling...love...what...why….I never thought I'd say this, but stop for a moment."

She had kept on kissing him while he tried to speak, until he finally pushed her back gently, sitting up on the bed. Emma touched his face, his shoulders, feeling the urge to both laugh and cry at the same time. He was warm! He was alive! She was just about to launch herself at him again when the door flung open, crashing hard against the wall and both their heads turned towards it.

"The water's almost...Captain?"

"Mr. Smee?"

"CAPTAIN?"

Smee stood in the doorway, his mouth open. Fergus peeked out from under his arm and the same dumbfounded look crossed his face.

"Captain?"

Killian rubbed a hand over his face, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sounded annoyed, "I think we've established that. Yes, I'm the captain, now what do you want?"

Smee continued to gape, "But you were...how?"

Emma stood up and strode purposefully to the door, "As you can see, the captain has recovered. He's fine, we don't need the water now. Have a bath yourself if you like."

"But-"

She shut the door in their stunned faces and leaned against it, palms flat on the wood. She stared at her hands. They looked perfectly normal now. Neatly kept as befitted her station, but they were otherwise ordinary. Had it really happened, had they really glowed with that strange magical light?

Magic. What else could it be? But she wasn't a witch, she couldn't recite a spell, brew a potion or conjure things out of thin air.

Except she just did.

And she had something that could be considered a magical gift, her ability to detect lies.

If she had one gift, maybe there was more. But where did it come from? And why now?

"I remember."

Her nails dug into the door at the sound of Killian's voice. She heard him stand up and the sound of his footsteps behind her, coming closer.

"Something stung me, and I don't know what it did, but I heard Liam's voice shouting for me. I followed it, and I had a vision of him. He was standing right in front of me, and he wanted me to go with him. My head was so clouded, I didn't even know where I was and I couldn't even remember that he was dead. I was going to follow him, but then I heard you calling to me."

She could sense him, standing right behind her. She could feel the heat coming off of him. She had done that, she had made him warm again.

What else could she do?

"I heard you, begging me to come back to you. And you said something else. Was that real, or was that part of my hallucination?"

He had heard her. Emma closed her eyes.

"It was real," she whispered.

His arm went around her waist and he pressed against her back. She felt his breath in her ear, his solid warm body against her from shoulder to hip and she whimpered silently in the back of her throat.

Killian nuzzled at her neck and she tilted her head back against him. He traced a finger against her stomach and asked, "What did you say to me, my darling? I'm not sure if I heard you...correctly."

There was a hesitant note in his voice. He honestly didn't know if she had really said it, he didn't know if she had meant it, he was giving her a way out if she wanted to take it back and deny it.

She had come too far, she had almost lost him. There was no going back, no matter what happened now she couldn't keep holding it in. She flexed her hands and felt something, a little echo of that burst of light.

"I said...I love you."

His arm turned her gently. Emma's eyes were still closed, she reached out blindly and laid her hands on his bare chest. Her fingertips tingled for a moment, but then she felt his heartbeat, steady and strong, and the prickle under her skin vanished.

"Say it again, Emma."

It was both a command and a plea.

She looked at him then. His jaw was set tight and she saw him swallow hard.

"I love you, Killian."

His mouth crashed down onto hers, kissing her fiercely, stealing her breath in the needy press of lips and tongues and teeth and she met his fierceness with her own, up on her tiptoes with her arms around his neck and her hands in his hair. Killian shoved her against the door, the wood biting into her back, his naked body pinning her while he kissed his way down her neck and over her chest.

"Say it again," he mumbled, his beard a rough scrape against the tops of her breasts that was immediately soothed by his hot and questing mouth, "Please."

"I love you."

He shoved her ruined skirt up and yanked the pantaloons she wore underneath down her legs. Emma kicked her feet free and he lifted her, her legs on either side of his hips and she could feel the hard length of him trapped between them. It wasn't just warm, it was burning, he felt like he was on fire in her arms and Emma felt it too, felt the blood rise in her face and her breasts and the needy heat between her thighs. Killian hefted her higher, looking up at her and she felt him position himself with a bend of his knees, he was going to take her right against the door and her heart raced again with eager anticipation.

"The captain is dead!"

They both froze at the yell. Killian's head jerked up and he stared hard at the ceiling.

"You saw him laid out! He's dead and they're just covering it up while they decide which one should be captain now."

"He wasn't dead, he was still breathing."

"Dead or dying, what's the difference?"

An argument broke out above deck. Emma could hear several voices, debating about who should be captain if Killian was in fact dead and she clutched at his shoulders, wanting to scream at them. They were like vultures, poised to strike the second he was down.

"It'll be Doyle or Smee, no doubt. Unless someone else challenges them. Whoever's captain gets it all, the ship, first pick of any prize."

"Never mind that, he gets the captain's bed, with her in it."

She stiffened and Killian pulled away with a harsh curse, setting her back down on her feet.

"I need to take care of this," he muttered.

He pulled open the wardrobe and quickly donned some clothes, shoved his feet into his boots and took up his sword. He looked down at the hilt in his hand and he rolled his shoulders, squaring them with his eyes closed. They opened again and his face was instantly hard, dark with rage and Emma watched him stalk up the ladder and throw back the hatch cover.

"Do I look like I'm dead or dying?" he yelled, setting foot on the deck.

She could picture what had happened, could well imagine that the more opportunistic members of the crew had started making plans when they had seen Killian incapacitated and vulnerable. The potential power struggle if he hadn't recovered, as various would-be captains tried to seize control, of the ship, of the men, and of her.

"I am the captain and master of this vessel and anyone who thinks otherwise can step up right now. Challenge me if you think you can do better! Draw your sword and fight me! If you win, the ship is yours, but if you lose...remember those who have tried and failed before you."

She waited, straining to hear if anyone would accept his challenge. If they did, it would be a fight to the death. But Killian would not be the one to die. Emma looked down at her hands, clenching them into fists. She didn't know what she had done, she didn't know if she could do it again, but she wouldn't sit idly by again while he fought. If she couldn't summon that light again and use it to defend him, she would go for the knife he kept in the top drawer of his desk.

"None would be fool enough to challenge you, Captain. The most cutthroat pirate ever to hoist a sail?"

Smee's voice, obviously backing his captain up.

Her head drifted back and thumped softly against the door. The cutthroat pirate who had been kissing her breathless only moments ago and pleading for her love.

Killian stayed above deck for a long while, shouting orders, undoubtedly making a grand show that he was not only alive, but in full control of the ship. She heard the men answer back, the obedience in their replies of "Aye, Captain!" and she slid down to the floor, sitting with her back against the door. She curled and uncurled her hands while she waited. When he finally came back down Emma held her arms out to him.

"Killian."

He lifted her up and carried her to the bed, sitting down on it and settling her on his lap.

"You went in after me. You saved me," he said in a quiet voice so unlike the harsh tones she had just heard him use.

He looked at her, slight surprise on his face and she frowned at it, "Did you really think I would let you drown? And don't you dare say one word about disobeying orders, you said I wasn't to jump off the ship again and I didn't, did I?"

Killian barked a laugh, "Only you can get away with such cheek to the captain."

That made her think of the situation above deck and her eyes drifted up, "Is everything...handled?"

He sighed, shifting her slightly, "Aye. No one made a move to challenge me, but some were thinking it and that's not good. Smee, Doyle, Fergus, they'll all keep their ears open for any talk, and I need you to do that as well, Emma. If you hear anything about who would make a better captain, any comments about me behind my back, you need to tell me immediately so I can take care of it."

Emma thought about how he took care of comments the crew made behind his back. The split knuckles and Jack Murray's blackened eye, all because of one careless remark. Killian tensed, obviously sensing what she was thinking.

"There's a line between me and the crew that can not be crossed. I don't take pleasure in it, but I will do what I must to keep order on my ship. It always starts out as just talk, but saying someone else could be captain, it makes a man start to think that he could, and then he starts to think that he should be in charge. I can't allow it, I have to hold that line with them because if I don't, they'll see me as weak and someone will try to take advantage."

Emma considered his words. It sounded exhausting, having to always be on guard like that. She brushed her fingers against his forehead, smoothing out the worry lines on his brow.

"It's not easy, is it? Being captain?"

"No."

She put her hand to the back of his neck and she could feel the tension. She pressed her thumb into the tight muscle and rubbed it. He let out a small sound of relief and his shoulders dropped slightly.

"But it has it's perks. I get the largest cabin, the best rations."

"And first pick of any prize? Is that what I am?" Emma asked.

"It's what they think," he admitted, "Most of them, anyway."

He was the cold and forbidding master of the ship, and she was his prize. It was true, and yet they had become so much more. Emma leaned forward, she saw his tongue dart out and lick his lips, but he waited for her to close the distance and the kiss was gentle and soft and warm, everything he kept hidden away from the world. But not from her.

"Everything I've done to you and yet you…love me?"

Still uncertain and hesitant and she supposed she couldn't blame him for doubting her, when she had taken so long to tell him.

"Killian Jones, I love you."

His long fingers worked at the laces of her bodice, opening the garment up. It slid off her shoulders to the floor and he ran his hand down her leg.

"Your skirt."

They both looked at the tears and stains. Emma shrugged, "Ruined, I know."

"I'll buy you a new one. I'll buy you anything you want."

She knew what she wanted. Emma stood up and started to undress him, pulling off his boots, the shirt, the trousers, all the layers he was wrapped up in like armour, kissing the warm skin that was revealed with each piece she removed.

"So warm," she said, laying her head on his thigh and running her hand over his stomach, "You were so cold, I was so scared."

"I'm sorry love, I didn't mean to frighten you."

Emma straddled his hips again, laying her hands on his chest, "Don't do it again. That's an order."

He matched her firm tone, "This is my ship. I give the orders, I don't follow them."

He tried to guide her down onto him, but she resisted, raising an eyebrow at him and giving him her best impression of the look he used when he ordered the crew about. Killian narrowed his eyes at her, but she held fast and he gave up, shaking his head.

"You know that line I talked about? Somehow, you just waltzed right over it without me even noticing. I swear you must have bewitched me."

She felt a guilty jolt, she had to tell him what had happened, "Killian?"

"You win, Princess."

He lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender, "But, I beg you, be merciful."

Emma looked at him sprawled out underneath her. She would tell him, after, but right now she needed to share the warmth.

...

"Killian?"

His eyes were closed but she knew he wasn't asleep.

"Killian!"

"I can't take another round of your tender mercies just yet. Let a man recover for a moment."

He was completely incorrigible at times and she let out an exasperated puff of air, "Not that. But...I need to tell you something."

One eye opened and he turned his head, looking at her. Would he even believe her? She wasn't even sure now if it had really happened or if she had somehow dreamed it.

Killian's face creased with concern when she tried to speak and nothing came, "What is it, Emma?"

It all came tumbling out, she told him how he'd been laying there, pale and blue-lipped, barely even breathing and how terrified she had been that she was going to lose him. She told him about the light, how she had felt it build up inside her and spill out, how it had been warm and she had somehow known it would bring him back.

"Magic," she finished, "I don't know how, but that was magic."

Emma watched his face anxiously. He had listened to her entire tale without saying a word and she couldn't read his expression. He didn't look surprised, or scared, or angry, he looked back at her with nothing more than his normal gaze and after a long moment of silence he finally said, "I always knew you were a witch."

She flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling with a grimace, "Killian."

"Now I understand, you put a spell on me to make me fall for you. No, wait, you bewitched Fergus first, and once you snared him, then you did the same to me."

"I did not!" she protested.

He propped himself up and leaned over her with a smile, "I'm only jesting."

Emma looked at him, "I'm not, it really happened. Do you believe me?"

"Of course I believe you, I'd be dead by now otherwise, wouldn't I?"

She felt her eyes well up at that, as the feeling of complete and utter helplessness flooded over her again, "I almost lost you."

Killian pulled her to his chest as she started to cry and his voice dropped to a soothing lilt, "Now love, don't. I'm fine, it'll take more than a cold dip to do me in. Please stop crying."

Emma sniffed and hiccuped, "I can't. I don't know what's happening to me."

He wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb, "I confess I don't know much about magic. Has anything like that happened before?"

She shook her head.

"Well, perhaps your parents, once we find them? They might know?"

Her parents had certainly seen magic before. She'd heard the stories, curses, fairy dust, spells and True Love's Kiss.

And a warning, magic always came with a price. She shivered. What would be the cost of Killian's life?

"What if we don't?"

Emma finally gave voice to her deepest fear, "What if we never find them? What happens to me then? Where do I go?"

Killian stroked her hair while she buried her face into his shoulder.

"You don't go anywhere. You stay here with me. I know it's a poor substitute for an entire kingdom, but the Jolly Roger could use a woman's touch."

Emma felt the gentle rocking of the ship underneath them. She would stay with him.

The hand in her hair paused, "Darling? Say it again?"

She lifted her head and met his eyes.

"I love you."