A/N: Hope no one's upset I'm back early. I've been having a sad night- since I moved home to take a job for the summer I'm not near any of my friends, especially a very special and handsome one, and I'm missing them a lot and on top of that my family members also went out to places I wasn't invited so I'm alone babysitting the puppy because everyone knows I have no plans. But I've still got my writing which was why I got this AND the epilogue done tonight, nearly a week ahead of schedule! So I thought I'd put it up now because I'm too excited. I felt a lot of pressure writing this chapter because, one, it's the last before the epilogue and two, people were pretty fired up about Killian. I hope I've done it all justice. The epilogue will go up tomorrow night most likely and I'll say my long thank yous then and let you in on my plans for my next two AUs. So for now, a quick thank you for all the support, it's been amazing! Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Song: watch?v=B9tc9R_Y3FY

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of abuse and self-harm.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

For the next week Emma's life went back to normal- or at least she pretended that it did. Emma didn't tell anyone about the concert and especially not the offer Marco gave her. She felt the pang of guilt for that decision when Mary Margaret greeted her Monday morning, worrying about how Emma was, but in all honestly, Mary Margaret couldn't keep a secret to save her life and Emma refused to let the school find out what she'd done and think it was because of them. This offer was for Emma and her alone. And then there was the overwhelming absence that she tried to ignore, tried to fill with the mountains of homework she'd missed and extra shifts at the diner to make some money for Boston. She knew she needed to be mad at the man with the shaggy black hair for not even saying goodbye before no longer sitting just behind her in history or whispering words to her as they passed in the hall. But the anger never really came, it was just sadness.

Sadness because she'd no longer see that gentle smile that showed up against all odds when he saw her.

Sadness because she'd lost her first love.

Overwhelming and numbing. Cold and painful.

How did she go back to being alone after making Killian a home in her heart? The rhythm of her heartbeat that kept a steady thrum under the music of Tchaikovsky that seemed to be all that kept her going since waking up without him?

For once in her life Emma wasn't content anymore with covering the absence with anger and self-harm. For once she wanted a damn explanation. She deserved a damn explanation. And what made her so angry was that Killian knew that. He knew what she'd gone through with her parents. He knew she'd spent eight years dealing with intense abandonment issues, given up her music because of how much they'd screwed her over. And yet he'd done the same thing.

Maybe she'd be brave enough to show up at his place when she arrived in Boston, plant herself on the doorstep and refuse to leave until Killian fessed up to why he was such a coward.

And then she would go to play piano for the Boston Ballet because at least now she'd always have music. Her parents had taken music from her. Emma was determined not to let Killian steal it too.

Emma pushed back from her piano, settling the cover down over the keys. Granny would be annoyed if she spent any longer up in the apartment working through a movement from the ballet Giselle when she was supposed to be working. But it was like an addiction. Emma craved the keys, craved the melody, like an alcoholic who'd been sober for years and then had one really, really good drink and all the abstinence was out the window. At least Granny was good natured about it, infinitely pleased that Emma was playing again. Smiling again- or at least trying to so long as she didn't remember Killian.

Pulling on her work apron from where she'd thrown it over the couch arm, Emma hurried down the stairs, right into the Diner, the sounds of plates clacking and too loud conversations a stark contrast from the swooping melodies that had filled the apartment just before. Granny came out of the kitchen as she hurried down the hallway, handing her a plate with lasagna and fries, with a good natured smile.

"Table six." Emma centred the plate on her palm with a nod. "You're sounding good," Granny commented as Emma backed out of the hallway, into the main Diner.

"It's coming. Second movement's still too choppy," Emma answered with a shrug, the kind that wasn't self-depreciating but rather more of the wait for a week, I'll get it kind.

"I like you like this," Granny mused, making Emma blush.

"Me too," she replied quietly, turning and dropping the plate at the table of an older woman she vaguely recognized from one of Granny's church meetings. At least she wasn't going to be surprised by Marco and his strange ta-da ambushes again when she was working. The man promised he'd call from then on if he needed to meet.

The door to the Diner chimed open, coming with it a cool puff of wind, the last of the winter chill. Emma turned towards the sound to welcome the newcomer and stilled, glad she'd already put down the food.

Apparently it wasn't Marco's ta-das she needed to worry about.

Standing at the door, looking very unsure of himself, a small bouquet of buttercups clutched in his hand, was Killian. Wearing dark, new, jeans. No patches. Killian. A dark navy dress shirt was open a few too many buttons, another article of clothing Emma didn't recognize. Killian. Hair cut so it was still long but now artfully so and not just because it was shaggy. Killian. Face with more colour than she'd ever seen before, though it was quickly draining from his skin. Killian.

Killian looked good. Really good. Like finding Liam had given him a new lease on life. She could just imagine Older Liam taking one look at Killian's shabby wardrobe and messy hair and marching him to a mall to clean up. Emma could picture all the food Older Liam had piled onto their plates when he saw how skinny his younger brothers were. With a pang Emma realized that Killian looked far better now than he ever did when Emma was the one he was holding on to.

Her heart ached. Her feet twitched, wanting to run to him. Her fingers itched to run through the soft black hair. Her cheeks ached with the desire to act on the muscle memory and smile. But she didn't. She didn't do anything at all.

Because for all she'd missed him she was still mad.

Downright pissed.

"Shut the door," Granny hollered, coming out of the kitchen. She stilled, just like Emma had when she spotted who the door was balanced against. Killian stepped forward and the door shut with a final whoosh of cold air. "Well," she drawled, not sure what to make of her newest Diner guest. "Emma?" she asked after a long moment, hand going out to touch Emma's shoulder. Emma flinched away, unintentionally bringing her closer to Killian.

The Diner guests were starting to watch the strange interaction happening in the centre of the restaurant. Of course they would know who everyone was – Granny, the proprietor, Emma, the angry tortured girl and the new British boy who never said anything and whose little brother sometimes helped out in the kitchen. What they didn't seem to know was what part everyone played.

They didn't know that Granny had raised Emma after her parents traded in their roles for a lucrative series of orchestra concerts. Well, to be fair, word about that had probably gotten around to everyone since September, but they didn't know that Granny was her foster mother. That even when her parents were still her legal guardians they hadn't sent a single penny to help with Emma's expenses. They'd washed their hands of Emma the moment they got in the taxi.

The people staring at them didn't know that Emma had given up her music because of what happened to her. They didn't know she'd spent years trying to live up to expectations of her parents and then spent just as long battling with the idea that she hadn't been able to meet them so she'd become an orphan. They didn't know that she'd spent years self-harming and had only recently started to come out of the habit. They didn't know she'd started playing again, was going to Boston in July to play for The Boston Ballet Company. They didn't know how much that healing had to do with the man standing at the door and the old woman behind her.

The diners didn't know that man had spent years being abused by his only parent after the death of his mother. They didn't know what a protective streak he had in him for his younger brother and what a desire he had to find his older brother. They didn't know that Granny had taken care of him for a week after he'd been entered into foster care and that without her help he'd had ended up who knew where without any connection to Little Liam. They didn't know he'd said he loved Emma and then abandoned her when his brother came along, a better offer.

No, the people didn't know much. But Emma was starting to wonder if she knew much about Killian either.

Killian had promised to stay with her. They'd never said forever but the implications were there. Or maybe Emma had read too far into it? Maybe she'd jumped to conclusions when presented with the first person to get under her walls. But Killian had told her he loved her. She hadn't made that up because she'd said it right back. And love meant he shouldn't just throw her away when his brother showed up. Emma knew that because her parents had never loved her and they'd done the same thing.

Why had Killian come back now? Why had he made the four-hour drive now when he could have said goodbye the day she left Boston and only travelled ten minutes? Emma wanted to know so badly but she couldn't force her mouth open to ask. She could only stare.

"Emma," Granny said after the silence had enveloped all the patrons and even the workers in the kitchen, "why don't you take our guest upstairs for a chat?"

It was like Emma was on autopilot. She didn't argue that she had a shift to finish, or that she was angry and didn't want to hear excuses. She didn't make any move to get Killian to follow. She just turned and marched into the back hallway and up the stairs. There was an element of satisfaction as she heard Killian's slow footsteps, boots crunching on the stairs. He sounded weary and upset.

A part of Emma was happy about that. Good. Killian deserved that.

But another part of her wanted to make it better. Thought that maybe if she made Killian feel better it would help her too? But he was going to have to work awfully hard before she acted on that desire.

Emma walked into the apartment, leaving the door open for Killian who was a few feet behind her and went into the living room. She glanced around the room before deciding to settle at the piano, feeling the comfort of the familiar wood bench seeping up her back. Of course, with Killian coming into the room she was also reminded of all the hours spent on said bench with his hand running up and down her back. Emma pushed the thought away.

Killian entered, still holding the little bouquet. There was more uncertainty for him in picking a spot, the space he'd gotten used to being next to Emma where he was not welcome at the moment. After a long moment he sat on the couch, sinking into the dip in the middle.

After a terribly long moment of staring at each other Emma had had enough. She needed to break the silence or she was going to give up on the conversation all together, turn around to the keys and keep working on that Giselle movement. Or she was going to scream in his face and all hope for a civil conversation would be gone.

"Liam's been good for you," Emma said slowly, motioning to his clothing with her hands, and proud of herself for keeping her voice so level and quiet.

Killian's hand came up and he scratched behind his ear, bouquet waving as his hand moved. Was he ever going to give her the flowers? Maybe he was scared to come near her that she'd hit him like that first day of school. "Aye," he replied sheepishly. "Liam wasn't pleased with the conditions we've been keeping. I said we were fine but he wants to take care of us."

Silence fell again. Despite her swirling feelings she was glad of it. Killian and his younger brother deserved someone to look out for them. Emma still vividly remembered Killian's response to Granny taking care of him. Now he'd have that regularly. Maybe he'd get to spend the next while being the teenager he'd never been able to become.

"Emma," Killian started, voice soft. Emma shook her head. She didn't want the tenderness. She needed blunt. An explanation. Something that wouldn't make her fall more in love with him before he left her for good.

"Just tell me why you're here," Emma cut in with a weary sigh, feeling the exhausting emotions weighing her down even more now. "My emotions can't handle anymore shit," Emma added with a vulnerable genuineness.

Killian at least had the decency to look ashamed. Good. "I made a mistake."

Emma snorted in disbelief. "That's hardly a good answer."

"As to why I'm here or why I left?" Emma raised a brow, not deigning him with a response. Killian sighed. "I guess that means I start at the beginning?" Emma kept watching him, fighting to keep her face completely blank. She used to be so good at it. Now it was a struggle. It was like returning to music had started bringing her emotions back as well. When Killian got no encouragement from her he once again scratched behind his ear. "Seeing Liam again," he started, voice quiet, "was one of the best moments of my life. There was a part of me that had thought I'd never find him again. It made me forget everything in that moment, really that whole night. And part of that was that I forgot what you'd gone through." Finally, the emotions broke through Emma's mask when he admitted to forgetting about her, a quick cringe creasing her face. Killian acknowledged it with a frown of his own.

"Look, Emma, I'm a selfish man." Emma snorted in disbelief. How was Killian, of all people, selfish? "It's true," Killian argued with conviction. "I kept Lee with me for ten years. Ten years of thinking I was protecting him from abuse but really, he was still exposed to it. Had I given him up he could have had a better life. You should hear him talk about Ingrid. I kept him from that because I couldn't bear to lose another brother. And then, when I thought I couldn't get anymore selfish, I left you. I knew what had happened to you. But I could only think about myself, and getting to spend that night with my brother. And then when I got it, I wanted more. So I begged Liam to let me stay with him. No matter what the cost," Killian's voice broke at the end. Emma felt something inside her soften but she still wasn't forgiving him.

"You didn't even say goodbye," Emma whispered, the softening inside allowing the words to come out before she could stop them.

Killian glanced down at his lap at her words. "I was ashamed. I knew what I was doing by the morning but I knew if I saw you I'd not go back with Liam until the law told me too. And I needed Liam. For once, I wanted to be the little brother."

"You hurt me."

Killian nodded, accepting her words and looking like she'd beaten him with a baseball bat. Again, Emma found a grim satisfaction in that, to know he was hurting the way she did. "I won't pretend I didn't. I knew what I was doing when the initial surprise at Liam's appearance went away. I know I promised you I'd never leave. I know what doing the concert meant to you and that it was because of what I needed. I was no better than some pirate, taking what I could and leaving destruction in my wake. I sickened myself with how selfish I was. Still am, really. If it's any consolation, I've missed you like I missed my hand when I lost it."

"It's not. Not really," Emma answered, though truthfully the hurt was lessening at being acknowledged. Her parents had never said anything about hurting her that last phone call. It had all been about them. At least while Killian was selfish, he recognized where she fit in. But how did she fit in now? "Okay," Emma said slowly. "That was a week ago. Why are you here now? And why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

Now Killian seemed to remember the bouquet in his hand. He stood and held it out to her, watching her. Emma saw it for what it was, a peace offering with the promise of more to come. She considered the flowers. She wanted to take the buttercups. She wanted to acknowledge that she was potentially forgiving him. But there was still that part of her that was afraid of getting hurt if she did. After another long moment Killian sat back down, flowers still in his hand. Emma only felt a little bad for the slight.

"One question at a time, eh love?" he asked. Emma's stomach twisted at the name. Had he come back because he loved her? "After you and Lee went back to Storybrooke I realized my life wasn't in Boston right now. So, I had a chat with Liam. Thankfully Liam only wants what's best for me and Lee and well, what's best isn't Boston."

"Wait," Emma cut in, fingers practically tingling with what she was pretty sure Killian was alluding too. "If that's not Boston-"

"It's here, Emma. In Storybrooke." Emma's heart sped up until she was pretty sure it was skipping beats. This wasn't just some thing he could surprise her with. Not if he wanted her not to lose control of her emotions.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Emma's voice came out sounding breathless and that annoyed her. "You didn't text or call? Hell, your brother's in the Navy, you could have sent something in Morse Code."

Killian snorted but quickly sobered. "I was scared you'd tell me not to come."

"What?" she gasped out. She had been desperate for Killian to say something to her. This would have been a hell of a something but at least it was something.

"I was scared you'd tell me to stay in Boston. I couldn't risk that because of what I'd asked of Liam. Somehow my brother loves me enough to leave his job in the Navy when I asked to come back here. He said it was fine, that he couldn't stay in the Navy with two younger brothers to look after. I just sped up his decision. It took us the week to close loose ends. Liam made us go to the doctor and dentist and barber and got us clothes that fit. He's put us on a diet to gain weight after the doctor said we were pretty close to malnourished," Killian bowed his head as he said that, clearly ashamed that he hadn't been able to look after his younger brother better. "After Liam sent in his letter to be discharged, he took the money you'd given us and used it to pay off the rent in Papa's house until the end of June. We can't stay here forever because Liam's getting a job with the Boston Harbour Patrol but we're going to finish out the school year. I'm sorry I can't stay with you for good here, but I bought us a few more months. I hope you want that as much as I do and that I haven't fucked things up too irreparably."

Killian huffed out a breath after his spiel. Emma sat on the bench, watching him and processing what he'd just said. Killian had convinced his brother to come back to Storybrooke for her. Emma. That was something her parents hadn't ever done. They'd never ended a contract to come back for her. Killian had convinced his brother to give up his job, essentially his whole life, because he wanted to come back for the girl he loved. Even if that meant just a few more months. Asking his brother could have made Liam angry, like Killian didn't actually want to be a part of his family. It could have screwed everything up. But Killian had done it anyways because he'd seen how selfish he'd been and realized that he needed Emma, just as much as he needed his brothers.

Emma hadn't expected such a sacrifice for her or opinion about her. First Marco and now Killian. It felt like all the times in the past few weeks where Emma had wondered about being the common link between abandonments. And now it felt like the opposite, like she was the common denominator between people making big gestures for her. Like she was worth it.

And Killian had no idea that she was also going to Boston in July. He'd convinced his brother to give it all up just for a few months, not even considering the possibility that there could ever be more.

Maybe there really could be more for the two of them.

"Why did you bring the flowers?"

Killian glanced at the buttercups, the stems a little crushed as he'd squeezed them in her hand. "Lee reminded me that I'd never taken you out on a date," he answered, ears turning bright pink. Emma tried to swallow her smile; she was trying to be strict. She wasn't ready for Killian to know how she was feeling about him. "The little lad told me you weren't my girlfriend until we went on a date. He found these in some poor lady's front window box in Boston just before we left and told me to give them to you when I came. I didn't have the heart to tell him you probably wanted nothing to do with me because I'm a right old git. But I said I'd try." Killian sat the flowers down on the coffee table, pushing them slightly towards her before standing. "I won't take up any more of your time then, love. Sorry to have bothered you, but I just needed to explain." With a final nod and sad smile Killian turned and walked away.

Emma reached forward and grabbed the buttercups, pulling them up to her face so she could look at them better. The thought of Little Liam hoisting them from some old lady's house made her laugh. The thought of his older brother swallowing his pride to come and make sure Emma understood, knew he felt terrible for his actions and didn't want to abandon her, made a warmth flow into her belly.

Emma wanted that feeling to continue. She didn't want to lose the warmth because she was stubborn or wanted to hold a grudge. Killian wasn't her parents. With that Emma realized her parents weren't any body but her genetic carriers anymore. They had given Emma her blonde hair and green eyes and musical talent but they hadn't raised her to have an all-consuming desire to keep her family intact, to appreciate those who love her. That family, the one she had made, was Granny and Ruby, Killian and Little Liam. Emma had spent years wanting family but without her noticing they'd found her. She wasn't about to lose half of them because she wouldn't forgive Killian.

Emma rushed to the door, throwing it open.

"When did you want to have that date?" she asked breathless, a timid smile forming on her lips as Killian turned to her from his spot halfway down the staircase.

"How about now, love?"

Emma nodded. Now was good.