This chapter did not want to be written. There is a bit of fluff here but also settling up on some of the different plots in this story, including the election for sheriff and Tink's rescue plans. I apologize that this took so long, but I hope you're still with me.

Thank you again for your comments and reviews. I hope you continue to enjoy this story. I will have this finished by the premiere. I already have another story in mind, but I may hold off a bit on it. We'll see.

The scent of cinnamon was in the air when Emma felt herself drifting between the deep sleep she had fallen into and the wakeful state that was beginning to tug at her. Letting out a soft moan of appreciation at the scent, she burrowed into the soft velvety pillow and let it seep over her. While she felt the cool chill of the evening on her exposed skin, she slowly realized that the rest of her was warm in stark contrast. Her eyes pried open to the low light of the room, soft glow from a faraway lamp that reminded her of candlelight enveloping her along with a fluffy throw blanket that she last remembered seeing across the room.

Running her tongue along her lips to wet them, she expelled a breath and called out his name. There was only one person who might cover her, caring for her even while she was napping. "Killian?"

"There you are, love," he said with a gentleness that she knew he usually only reserved for their shared bed. "I was beginning to worry that you might be under a sleeping curse."

She gave him a tight smile, rolling to her side to better look at him despite the protest of her muscles in her neck and shoulders. "What time is it?" she asked groggily. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

He grinned brightly. "I returned about 5 and it's 6:30 now. I was hoping to rouse you with a bit of your favorite chocolate drink." His hands were wrapped around a large mug, the dollop of whipped cream mountaining over the edge with flecks of the fragrant cinnamon dotting it.

"Hot chocolate for dinner," she noted, reaching out for it with both hands and taking a long sip of it. "I thought you were more traditional."

His smile faltered slightly, a hand reaching back to scratch at the back of his neck nervously, perching on the arm of her couch just a short distanced from her. "I was thinking," he said, his accent thicker when he was nervous. "Your boy called a bit earlier to request dinner with you. He seemed so disappointed when I told Regina that you were asleep that I decided to invite him over and planned to make sure that you were awake." There was a tinge of regret in his expression. "I suggested that he might come by for dinner."

Emma blinked a couple of times, her incredulous expression shining. "You invited Henry and Regina over here?" The newly found peace with Regina was certainly heartfelt, but Emma still felt a bit odd about the relationship with Henry. After the car accident she wasn't sure if Regina would ever trust him in her care again.

"Just the lad," Killian answered, crinkling his eyes as he watched her surprise. "The mayor said she could use an evening off." His hand raked through his hair, leaving little tufts in disarray. "I was thinking I might order you a pizza to share with him. Or I could see if Ruby might drop you something off like a burger? Your choice, love."

Her brow furrowed a bit. "You don't have a request? Or maybe we should wait for Henry? He's pretty opinionated." She watched his shifting and wondered. "You are staying, right?"

There was that soft placating smile, the one he gave her before delivering news. She recognized it well. "I didn't wish to intrude, love," he said hesitantly. "You and your boy need the time to yourselves to try to figure things out. I think he may have some questions about Neal. I didn't want to presume that I would be welcome." She noticed that he had at some point taken off his shoes. His dark sock covered feet rested on the edge of the couch cushion, his hands on his knees.

"You are not intruding," she said firmly, taking another sip of her drink. "I want you here too. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but I like that you are here and encouraging me." She frowned then, a thought darkening her expression. "You like him, don't you? Henry?"

He bit out a chuckle at the insecurity of her question. "Of course," he reassured. "He's a charming lad and a pleasure. Not to mention he is a part of you which makes him all the more special."

The draw of her breath was sharp as she realized she did need to talk to him about that. "I'd like you to stay," she said, surprising herself a little bit. "You don't have to do that whole hiding thing every time he comes over. I have to find a way to balance all this. You, me, him, and…"

He grin was even less hesitant. "I am honored you would wish to include me, but right now we need to pick a dinner choice. He'll be here momentarily."

"Pizza sounds good. Deluxe? I know he liked that." Placing the nearly empty mug on the table next to a stack of catalogs and junk mail that she always meant to go through but never quite managed, Emma stretched and stared down at the throw again. "Did you put this on me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Killian was concentrating on the screen of his phone, clearly ordering the food. "Aye, it was slightly chilly when I returned and you were all curled up in a ball." A brief smile of triumph flashed over him at the completion of his task. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, it's…nice to wake up and find myself having been cared for," she said, choosing a weak word for how she actually felt. She wasn't even sure she knew the correct word for the fuzzy feeling that had bubbled inside her to find herself tucked in the simple throw. It wasn't so much the throw itself but the gesture of it, the fact that he had worried about her becoming chilled, his concern for her comfort and wellbeing. "I suppose I should get up and ready for him."

He gave her a curt little nod, extending a hand to help pull her to standing and then kissing the back of her hand when she was upright. She rolled her eyes at the gesture, but still leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I do believe you're feeling some better?"

The doctor had insisted she take a few days after releasing her from the hospital. While she had not suffered any lasting injuries, she did still feel the effects of the minor ones on her muscles. So with some reluctance she had stayed put, talking to Henry on the phone, alternating visits from Ruby who brought gossip and Mary Margaret who brought wedding materials, and finding herself snuggled up to Killian for a movie or more intimate activities. "I'm fine," she said for what felt like the 100th time that day alone. "I like you being here."

His blue eyes lit at her statement, which was almost as sweetly sincere as declaring that she loved him. Emma was not a woman who let people in either emotionally or physically. And the fact that she had not even protested when he brought a bag over, declaring that he was going to stay during her convalescence, had not gone unappreciated. Tugging her toward him, his grin was worn until his mouth covered hers. Her lips soft and tasting of her favorite chocolate and cinnamon as she parted her mouth for him. One of her hands sat splayed on his chest, feeling the staccato beat of his heart against her palm as their other hands remained entwined near her hip. His free hand was at the nape of her neck tangling into her tousled hair as he deepened the kiss more, swallowing her tiny gasp and moan. He was the first to pull away, her eyes still shut and not seeing his tongue dart to taste her on his own mouth before he spoke. "We best get this out of our system before the lad arrives. No sense traumatizing the boy."

She giggled in response, dropping her forehead to his shoulder. "You're right. You get some drinks and I'll make myself presentable."

His chuckled echoed off the walls. "I should mark this day in my calendar," he said, eyes glowing even more at her confusion when she leaned back to look at him. "You have told me you enjoy my company and that I'm right. I believe I might just be well on my way to winning your heart, love."

Playfully swatting the spot on his shoulder where her head had just been, she rolled her eyes again. "I thought you determined you had won it when I admitted I love you."

"Both of them are banner days."

***AAA***

If Henry was having any qualms about the state of his relationship with now three parents and their significant others, he was not showing it in the least. He answered the polite questions about how he was catching up on his school work, what he missed most about being away from his classes, and even a few about his classmates and friends. He merely smiled when Emma asked if he was tired of such questions that she knew Regina and Neal had both asked on more than one occasion.

"I'm used to it," he said with a shrug, his dark hair falling into his eyes a bit. He shook his head to set it back. "Kind of like pizza."

Killian raised a questioning eyebrow, reaching for another slice as Emma asked him what he meant by the pizza. "I thought you enjoyed eating pizza. You ate nearly three quarters of the pie when I took you for it."

The boy laughed loudly, reaching out and helping himself to another slice as the cheese pulled messily. "I do like it," he confirmed. "It's just that adults seem to think this is all I want to eat. Pizza or burgers."

Emma's mind sorted quickly through the menus of the handful of meals she had shared with her son. "And that's…"

"It's fine," he said, again shooting her a grin through the pizza sauce and cheese. "You don't have to try so hard though. It's cool. I know you like me. You're just trying to impress me."

Her jaw dropped a good inch as she stared at the nonchalant way her son had just assessed the situation. There was no hiding that the meal looked just as he had described it. There was hot, gooey pizza of three types spread out on the coffee table, garlic knots sent their strong aroma into the air, two different types of soda was chilled and being served out of plastic cups, and a chocolate chip cookie from the pizza delivery place was over on the kitchen counter waiting on them. They had shunned utensils and plates, using paper towels instead. Some movie about superheroes was playing on television, the voices low as they chatted about Henry. She blushed slightly at the assessment until she heard Killian chortle beside her. Elbowing him, she glowered angrily. "I seem to remember you thought pizza or burgers were the best choices."

He ducked his head with appropriate regret. "I believe the boy may have found us out, love," he said. "My apologies, lad. I won't allow you to be offended by such horrible food in the future." He reached, stretching his arms, to pull the boxes of pizza away.

"Don't you dare," Henry said with a sharpness, his own hands closing around the cardboard containers. "I love pizza." He shot his eyes toward Emma pleadingly. "I do!"

Biting her lip to keep from laughing, Emma placed a hand on Killian's arm. "I don't know. Killian, we may have hurt his feelings. Too much pizza. It's a bad thing." Her tongue clicked on the top of her mouth as she watched Henry draw in a breath to keep up the protest, but it was lost as she began to laugh at his hurt and determined expression.

"It wasn't such a bad idea," he conceded, drawing his hands away at the same time as Killian, looking to the man for help with his mother. "I do like pizza. But I like other things too."

"Such as?" Killian asked, feeling Emma shake with laughter beside him. "Perhaps you could give us some suggestions for the future." He wrapped an arm loosely over Emma's shoulders, pulling her in toward his side.

"I like spaghetti," he offered, looking skyward as if it might offer a suggestion. "And quesadillas."

"What about grilled cheese?" Killian asked, sneaking a look at Emma who was swallowing the remnants of her laughter that was more a release of nervous energy. He had seen it building in her, the way she had straightened up as if she might be judged over the dust bunnies. "It is one of Emma's favorites."

The young boy's face lit with wonder. "With tomato soup?"

Emma nodded. "I've liked it since I was a kid," she said, brushing aside her usual trepidation at talking about her childhood. Henry did not need to hear those stories or those fears, his own childhood having been steps away from that by being adopted. "Something comforting about it."

"Maybe we could have that next time," he said. "I mean if you invite me over or something. I don't mean…"

"You know that you are welcome to come here," Emma said. "If you have your mom's permission that is." She smiled. "Now eat your dang pizza and let's watch this movie."

***AAA***

The bed dipped as Killian returned to it, having started the coffee and turned the furnace to a more reasonable temperature for them on what appeared to be a lazy Saturday morning. Emma didn't even open her eyes, scooting backwards against his chest and pulling his arm over her middle and letting her hands run over her back his as she reveled in his breath on her neck. "Morning, Killian," she muttered.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked huskily with a hint of teasing in his tone. "I could be some burglar who came across a beautiful woman in this bed and decided to join you." He buried his nose into her hair, the exposed skin cold against her. "Some complete stranger here to compromise your virtue."

She inhaled the scent that was now wafting in from the kitchen. "A stranger who is my own personal heater and makes coffee," she said as though considering the situation. "I would welcome that in my life. Does this stranger do laundry? Does he mop and vacuum? I could use help with that too."

He chuckled, nosing away an errant curl to place his lips against her neck. "He'd do anything you wish for the chance to hold you."

Slapping his arm playfully, she sighed. "You know, I'm not so sure that all those little comments and compliments are sincere. I think you just want to get into my pants."

"So paranoid," he continued his little game with her, his attention to her neck increasing. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were doubting my feelings for you. Perhaps you do still see me as a stranger."

She turned her face toward him, allowing him to redirect his attention to her high cheekbones and the side of her face. Then just as quickly he ran a line down her neck, paying close attention to her pulse. "I did pick you up in a bar," she deadpanned, lifting a hand to caress his stubbled cheek. "I don't usually have good luck with those sorts of things."

"And I thought I picked you up," he answered, his voice confused by her recollection. She might have believed him if he hadn't laughed heartily. "We don't have the most traditional of origins, but I rather like that."

"Me too," she agreed, feeling his fingers under her chin as he gently lifted her face toward his. He was teasing at first, lips brushing and barely touching hers. She felt herself chasing awkwardly after his lips, flipping onto her back and pulling him down to her. He was smiling as their lips met again, nipping at her lower lip to continue his teasing way.

They might have stayed there in the bed, lazily enjoying each other in the cocoon of the blankets and sheets had both of their phones not rung out at the same time. He probably heard it first, that annoying buzz and trumpet of his phone mingling with the melodious tune of hers as their kiss lingered and hands wandered in what could be described as strategically aimless patterns.

"I swear if this city isn't under attack I'm going to throw my phone at the head of whoever is calling," Emma said, shimmying out of Killian's grasp to reach her phone. Her frown deepened as she stared at the screen and its identification of the caller.

Killian reached for his own, sliding his finger across it to answer. "Good morning Lady Belle," he said, throwing himself against the stack of pillows on the bed. "What can I do for you today? Are you seeking another ship? Perhaps one that can fly?"

"Your sarcasm is duly noted," the blonde woman said through the phone. "And I thought we had done away with that nickname."

"Yes, my apologies," Killian answered. "Tink is much more dignified. But you haven't told me what it is I can do for you." He dug into his eyes with heel of his hand, alternating back and forth as she described her latest crisis over the ship he had procured for her. After letting her whine for a bit, he agreed to meet her along with another staff member to discuss a few modifications that could be made. He was just hanging up when he heard Emma winding down her own conversation.

"I don't know," she said with firmness that he wasn't used to hearing. It almost sounded cold until she repeated the statement with a slightly less intimidating structure. "I don't know. I thought that he was out of it."

She ignored his questioning look, glancing over toward the clock rather than at him. "I've not given it much thought, Graham," she said, giving Killian a clue as to who she was talking to at that moment. "I guess I could call my friend at the state." She drummed her finger on the back of the phone. "Seriously, this never occurred to you before?"

Killian was unable to discern the meaning of the conversation from just the context clues of Emma's portion of the dialogue. For a brief moment she looked apologetically at him until he mouthed a question to her. Her hand flew up in response to ask for a moment's reprieve.

"I'll talk to Mary Margaret. You keep thinking." She muttered a few more affirmative answers and said goodbye, dropping the phone onto the blanket and collapsed backwards in defeat.

"What on earth, love?" he asked, reaching out and smoothing her skin where worry was evident.

"Graham wants to throw the sheriff's race back to David," she said, bunching the blankets up under her arms. "He wants me to help."

***AAA***

Graham's suite at Granny's was barely bigger than Emma's bedroom, but he still managed to pace the length of it as Emma and Mary Margaret took up the two chairs by the windows. His face appeared almost ghostly white as the two women reviewed their options.

"So you want to announce you're dropping out and throwing your support to David?" Emma asked, her fingers on her temples as if she was warding off a headache. "What's to say that will work? David already quit."

"David's not going to let you do this," the brunette chimed in. "It's a pride thing for him."

The deputy's foot dragged on the carpet. "I get that, but he's the better candidate. His finding Emma proved that to me." He shook his head almost violently. "But you're both right. He's not going to let me just hand this to him."

"So what is your plan?" Emma prodded, stealing a glance at Mary Margaret. The teacher was on the verge of tears, which Emma hoped was a sign of her happiness over her fiancé and not some frustration that this might push back the wedding.

"We need to get some help on this," the teacher interrupted. "Maybe we could talk to some groups, civic clubs and things like that." She pursed her lips and looked up and to the right as she thought.

Emma shook her head no. "Too late for that. We're three days before the election. How are we going to get word out?"

Graham rocked back on his heels. "We could go on the radio. Talk to people gathering at Granny's? Church? Where are most of the people right now?"

The three started laying out their plans, making a few calls to Robin, John, Ruby, and even the mayor to see if they could stage this just right. Mary Margaret admitted that she was worried about David's reaction, but said she knew that it was all for the best since he did love his role as sheriff. She ducked out to take a call about the latest fitting for her altered wedding gown, promising to be back momentarily.

"You have said what you're planning," Emma said, the pads of her fingers tracing along the seams of the embroidered pillow on the chair. "What's next?"

Graham seemed a bit taken aback by her question, shifting on his seat on the bed. He was wildly flipping through the newspaper's calendar section, seeing what if any groups might meet on the weekend. She said his name twice before he looked up. "I'm afraid I don't have a plan. Maybe David might take mercy on me and keep me around. Or I could talk to one of your friends with the state police. I don't know, Emma, but I know I have to do this."

Emma nodded slowly. "You don't have to do it. David's basically handing you this race. You could be sheriff elect next week. Why do this? I mean I know you respect David, but to give up your dream…"

"My dream is to find my calling," the deputy interrupted. "It's never been about being sheriff. I…I don't have the heart for it. Not like David does. And the reason that David wants to drop out, to spite his father, well that's not right either. So I don't know what's next for me. We'll just figure it out. Somehow."

***AAA***

Tink's wool coat was cinched around her tiny waist and her hands lined with leather gloves that fit like a second skin. Her blonde curls bounced as she spoke to both Killian and Smee, her eyes dancing with delight over the news that the renovations to the ship were ahead of schedule.

"And I still can't convince you?" she asked Killian, touching his arm lightly as she did. Smee's eyes widened as the dark haired man yanked his appendage out of her reach. "You'd be the perfect captain. Your brother would be proud."

Killian drew in a breath like a hiss. "Low blow, Tink. Even for you."

She brushed it aside with the wave of a well-manicured hand. "Why is it that you think that I'm kidding about this? I'm serious. I need a captain and you have experience. I trust you. Completely."

Smee scratched at the facial hair he had been growing on his rounded face. "Ms…." He seemed unable to come up with her name. "We have a few options for captain and crew for you. Let's look at the criteria for this. Availability? Experience?"

The blonde scowled a bit, pulling out her phone and scrolling through some messages. "Killian knows what I am looking for with this. He's just too afraid." She silenced the dark haired man easily. "I don't know what's going on with you, Killian, but this is too good of an opportunity to miss. Bring Emily with you. It's not like I'm asking you to sleep in my bed."

"Emma," Killian said a bit more quietly, then shaking off his fog continued. "Her name is Emma and this is not about her. Not completely. Tink, I'm not interested in being on this mission with you. I'm trying to help you here."

"I don't accept defeat easily," she said with a wrinkle of her nose. "But if you say you're not interested, I guess I don't have a choice."

"We have plenty of choices," Killian answered, his tone leveling out. "Tink, it is obvious that Smee and I do care about this rescue. We are here to help you. Our being here on a Saturday is evidence of that."

There was nobody that could pout like Tink with her pink lips protruding her dark lashes casting shadows on her high cheeks. "Let's skip over the captain talk for now. I need a strategist. There are military installations, rebels, and terrain that we aren't used to getting through. This isn't a typical one for me. Who do you know who has some experience with that?"

The three began to bat names back and forth, each considering the other with some complaint or lack of confidence. Killian would suggest someone who Tink would reject as Smee made notes on a napkin that only he could read around the smudges. After a great deal of negotiating they had narrowed the list to three, who Killian offered to call and see their level of interest.

"We still work well together," Tink said with a sly smile that faded upon Killian's frown. "What? I'm not asking again. I'm just pointing out that we work well together. I know you're not happy selling boats for a living. Come on! Just consider it. Think how great it would be."

"I thought you were not asking again," Killian pointed out.

"I technically didn't." She let one of her shoes dangle off her toes as she crossed her legs in his direction. "Just tell me what it is you're afraid of, Killian. Because the you that I used to know wasn't scared. You were stubborn, fearless, and one of the best men for any job. You didn't care what we were up against. You fought for those kids. You were a hero. Now you're content to sit behind a desk and buy things? You are happy dating a woman and being at home with her ever night? Does she even know you? Does she know that you have been an adrenaline junkie who was someone to be admired? I doubt that she does. I don't know what it is you're trying to do, Killian, but this isn't you."

He practically growled at her words, pushing back from the table. "Smee, make sure that Ms. Green has her crew in place. You can bloody well keep the commission on it as well for all I care. I've already rejected your offer, Tink. There is no reason…"

She matched his movements, pushing back from the table and standing to face him. "I'm your friend, Killian. At least I used to be. I cared about you. I thought you were awesome. I thought that you could do anything. But I guess I was wrong about you."

***AAA***

Emma rolled her head from shoulder to shoulder, wondering just how she had gotten pulled into this mess. So far the message most people were interpreting was that there were two candidates for sheriff and neither wanted the job. She had already sent a ragged and frustrated Mary Margaret home, promising that she would follow suit very soon which she had. Feeling every bit as tired as the doctor had warned her, she half threw herself and half collapsed onto the bed in her apartment. Her head buried in the pillows, she stifled a laugh that even when they were rushing about that morning that Killian had found a moment to make the bed.

"OCD idiot," she muttered, wrapping her arms around one of the pillows.

It had not missed Emma's attention that Killian had been at her apartment since her release from the hospital. While she was physically fine – a miracle according to the doctors – he had declared himself as her nurse and practically moved into the small space. The closeness had worried her a bit, old habits dying hard. She worried that his being there so much might mean that she could not keep the charade of her life.

She wasn't hiding anything that horrible, but there were things. He might realize that she watched Food Network to fall asleep and yet never cooked a dang thing she learned from it. He might find out that when she wanted to shut out the world, she not only silenced her phone but hid it under a pillow because she thought it might taunt her if she saw it. Or he might see that she sometimes ate brownie batter without baking it. Her mind told her that he would not cease to love her because she liked those things. But that internal voice still gave her moments of doubt.

It was a Saturday, supposedly his day off. But he had rushed about with some talk about some sort of deal. She had not really paid attention, which in hindsight seemed rude. He was always paying attention to her, caring about her and loving her. Why couldn't she manage to do the same?

"Love?"

She heard him entering the apartment calling out to her softly, just in case she was asleep. She lifted her head slightly to respond and heard his quick and heavy footsteps headed to the bedroom. His smile was so familiar that the warmth of it pooled inside her as she realized that she had never seen him smile for anyone quite the same way. "You're back," she said as he joined her, toeing off his shoes and collapsing beside her.

"Aye, it's been a day," he said. "I couldn't stop thinking about being with you again."

"It's still afternoon," she reminded him as he propped himself up on one elbow and used his other hand to trace down her.

"It is that," he said, his fingers lifting her golden hair in tiny movements as though he might think she actually did have hair of gold. "Bloody waste of day without you, but I hope to remedy that."

Her eyes were a bit wide at his frustration. "You could just say you missed me."

"I missed you."

She smiled, swallowing back a yawn. "I love you," she said. While the words had been said, she was reluctant to say them too much. Still the even broader smile at her confession made her heart leap. "Want to tell me about your day?"

He sighed, his hand drifting to the valley between her breasts where he stroked under her sweater with a softness that made her want more. "Later," he muttered, leaning down and kissing the tip of her nose before joining his lips to hers for a brief and yet sweet kiss. "Right now I want to enjoy the woman I love."

Placing her palm at the small of his back, Emma rolled him easily toward her "If she's not available, I'll stand in for her," she teased.

"I think you'll do, love," he responded back.

Thoughts?