Fragile Design

by XerxesRises

David Nolan is out to protect his family, in any way that he can. He enlists the help of Emma Swan and Killian Jones to help uncover the crime boss currently living in his sleepy town of Storybrooke, ME. Two stubborn and damaged souls now have to come together as partners to solve a murder and maybe even save each other in the process. Fake marriage; modern AU.

27. Chapter 27

The first section of this chapter is Emma's memory of how it happened. Once you get past the italics, it's back to real time. Also, there is mention of Emma's prior miscarriage throughout the chapter - fair warning.

---

Emma Swan

January

The first few weeks after he left had been the hardest. In the past, she never would've allowed herself to process her emotions, especially when what she was feeling sucked.

And missing Killian Jones sucked.

She tried to do that this time, tried to ignore his absence and the heartache tied to it, but something fundamental had changed within her. It was as if the wall she'd built around her heart had started to crumble, leaving gapping holes in the brick and mortar through which her emotions trickle out. She frequently found herself sobbing into her onion rings at Granny's or over her morning coffee and bear claw. She couldn't sleep even though she was tired all the time, lying awake for hours in her empty bed, watching the shadows creep around the walls like depressive demons hunting her. Her moods were mercurial and finite, shifting from despair to raging anger and then back again, leaving her drained and wishing for the blissful numbness of her pre-Killian existence.

He'd made her start to feel and worse than that, he'd made her want to feel, and now...now she couldn't shut any of it off, no matter how hard she tried. When David pointed out that threatening to start calling Leroy "Stumpy" one memorable, sleep deprived afternoon was not the best approach to dealing with her grief, she'd ended up sobbing on his shoulder in the middle of the bullpen, acknowledging - if only to herself - that she might need help processing this.

The problem was that she'd never known how to ask for help, primarily because there'd been so few people to ask for it in the past. So, she tried to convince herself she was simply overreacting. After all, the man wasn't dead; he'd promised to come back to her as soon as he could. But, telling herself that and knowing it for sure after a lifetime of letdowns and betrayals were two very different things.

So there she sat, trying to process her emotions, knowing she needed help, but stuck in the asking of it, feeling like there was a hole in her chest. A hole where once her heart had been...a heart Killian Jones had stolen as effectively as any pirate of folklore, leaving her wallowing alone in darkness and despair.

January had lingered like that, the bleakness of the month and the winter season reflected in her demeanor. She worked and worked, taking overtime as a way to keep herself occupied. With the impending Nolan baby on the way, David had gladly taken her up on her offer to man the station. He did caution her against working herself to the bone, giving her a worried glance as he said it. Mary Margaret kept the station fridge stocked with microwavable meals she could heat up during her double-shifts, often stopping by for a chat on her way home from work and suggesting more than once that Emma stop by to see Dr. Hopper, to which Emma insisted that her work was more important.

"You know David would give you the time off to go...if you needed it, Emma," she'd admonished in her mother's voice, a frown marring her face as she'd watched Emma pick at her reheated casserole with listless dejection. She knew her friend was right, but her stubborn streak kicked in, her pride prickling at the idea of asking a perfect stranger for help.

In the end, it wasn't David or Mary Margaret's prodding that convinced her to go to Dr. Hopper, but Regina and Henry Mills. It was a bleak, gray January day, similar to all the others since Killian had left. She was at the station, staring unseeingly at her computer screen. The silence in the bullpen was heavy, making her feel as if she could suffocate under the weight of it when she heard the click-clack of high heeled shoes on linoleum and the pounding run of rubber soles in step with them. Henry Mills had barreled into the office, his hair flapping around his head and a grin spread over his lips. Regina had followed at a queenly pace, her hair perfectly coiffed and her clothes immaculate.

She stood to greet them, sending a tentative smile in Regina's direction before turning and giving a genuine one to Henry. He'd skipped up to her and returned her smile with his own, his brown eyes sparkling warmly up at her.

"Hi, Emma!"

"Hey, kid. Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"Dentist appointment." His grin had expanded, showing her a row of small, glittering white teeth, some of them pointing in odd directions. He'll need braces later, she thought with affection. "Mom said I can have lunch at Granny's for not having any cavities, but then I have to go to school." He'd leaned forward and added in a stage whisper, "I'm trying to convince her even a kid needs a day off once in a while."

Emma bit back a grin. Bending over slightly with her hands on her knees, she'd given Henry a stern look. "I'm not sure admitting to a deputy that you want to play hooky is a good idea, kid. School is important."

Henry had stared at her for a second, his mouth open in an adorable "oh," but when she'd given him a conspiratorial wink, he grinned again and rolled his eyes. He made his way to the box of donuts sitting on the communal coffee table, eyeing it wistfully until Regina told him not to ruin his appetite. He grumbled good-naturedly then plopped down on the sofa beside the table, one shoelace trailing on the linoleum while he swung his feet back and forth. For some reason, the sight of him there, so innocent and full of life, caused Emma's eyes to fill with tears. Scowling at herself and her unpredictable mood swings, she'd turned to Regina and quirked her head in question.

Emma hadn't seen her since Thanksgiving; she was as beautiful as ever, refined and cool as ice, not a smudge or crease on her person. It tired her out, thinking about the amount of time and effort the woman must put into her appearance. Emma glanced down at her own outfit, feeling self-conscious at the flyaway nature of her hair and the dusting of...something white on the knees of her faded jeans. Her sweater, a hand me down from Mary Margaret, was tight across her chest and she tugged at it as she attempted to look authoritative despite her pervasive desire to collapse into the fetal position and have a good cry. Shoving her hands into her back pockets, she shifted on her booted heels in a defensive posture as Regina gave her the once over.

"Madame Mayor," she said by way of greeting, her tone icy. It caught Regina's attention, that cool note, and something shifted in her gaze. With a tentative smile, she offered back, "Please, call me Regina."

Emma contemplated her for a tense moment then, seeing nothing nefarious in her smile, had given a brief nod. She offered her some coffee, mollified by the suggested warmth in the Mayor's voice, which she politely declined. "We can't stay long. I just wanted to stop by because I had a long talk with Sheriff Nolan yesterday. He filled me in on what has been happening over the past fews months. Well, as much as he could share considering it's an open FBI investigation now."

"Oh," Emma said, not really sure what else to add. She shuffled her feet, keeping her eyes on Regina's and watching as her cheeks colored pink with embarrassment.

"I had no idea Graham was..." She glanced at Henry then lowered her voice, stepping closer to prevent her son from hearing what she said next. "What you must think of me for taking up with someone so unstable..."

"I don't think anything," Emma replied, shocked that Regina Mills would even care what she thought. "Graham fooled a lot of people, Regina. Myself included. He was a madman. You can't beat yourself up over not being able to see through his lies." Emma bit her lip and then added, "I didn't see through him and I always see through a lie."

"Well, you shouldn't beat yourself up, either." Regina stated with conviction, straightening her spine and reaching up to smooth back a hair that hadn't moved an inch since she'd walked into the room. "And your husband? Is he doing better?"

"Yes, he's..." Emma paused, not sure exactly how much to share with the mayor about Killian's true identity. Regina seemed to have gotten the answer she wanted, though, because she hadn't waited for Emma to say anything further.

"And you? How are you faring, Emma?" The question had taken her off guard. This...stranger, really...was asking after her wellbeing and genuinely seemed to care about the answer. She had her usual flippant answer ready, but something in Regina's shrewd, appraising look told Emma that such a response wouldn't work with this woman. It would appear she wasn't the only one in this burgeoning friendship who understood the height of the other person's defensive walls.

Lifting her chin in stubborn resilience, she'd responded honestly with, "I've been better." She hadn't said more, leaving it short and simple, a bitterness in the response that was not directed at Regina, but at the universe in general. The mayor had given a brisk nod, opening her mouth to say something, but Henry beat her to it, calling out from his spot on the couch, "You should talk to Archie. He's the best. He helped me when I wanted to find my birth mom."

Emma shot Regina a surprised look, but the brunette simply raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, almost like a challenge. Turning to face Henry, she found him beaming up at her from the couch, the donut he had obviously snuck while she and his mom were chatting in hand. This little boy was more at ease with himself than Emma had ever been and it was obvious that to him, when you needed help, you went out and got it. No stigma, no judgement, just...help.

So, what was holding her back from doing the same?

Any lingering hesitation she had was eradicated when Regina leaned closer and added, "I trust Archie Hopper with Henry and there's few people in this world that I can say that about." It was the biggest seal of approval Emma could hope to have and after Regina and Henry had left for Granny's, Emma picked up the phone and made an appointment with Dr. Hopper for the next morning.

---

The bleak days without Killian extended into weeks. Emma filled her time with work, friends, and her bi-weekly meetings with Archie. The doctor was an affable man who never judged her frequent outbursts and tantrums. He allowed her to show him a side of herself she'd kept hidden most of her life, the side that was still a troubled kid with no one to trust and a massive chip on her shoulder. She pouted and rolled her eyes, kicked her booted heels into the carpet and fell dramatically on the couch when he asked her a question she really didn't want to answer.

He was patient and kind, an amazing listener, his gentle words and nudges helping her think through her emotions from start to finish. The process, saying aloud the thoughts she usually kept bottled up acted as a balm to her trouble soul. They talked over everything, from her time in foster care to the numerous times she'd run away to Neal and the loss of her baby to the days after that, when she'd found a purpose and began building her solitary life in Boston. She talked over meeting David and Mary Margaret all those years ago, explaining how she'd seen them as family, the first she'd ever had. She finally admitted to how abandoned she'd felt when they'd moved to Storybrooke, how she had reluctantly visited them one weekend...how she'd met Graham.

She talked a lot about Graham, needing to understand why she never saw through him, needing to process the guilt she felt about that now. Archie kept his observations to a minimum, simply let her talk about how she'd started to let her walls down and about how vulnerable and guilty it made her feel now to know it had been a mistake, that she was wrong to trust him.

Which led her to Killian Jones - her love, her lover, the man she ached to see again - and her fears about trusting him with her heart. She was honest from the beginning about their fake marriage, about meeting him at the cottage and the instant attraction they'd had, how he had scared her from the second his blue eyes had met hers. She admitted that their marriage was a lie, but that she wished it weren't, that she loved him and trusted him and that she missed him.

And she told him something else...a secret she'd been harboring for weeks...something she'd discovered days after Killian had left. She felt guilty for telling Archie first, but she needed a confidante right now, someone who would not judge her, someone who would keep the secret until she was ready to announce it...until it was safe to do so.

She was pregnant.

It had been something she'd started to suspect around Christmas, but it had seemed so impossible that initially she'd ignored the signs. Her breasts had been tender and she'd had heartburn for several nights in a row. She'd been so tired and her period was late. She'd thought little of it, attributing it all to stress, but then her breasts had started to swell, Killian's hands on them equal parts pleasure and pain. She'd made excuses, that her cycle was off and her body was slowly righting itself, but the heartburn became a daily occurrence and the tiredness was paired with mood swings and nausea.

Could she be?

The idea of it made excited butterflies flit through her belly, had her imagining that blond little boy she'd dreamed of all those months ago during their first days in Storybrooke. She'd wanted to tell Killian her suspicions, but before she had the chance, he'd left her beside the burned out ruins of their home, left those butterflies rotting in her stomach, their decaying wings burning the back of her throat like bile.

Days after he left, she forced herself to stop at the local drug store after work, tired and miserable, grabbing a home pregnancy test and using the self checkout to avoid having any nosy neighbors see her purchase the test. Not wanting to wait, convinced it would be negative, she'd taken the test within minutes of entering the house. She'd left it on the edge of the bathroom sink then marched into the bedroom to lay down and wait. Her mind was blank, her heart convinced it simply wouldn't be that easy for her to get pregnant, not with her history...except that in the days after their first time together, she'd missed more than one of her birth control pills while Killian clung to life in the hospital.

She'd forced herself to get up and check the test, stomping into the bathroom and looking down with annoyed resignation. That's when her entire world had stopped. Her mouth had fallen open, her brain trying to grapple with the two pink lines before her.

Not one. Two.

To be fair, the second line was faint, but it was there; there was no doubting its existence. Her hand had flown up to her mouth and she'd continued to stare, not believing, everything inside her denying the fact that life had found a way.

Grabbing the next test, she'd taken it, capping the little stick and setting it down beside the first before leaving the bathroom to pace around the bedroom. The three minutes had passed and she'd been unable to check the test. Sitting on the bed, feet planted on the floor and a hand still pressed to her mouth, she'd stared ahead and tried to comprehend the fact that she was pregnant.

Pregnant.

She was pregnant.

Her initially reaction, after the disbelief, was to call Killian and tears had filled her eyes, her racing heart careening to a halt against the cage of her ribs. He'd asked her once if she ever wanted to have a child after what had happened with her first pregnancy. She didn't have an answer then, but in this moment, in this wild, crazy moment, she knew she wanted this child with every fiber of her being. And she wanted its father with her every step of the way, but that particular miracle would have to wait.

She'd pushed herself to her feet and forced herself back into the bathroom, staring down once again at two pink lines that attested to a simple truth - one that was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. She'd made a doctor's appointment first thing the next day, wanting an official confirmation and referrals for an OB-GYN. The appointment was anti-climatic; she'd peed in a cup and ten minutes later the doctor was telling her congratulations and talking over what pre-natal vitamins to take and passing her a list of OB-GYNs. She'd been numb, smiling because she knew that was what the doctor expected, but feeling hollow inside without Killian beside her.

She'd gone to work after the appointment, stepping into David's office and asking if he had a way to get a hold of Killian. He'd answered in the negative, his brow furrowed as he'd watched tears fill her eyes. She'd fought them back, cursing her pregnancy hormones and her lover's noble heart that had taken him from her. She didn't begrudge him the decision he'd made to turn himself in, but she wished they'd had more time, more time to talk about the life she now carried within her.

Ultimately, she shared her news with Archie, knowing she needed to process this and that he was her best source of support since she wasn't willing to tell anyone else right now. He'd congratulated her, asking her how she was feeling and when she said she was tired and nauseous, he'd given her a smile and then gently asked, "No, how are you feeling, Emma?"

Tears had burned her eyes and she'd answered that she was terrified she was going to lose the baby or that it wasn't actually real and that something else was going on with her body despite the doctor's reassurances that she was, in fact, pregnant. Her nightmares had started again, stronger than ever, worse than they'd been in years. She woke up in cold sweats most nights, her heart racing so hard, she was afraid she was having a heart attack as she relived losing her first child over and over again.

And then there was the other fear, the one that whispered always in her ear that even if she carried the baby to term, she'd be incapable of being a mother to it, having never had one of her own to learn from.

"And I want Killian to come home," she'd confessed on a trembling sigh, sounding like a petulant child, those damnable tears back in her eyes once again.

"Oh, Emma, I'm sorry this is such a stressful time for you," Archie had said in that kind and compassionate way of his. He'd stood then, shuffling over to sit next to her, sunlight reflecting on his glasses and obscuring his eyes. "I know it's hard right now, but think about all the things that are different than the last time you were pregnant. You have David and Mary Margaret here and the countless other friends you've made over the past few months. You have access to good doctors who know your history and will be with you through the whole process. You have a stable job, a home. You're not locked up this time; you're free."

She'd sniffled, thinking all of that over. He was right. This time was different than the last; even through her despair, she could acknowledge that.

"I know it's hard to do this without Killian, but you have to have hope, Emma. You can't live your life expecting the worst thing imaginable to happen. If you do, you'll never truly live. And all these wonderful, happy moments will pass you by."

It was that wisdom that she carried with her to her first appointment at the doctor's office, where she spent an hour going over her medical history and being lectured on what to eat and what not to eat, being told to sleep and take her pre-natal vitamins, to exercise within moderation and to listen to her body. Given her history, they made sure to schedule more appointments than would normally be needed, including genetic testing and additional ultrasounds, telling her that although her previous miscarriage had not been due to an underlying medical issue, they still wanted to keep a close eye on her during the first trimester.

"These things happen sometimes," the nurse told her with a gentle, understanding smile and Emma had wanted to scream that it hadn't hurt any less because of that, that it didn't change the fact that she was scared out of her mind it would happen again.

She left the appointment overwhelmed, wishing she had someone to give her a hug and tell her it was going to be alright. She remembered Archie's advice, that despite her initial belief to the contrary, she was not alone; she only had to make the choice to be vulnerable and share her news. She made a mental note to call the Nolans and find a time to meet. It was early in the pregnancy still - she was only eight weeks along - and given her history, she probably shouldn't tell them yet, but keeping this to herself, trying to do it all alone when she didn't need to?

Emma was choosing to have faith, faith in her friends and their love for her, choosing love and support over desperation and sadness.

She was choosing to live in the moment instead of choosing to live in fear.

---

The Nolans, as she should've expected, were overjoyed by the news. Emma had called Mary Margaret asking for a lunch date, to which her friend excitedly asked her over for dinner at their new house instead. Eating in their kitchen with Leo in her lap, she'd told them, grimacing when her voice echoed strangely in the large space. Mary Margaret had been up and out of her chair in seconds, managing to hug both Emma and Leo exuberantly in one fell swoop, her own baby bump in the way. David had been more cautious, hunkering down before Emma and Leo, looking up into her eyes with brotherly concern.

"Feeling alright?" he'd asked and when she'd nodded, tears instantly filling her eyes at the compassion in his question, he'd stood and pulled her into his arms, his hand coming up to rest at the back of her head as he'd swayed both her and Leo back and forth. She'd sobbed unashamedly, getting snot on his blue plaid and not caring in the least. This had been what she'd needed for days now, strong arms around her and a comforting embrace letting her know it would be alright. It may not be the arms she was looking for, but it had still felt pretty perfect.

Mary Margaret had insisted on attending the first ultrasound with her, an offer which Emma gladly accepted. She'd been dreading going by herself, having to lay there and stare up at the television with no one to hold her hand. With her best friend by her side, it had been amazing to see her baby's heartbeat, a rapid fluttering on the screen that the technician told her was beating at a good, healthy clip. She'd confirmed Emma's due date based on her measurements of the fetus and suddenly, it had all felt a little more real, a little more true.

And the pain of missing Killian had overwhelmed her then, so much so she couldn't speak, could only nod numbly at the technician, taking the pictures of the ultrasound from her with shaking fingers. She didn't want to do this alone. Not again. What if something happened and she never had the chance to tell Killian he was going to be a dad before the baby was gone? How was she going to survive the next few months without him? But, as Mary Margaret helped her up and gave her a reassuring squeeze, she'd been able to stifle her tears. Staring down at the ultrasound photo, she accepted her friend's hand in her own, understanding that she wasn't doing this alone, not with such good friends at her side.

And someday Killian would return to her. He'd promised her that and if she knew nothing else about the man, she knew he always kept his promises.

---

February

It's February now, January having passed in four emotionally draining weeks. Her mild nausea is gone, but her occasional heartburn is still a daily nuisance as is the tenderness in her breasts. Her clothes are tighter around the middle, but not enough to warrant a clothing swap yet. She does invest in a few new bras, two sizes larger and that helps with the aching chest. She also purchases a treadmill, getting into the habit of a daily walk since she's too tired for much else.

She sleeps a fucking lot. Eight to nine hours a night and sometimes there's a nap mid-day on one of the station's jail cell cots. David teases her about her "delicate" condition to which she rolls her eyes and tells him to shut up. She goes to the Storybrooke bookstore, buying a few pregnancy books and one of baby names. The book of baby names she sets aside for now, but she devours the ones that give her a blow by blow of her pregnancy. The last time she was pregnant, it didn't last long into her first trimester. She barely had time to process what was happening, let alone read a book on the topic. This time around, though, she marks each week passed successfully with a smiley face on the wall calendar in the kitchen and a fist pump in the air, followed by an amazed touch to her belly. She buys a notebook and writes down every detail she can, from her changing body to her doctor's appointments with the vague idea that when she sees Killian again, she can hand him the notes and it'll be like he was there.

At night, when she's so tired she can barely keep her eyes open, she rests both hands over her stomach and imagines all sorts of things. She has no preference on boy or girl, simply yearning for healthy, but there are times as she floats in and out of consciousness that she imagines a little boy with blond hair and blue eyes giggling up at her. The little boy she dreamt of perhaps now a reality?

She tries to eat better, hearing Killian's voice in her ear reminding her that she needs to eat healthy for the baby. She cuts back on fried foods and coffee and drinks as much water as she can throughout the day. There's still the occasional donut, because come on, but mostly, she eats salads for lunch and cooks a healthy dinner every night.

She finds that it's hard to believe there's a baby growing inside her. She stares at the picture of the small blob they'd given her at the first ultrasound, the indistinct shape, the rounded head, the curve of its spine and her heart aches for Killian.

---

David orders her to take a trip. Tells her she needs a few days off and that it's not good for her or the baby to be pushing herself so hard. She has her feet propped up on her desk, a hot chocolate in one hand and a scowl on her face. She's tired today, not having slept much the night before. On top of that, her lunch had been lackluster, leaving her to pop a couple of Tums to relieve her heartburn.

She has been in a bad mood since Monday, having looked at the calendar and noticed that Valentine's Day was only a couple of days away. It's not as if Killian and she had had plans or anything like that, it's just that it would've been nice to have him around for the holiday. He would've done something sweet for her, like he did on Halloween. He was wonderful at helping her experience occasions that in the past had only been days on the calendar for her, never a cause for celebration. He'd helped her feel like a part of something, like she was valued and treasured and she knew that if he were here for Valentine's Day, he would have done the same thing.

It hurts to know she'll be alone. Again.

David leaves her to think over his offer, his arms folded over his chest in silent recrimination of her bad mood. Pushing aside her sadness, she takes a sip of her drink and settles her free hand absentmindedly over her belly, stroking through the layers of sweater and stretchy black pants, imaging the little bean growing there. In a few days, she'll have her next exam, this one more invasive than the last few. She's not really looking forward to it, but it's necessary and she knows it's important, given her history.

But before that, it might be nice to get away, to go off somewhere and forget that she's alone on Valentine's Day. She could take three days to herself, couldn't she? Lock the house up tight and drive out of town in the jeep to spend a few days...

Where?

Biting her lip in contemplation, an idea strikes and the more she thinks about it, the better it sounds. David is surprised when she appears in his office doorway and tells him she'd like to take the few days. She tells him she'll be out of town and unreachable. He, of course, doesn't like that, so on a huffing sigh, she gives him the address of where she'll be staying then returns to her desk and hot coco. She pulls up the inn's website on her computer, calling to make reservations for a long weekend with the idea of going back to where it all started for her and Killian.

If she can't be with him, she can at least surround herself with memories of him.

She goes home that night and packs, pulling out thick sweaters and pants that have give, throwing in her favorite pair of pajamas and woolen socks as well as a couple books she's been halfheartedly trying to read. She hesitates in front of the closet for a millisecond than grabs one of Killian's button downs from its hanger, pulling it up to her nose to see if there's still a hint of him around the collar. Before she can talk herself out of it, she packs it away then zips her suitcase closed and sets it by the bedroom door, ready to leave in the morning.

She sleeps in later than she'd intended, but she goes with it, intending to make the most of her time off. Throwing on a loose dress and thick woolen tights, she grabs a hat, scarf, gloves, and her suitcase, then leaves the house, her parting steps echoing across the wood floors. She'd asked Mary Margaret to stop by and feed Wendy this weekend; there's really nothing left for her to worry about. As she locks the front door behind her, she checks to make sure the porch light is on, something that will welcome her home when she returns in a few days.

The drive to the inn is uneventful and relaxing. She plays music the entire way, singing along at the top of her lungs to keep herself occupied. The sky is a bright, cerulean blue with big puffy white clouds scattered along the horizon. The tree branches are bare against all that blue and there's a fresh layer of snow on the ground, but the roads are clear and she makes great time, arriving early in the afternoon.

The inn is exactly as she remembers it, only now there's snow covering everything. It looks like an empty dollhouse, abandoned to the weather. Christmas lights are still hung around the property from the holiday season, little white lights that twinkle like pixie dust in the afternoon sun. Grabbing her bag from the trunk, she makes her way inside, smiling to see the same desk clerk at the counter that had worked there in the fall. The woman remembers Emma, giving her a bright smile and calling her Mrs. Jones - she'd been a guest at their fake wedding reception, Emma recalls as she gives her a smile of her own.

She checks in then makes her way up the grand staircase, remembering descending it in her wedding dress with Killian beaming up at her. Her hand trails along the wooden railing, the bellboy carrying her suitcase for her as she slows her steps and remembers how lovely that day had been. It wasn't a real wedding, but it had felt that way. All of it, from her dress to her flowers to standing before Killian and pretending to say their vows to the kiss he'd left on her lips.

Realizing that the bellboy is waiting for her at the top of the stairs, she moves forward again, letting him lead her to her room. It's the same one she'd stayed in last time, the one with the sitting room and the large bed and the patio right outside the sliding glass doors. She peers outside to find the patio swept clear of snow and before the bellboy leaves her, he tells her they can light the portable lanterns later, so she can sit outside and enjoy the stars in the warmth.

She unpacks and decides to take a nap, the long drive having sapped her strength. The bed is as comfortable as she remembers and she sleeps for hours, waking to find the sun has started to set, her room hazy with impending night. She's starving and while ordering room service is appealing, she decides to get up and go downstairs, determined not to spend the evening hiding out in her room like a recluse. Grabbing a book to read, she doesn't bother straightening her clothes or hair, shoving her feet in a pair of sneakers and exiting the room, her mind focused on dinner.

She orders a healthy meal, complete with a salad and a glass of milk. The food arrives quickly and she opens her book beside her plate, getting lost in a fictional tale about pirates and princesses and a land far, far away. Eating slowly, taking her time savoring the quiet and the story, she loses track of the world around her, the clatter of plates and dishes and the low murmur of the few patrons around her lost to the engaging tale. Finishing her meal, she continues reading, her head bent over the book. There's a mug of hot chocolate, whipped cream and cinnamon on the table, a decadent treat she sips between turning pages and resting her hand lovingly over the small swell of her belly.

"No tequila tonight, love?"

The voice, spoken just over her left shoulder is teasing and low, spoken loud enough for only her to hear. There's eagerness in the teasing, a trembling uncertainty that causes her hand to shake as she sets down her mug, the cup clattering against the saucer. She doesn't move any further, simply sits there and stares at the words in front of her, hope unfurling in her chest and warming her from the inside out.

There's one word she reads over and over as she waits...pirate. And then...

"Swan?"

She turns in her seat, eyes finding Killian, his name a disbelieving whisper on her lips. He's really there, wearing a black leather jacket and a bright blue scarf, his hair cut shorter than she's ever seen it. His eyes - oh god his eyes - are more vibrant than she'd remembered, the few pictures she has on her phone not doing them justice. The stubble on his jaw is carefully groomed and dark, the normally red highlights not visible in the restaurant's lighting. He looks well rested and a million times better than he had when he'd left her. There's no longer a defeated air about him, no longer desperation in the lines of his face, no longer a sense of regret in the way he looks at her.

She's up and out of her chair in the next second, propelling herself into his arms with barely a thought, needing his mouth on hers. He takes a step or two in her direction, his arms coming up to catch her, lifting her up so that her toes leave the ground as their mouths collide. The impact of chest to chest nearly knocks the breath out of her, but she doesn't care. The noises of the other diners around them pause and when she pulls away to look into his eyes again, there's a smattering of applause, like something out of a movie.

He sets her back on her feet and with weeping eyes, she grips the lapel of his natty jacket in one hand and holds her fingers to her lips with the other, wondering at the way her mouth tingles and the blood rushes in her ears.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, speaking through her fingers. He doesn't answer right away, his attention caught by the twinkling of the diamond on her finger.

"You didn't take them off," he whispers instead of answering her. Taking her hand in his, he stares down at the rings, pressing his thumb against them to reposition them. Then he dips his head, bestowing one of the sweetest, gentlest kisses to her knuckles that she's ever received before repeating the process over the ruby ring on her right hand.

"No. I didn't take them off."

"Neither did I," he whispers as he cups the back of her head and pulls her in for another kiss.

---

She takes him to her room not long after that, words seemingly too much for them as they stumble up the staircase and down the hallway together. Hands clasped, she stops now and then to kiss him, tasting mint on his tongue and feeling the fine quality of his coat under her fingertips each time she grips his lapels to bring him closer. There's a lot of growling and naughty murmuring in her ear during all this and by the time she opens the door and he follows her through it, there's a wonderful ache between her thighs.

He lunges for her as soon as the door closes, his arms wrapping around her as he presses her back against the door. With his leg between her thighs, he holds her in place, her mouth slightly above his as he stares up at her in wonder. He smells like soap and winter air, his skin warm against hers. His mouth is swollen and red, kiss loved and she can't help reaching up to trace his lower lip with her thumb. There's a beat, a breath passed between them and then she's dipping her head to his, her lips replacing her thumb. It's a contradiction, this kiss, the meeting of their mouths slow and sweet despite how violently their desire beats within them.

She still has no idea how he's here, why he's here, but it doesn't matter now. Only his mouth on hers, his tongue stroking hers as she undulates slowly over his thigh matters. It's been weeks of missing him, of wanting to hold him and touch him and as she kisses him now, she wonders at how she ever survived that long without feeling his heart race under her palm like this.

"I need you," he murmurs when he moves his mouth to kiss along her jaw. She nods, not able to speak her agreement. He deposits her back on her feet, both of their hands reaching for his belt buckle. He gets there first and she moves to his coat and scarf instead, letting both items fall to the floor as he pushes his jeans down his thighs enough to release his erection. She shoves her tights and panties out of the way, exposing one leg as he lifts her back up against the door.

He's at her entrance in a second and there's no preamble, no testing of the waters, only a thrust that meets her lowering body halfway. He quiets the moan that slips from her mouth with his hand, reminding her to be quiet as he begins to fuck her against the door. For as frantic as they were on their way upstairs, he takes her slowly and gently now, each thrust pressing her hips back and then causing her to sway with him when he slowly pulls out.

His hand falls away when her head drops to his shoulder. She squeezes her eyes shut tight, relishing the feel of him hard inside her, his cock brushing over a particularly sensitive spot that takes her to the edge within minutes. He doesn't last, emptying himself inside her with a trembling gasp. He breathes there for a moment then he's gripping her tightly in his arms and carrying her into the bedroom, walking carefully so he doesn't trip over his jeans. He slips from her when he lays her back on the mattress. Standing above her with her essence glistening on his still erect cock, he looks down at the way she's spread before him, vulnerable and open.

The hunger in his gaze nearly burns her.

"I've missed you so bloody much," he murmurs, his eyes finding hers.

Then he's kneeling, pressing her legs open wide as he pulls her to the edge of the bed, his mouth on her before she can even think about what he's doing. He tongues her flesh, moaning to taste the mixture of them, those blue eyes of his staring up at her as she watches him swipe his tongue through her sex. He knows her body so well, so unbelievable well, that it only takes one or two well placed kisses, tongue on clit and thumb dancing at her entrance to take her to oblivion. She comes with a hearty groan, head thrown back, her fingers lost in the short strands of his hair and holding him in place as she rides his tongue. It's a sensual moment, one of deep emotion and a near blinding agony as her orgasm rips through her.

He's up and over her quickly, pumping his hand on his softening member to awaken it once more before he's sliding inside her welcoming body, groaning as she accepts him.

"Emma. Emma. Emma," he chants with each thrust, taking her non too gently. For a moment she worries about the baby, but she remembers that he can't hurt either it or her and then she gives herself over to the pleasure, her thoughts focused solely on the man above her, their hips joined intimately.

Reaching up, she grips his biceps, loving the way the muscles in his arms bulge as he holds himself aloft. His gaze darts from her face to her breasts down to where they're joined. He can't seem to stay focused and then he's pulling out, prompting her up onto her hands and knees. She pauses for a second, knowing she doesn't usually get off this way, but then again, she's never been in this position with a man Killian's size before and then she's up and moving, wanting to experience his cock plunging into her from behind.

She rips her dress off, leaving her bra on. Her breasts are tender and she knows it would hurt to have them dangling free while he takes her. Killian doesn't seem to mind, helping her remove her leggings and panties completely before divesting himself of his clothes. With their bodies finally bare, they each move to the center of the bed, Emma with her ass in the air and Killian with his hands on her hips. She presses her forearms into the mattress and gives a long, sumptuous moan as he presses back inside her, stretching her delightfully. The angle is amazing and her mind goes hazy, enjoying each sway of his hips. When she looks over her shoulder, she finds him staring down at where they're joined, his focus finally trained on one thing and one thing only. With his eyes a brilliant blue and his cheeks flushed, he's beautiful, the tensed lines of his shoulders and neck a sight to behold. Dropping her head down by her arms, she reaches back with one hand and pleasures herself, earning a groan of appreciation from her lover.

When he brings his thumb up to press lightly over her puckered asshole, she gasps, not expecting the touch and finding it pleasurable. He doesn't push inside, which she doesn't think she wants, but he massages her in time with his thrusts and with her own fingers between her legs, it's wonderfully arousing. Nerve endings firing, she closes her eyes and enjoys every sensation, feeling as if her body is pulled taut, ready to fall into oblivion with the merest flick of a finger or the thrust of a cock.

"Can you come again?" he asks her, panting harshly. When she moans and nods, he curses, reaching down to pull her upright, their bodies aligned perfectly, her back to his chest. With her legs spread to accommodate him, she reaches back to grip his hair, holding him close. With his mouth at her ear, he nips her earlobe and repeats, "I've missed you so bloody much, Emma."

She turns her head enough to fuse their mouths, their tongues mimicking the movement of their lower bodies. Killian wraps one arm around her, forearm resting between her tender breasts, his free hand slipping down over the rounded curve of her belly to the apex of her thighs. Pressing between her folds, he finds her clit with unerring accuracy and Emma loses herself, sobbing into his kiss. It's a tricky position, requiring balance and coordination, but it feels amazing, his hand and cock playing her like a virtuoso. It's not long before she's shaking in his arms and he's whispering words of encouragement against her lips as she comes.

"There's my lovely lass," he tells her, holding her close as he removes his hand from her clit and simply pumps his hips, enjoying the feel of her trembling around him. "God, you feel amazing when you come apart. Better than I remembered. So wet and warm, taking me so deep. Absolute perfection, my love."

As her orgasm peters out, he releases her, prompting her down onto her arms once again. She can barely keep herself up, her body sated and relaxed. With her head pressed to the bed, she angles herself the best she can for him, feeling his strong hands on her hips, holding her steady.

"I love watching you take me like this. So sexy," he murmurs, his thrusts deep, his thumb once against stroking her bared hole. He stops talking then and simply fucks her, his body moving into hers over and over again until he goes rigid and cries out, no longer bothering to keep quiet. It lasts for several long seconds; she can feel his cock throbbing inside her with his pulsing release then he's pulling out and dropping to his side next to her. She eases herself down to her belly, loving the way his hand rests in the small of her back, a reassuring weight as they float in a post-orgasmic haze.

When she rolls her head to look at him, she finds him staring at her, tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes. She doesn't say a word, simply moves to him and wraps herself up in his embrace, her head nestled under his jaw. With a hand over his still racing heart, she closes her eyes and lets the feel of his warm and solid frame fill her with happiness. She hums in contentment, silence falling thick and heavy over them, pulling her down as her lover holds her close.

She wakes slowly, the room now dark around her. She'd moved at some point and is now on her back, both her hands pressed possessively to her belly. She does that a lot now, she's noticed, absentminded touches and protective palming over the place where their babe resides. Smiling to herself, she rolls her head, finding Killian asleep on his side, facing her, each deep breath causing his shoulder to rise and fall in a gentle rhythm. She can barely make out the tumbled mess of his hair and the line of his jaw in the dark. She can see enough, though, to have her smile widen in giddy happiness and she rolls onto her side as well, cupping her hands under her cheek to watch him sleep.

When she wakes again, the room is brighter and she has a blanket pulled up to her chin. The shower is running in the next room and she grins, nearly jumping from the bed to race to the half opened bathroom door. Giving a tentative knock, she steps into the steamy room when he acknowledges her then she's shedding the bra she still wears, wincing at the way her breasts ache. Dropping the garment to the floor, she steps into the shower to find a gloriously nude Killian Jones waiting for her.

It's not long before they're adding to the steam in the room, their touches and kisses slow and languid, making use of the wet heat to entice each other. They do manage to clean up in between the teasing and tasting only to need a second shower after Killian takes her on top of the bathroom counter, his seed sliding down her inner thigh in a most delicious way after it's over.

They order room service and find clothes, Killian throwing on his from the previous day in order to retrieve his bag from his car, pressing cold fingers into her side on his way back inside the room. Emma pulls on a baggy sweater that falls past her hips, tights and a pair of boots. Their food arrives and Killian offers to light the heaters on the patio so they can eat outside. While he preps the space, Emma sits on the bed, braiding her hair and watching him work, loving the ease with which he does even the simplest tasks, his body fluid and lithe.

He calls her to the table and she steps out onto the patio, smiling when he pulls out a chair for her and bows over it. Shaking her head, she sits, commenting that the heaters warm the space surprisingly well, her coat and gloves not even needed despite the fact that it's barely forty out. The sun is newly risen, causing the snow to sparkle with diamonds under the bright blue sky. It's lovely and she can't wipe the smile off her face, staring at Killian and marveling at how his eyes rival the sky. His lips curve up in a smile, his dimples dancing as they clink their orange juice glasses together in a toast.

As happy as she is, she's still curious to know how he's here. She bides her time, eating and answering his questions about the house and her job and how the Nolans are faring. And when he asks her how she's been these past few weeks, the hand she has balled up in her lap jerks against her belly, a motion he doesn't see, but which causes her to flush and look down at her plate.

"Not good," is all she says, wondering if he can sense that she's holding something back from him. There's a pause and when she looks back up, he gives her an encouraging smile and a nod, a gesture she's missed so damn much that it brings tears to her eyes. "I've missed you," is all she can manage to choke out, but that seems to be enough.

"Aye, lass, and I've missed you." He reaches for her hand, the one she has resting on the table, gripping it in his own. "Every day without you was torture. I kept taking out the compass you gave me, imagining it was pointing me back to you."

"Where were you?" He sighs, squeezing her hand before letting go and relaxing back in his chair.

"A federal facility in Maine. I wasn't under arrest, not exactly, anyways. I suppose if I had tried to leave, they would've formally charged me, but since I was there voluntarily, I wasn't treated like a criminal."

"How did you...did they let you go?" He nods, giving a shrug. "Like I said, I wasn't really under arrest. My lawyer was always with me and I gave evidence, what evidence I could. They're building a case against Gold. He's a big deal, Emma, an international criminal that they've been chasing far longer than I've been a pirate."

"They didn't want to come after you? Arrest you as well?"

"They'd definitely heard of Captain Hook. I've made a name for myself over the years, that's for sure, but David gave evidence on my behalf, talked with their lawyers about what I'd done in Storybrooke, how I used my connections to bring down Graham and Gold to save the town." He shrugs again, rolling his eyes in embarrassment, a gesture she finds adorable. "Basically, between David and my lawyer working with the federal lawyers, I managed to avoid jail time. My testimony against Gold will put him away for an extremely long time. There are several countries happy he won't see the light of day."

"Is it really that simple?" The thought that Killian would be around to watch their child grow hasn't been something she's allowed herself to imagine, but with him across from her now, she can't hold back the hope that they can be a family.

A real family of her own.

"I don't know about simple, love." He squints over at her, tilting his head slightly as he surveys her. "I do know we can have that conversation now about what we want for our future. The one we've been avoiding since Graham." The sound of his name causes Emma to shiver and Killian leans forward, grasping her hand once again in his own. "Cold?"

"A little," she replies. They decide to head back inside, bringing their half empty glasses with them. They arrange themselves on the bed to keep talking, Killian leaning against the headboard with Emma sitting crossed legged at his knees, her fingers tracing lines into his jeans, needing to touching him - convince herself he's real.

"So, our future..." she starts, raising an eyebrow and glancing at him. He's watching her, blue eyes locked to her face, reading her as ever. She smiles shyly, not wanting him to think she doesn't want to have this conversation, but it's a doozy. She also needs to tell him about the baby and that thought has her heart lodging itself in her throat while her stomach drops to her knees.

"Aye, love, our future..." He smiles then reaches for her hand, grasping it and turning it over to look down at the wedding rings she still wears. "Can I assume that since you didn't take them off folks still think we're married?"

She nods as she stares down at her hand in his. "They all think you're visiting your brother in England."

"Ah." Flicking her eyes up to his face, she feels the heat of his gaze. She links their fingers, taking a deep breath to get out the words she's been holding back since yesterday. If truth be told, she's been thinking them for a long while, perhaps even back to the last time they were at this inn together.

"I want a future with you, Killian. I do. I want you with me every day. I don't want to pretend anymore. Actually, I don't think I've been pretending for a while now."

"So, move to Storybrooke and build a life together there?"

"It doesn't have to be Storybrooke, although I do have that big, beautiful house now." She smiles and continues. "But we could go to New York or Boston or London...wherever we want as long as it's together."

"Truly, love?" Killian seems awestruck and she smiles at him, readjusting her position so that she's kneeling before him. Cupping his jaw, she nods then leans in to give him a kiss, a gentle, loving one that relays her emotions and the truth of her statement. Killian hums into it, returning it with fervor. He wraps his arms around her and tugs her into his lap where they continue to kiss, stroking gently over clothes with caresses meant to soothe and not entice.

"I love you," she murmurs against his mouth and he repeats the words back, his voice gruff, his accent thick with emotion. Pressing their foreheads together, they hold each other and enjoy the decision they've made.

"It's just you and me, Swan," he tells her and she nods, the lump in her throat preventing her from contradicting him and telling him that now they are three. With her in his lap, his hands resting on her upper thighs, he pulls back and looks into her face. "When I left, I tried to ask you a question."

"I remember," she replies, flushing to think of it now. "You told me to ask you again when I came back to you."

"I did." She sits up a little straighter, jiggling in his lap and he groans. "Careful, woman." She giggles, holding herself still. Killian reaches for her hand, the one on which she wears her wedding rings and holds it between them. Staring down at the diamond engagement ring he'd given her all those months ago, he slides it to the very center of her finger. Then, looking into her eyes, he asks in a clear, determined voice, "Emma Swan, will you marry me? For real this time?"

She doesn't respond right away, letting the moment fill her up with joy and excitement as such a moment should. Then she gasps his face in her hands, fingertips resting on the back of his neck. Leaning forward, she answers his question with a kiss, her "yes" whispered against his lips.

It feels as if every moment between them has led to this moment of pure happiness. Their kiss moves from gentle and loving to something more eager and desperate and it's not long before they're bare before each other once again, their bodies moving to display what their hearts have known since the moment they met. He slides into her, making each movement languid and deep, every caress containing all the love and desire they hold between them.

She loses track of time as they touch and join; it could be hours or minutes or mere seconds. All she knows is that she's happy and he's here, his whispered words of commitment and love taking her higher and higher until she fears she'll be burned by the sun before she shatters and falls slowly back to earth. They sleep afterwards, wrapped around each other, his lips pressed to the back of her neck and his arm wrapped around her, his hand unknowingly resting on the product of their love and a future as tangible as the rings on their fingers.

---

They force themselves to dress and go to dinner in the restaurant, talking over their plans for the future. It's so easy now that they've started, Killian talking about making a trip to New York to pack up his apartment and then maybe a quick trip to Boston, so Emma can retrieve a few things that she'd like to keep. There's not much, her prize possessions having been lost to the fire - that little cigar box she'd carried with her most of her life, burning like so much tinder. It bothers her less than she thought it would, knowing the memories she carries with her now mean so much more than the few trinkets she'd stolen or been given as an unhappy child.

As they linger over dinner, Emma turning down the glass of wine Killian offers her, she grows quiet. Her hands twist in her lap, over and over. She needs to tell him about the baby. There's no reason to continue to keep it from him. He's great with kids; she loves watching him with Leo and Henry, but they've never talked about having kids of their own. As far as he knows, she's still struggling with the idea of having them at all.

He senses something is bothering her, pausing mid-sentence and giving her a concerned look.

"Love? You okay?"

"Yeah. I just...have something to tell you and I don't...I'm not sure how to say it."

"You're not having second thoughts about the engagement, are you?" She looks into his wide blue eyes, his mouth pulled down in a frown and she curses internally, seeing fear written all over him.

"No! No, of course not." Reaching for his hand, she reassures him best she can, her stomach in knots. She hasn't been feeling sick to her stomach as much lately, but this moment isn't helping and she grimaces when the waiter stops by to ask if they'd like to see the dessert menu.

"I think we're fine, mate, thank you." Killian barely spares the man a glance, his eyes glued to Emma's face in trepidation. She takes a deep breath, blowing it out in a slow puff of air. Looking into Killian's beloved face, she grabs hold of her courage and utters the words that will forever change their lives.

"You're going to be a dad."

There's an understandable pause and then he leans forward in his chair, his eyes sliding up from her mouth to her eyes. The knots in her stomach tighten and her heart is suddenly racing as hard as it had the day she saw those two little pink lines on the pregnancy test. Remembering what she'd tucked into her pant's pocket before dinner, she reaches back and slips the flimsy photo paper out, smoothing the edges as she slides it closer to him. The technician who had done the ultrasound had typed "BABY!" in large, white letters across the top. Killian looks down, his eyes widening as he reads the word, his gaze moving to the alien looking bean in the very middle of the glossy paper.

"That's the head," Emma says, pointing helpfully to one end of the mass, "and that's the tush."

"This is..." he starts to say. Emma's heart starts to pound even harder and then Killian reaches for the picture, lifting it to stare at the paper in awe. "This is really cool."

"You...you think so?" she asks, her own fears making themselves known in the vulnerable question. Killian looks up immediately and then he stands, his hands on hers as he pulls her up into a tight hug. His mouth settles over her ear as he replies, "Yes, love. I really think this is cool."

She gulps back a sob of thankfulness, burying her face into his shoulder. They sway for a second more in each other's arms then Killian is pressing her back into her seat, his eyes on her face as he asks for all the details, his first question being about her health. They lose track of time, Emma relaying every moment of the past few weeks to him, not leaving out a single detail. She tells him all about the doctor's visits and the next one coming up, which he immediately adds to the calendar on his phone. He's very concerned about what the doctor had to say given her previous miscarriage and she reassures him the best she can. He keeps his hand in hers the entire time and every once in a while, squeezes it and gives her an excited grin.

It's a side of him she's never seen before and one she couldn't have predicted. He's like a little boy, nearly bouncing in his seat. She finds herself falling even more in love with him, wondering how such a thing is possible given the strength of her feelings already. Within a few minutes of him learning he's to be a father, he completely wipes away any fear she'd had about him not wanting this challenge right now. On the contrary, he seems even more excited than she is, her own reluctance given her miscarriage not allowing her to fully embrace this pregnancy yet.

He soothes even that fear later that night as he holds her in his arms, their bodies entwined, his hand moving in an intricate pattern along her spine.

"Things are so different now, love. You have all the medical care you could possibly need, the stress you were under then is nowhere to be found, and you have me, beside you through all of it, supporting you and making sure you eat right." She snorts at that last statement. It didn't take him long to make a point of her poor eating habits.

"I've been eating healthy, Killian, and making dinner every night."

"Have you now?"

"Oh ye of little faith," she mutters under her breath. He hears her, chuckling then pulling her closer to press a kiss to the top of her head. Louder, she says, "There's someone else relying on me now. No more pizza every night for dinner."

They fall silent, their hands smoothing over patches of skin, their mouths sometimes following these gentle touches until neither of them can deny their desire any longer. Emma marvels at her attraction to this man, that even as tired as she is, she still wants him. He asks her if it's okay, if this is what she wants, and she smiles, his worrying adorable.

"Sex is fine. Maybe not too vigorous, but the baby is only about the size of an apple right now. You can't do it any harm." He grins at that, pulling back to rest his large palm over her belly. The bump there is small and most of the time, she could attribute it to a large dinner or not enough sit-ups. Killian shushes her when she tries to explain that to him then he's leaning over to press a kiss to the place where their child resides.

"Hello there. I'm your father."

"Killian," she sighs, rolling her eyes at him, smiling as she cups his jaw.

"That other person you hear is your mother and she's about to get even louder. I apologize in advance for any cursing you're about to hear. And I apologize in advance for all the wonderfully naughty things I'm about to do her, but you see, little love, your mother is completely insatiable and the most alluring woman I've ever met and so, I can do nothing but succumb to her charms and completely debauch her." He places another kiss to her belly then glances up at her, wiggling his eyebrows as he slides lower between her legs.

Shouldering her thighs apart, he takes up residence before her sex, not wasting any time dipping his mouth to her body. They both moan at the first glide of his tongue between her folds, Killian's eyes slipping shut as he savors her. Emma cards her hands through his dark locks, threading her fingers through the strands and holding on for dear life as he shifts her hips and raises one leg up over his shoulder. He moans again then settles in, licking and teasing her sensitive nub until her entire body is tensing with pleasure. When she comes, she cries out his name, tugging on his hair until he moves up and over her.

"Nice and easy, eh, Swan?" he whispers, sounding breathless. She nods, eyes on his face to watch him as he glides home with a gentle thrust. "Bloody hell, woman, you feel divine." Holding still, he catches his breath then does as she bids, slowly riding her. Soon enough, her sated desire rises once again, each languid thrust calling her forth to meet him halfway. She can feel how unbelievably wet she is and it turns her on even more. The room is quiet, shadows playing across their bodies as they move together, Emma naming this moment perfection as her heart races in her chest.

As good as it feels, when Killian shifts the angle of his thrusts slightly, the pleasure intensifies, his cock sliding over a particularly sensitive spot deep within her body. She gasps and he looks up to peer intently at her, cataloging the expression on her face. "Good?"

"Yeah - fuck - right there." He pulls back slowly then pushes forward again at the same angle and she groans, legs starting to quiver on either side of him. "Right there. Oh, oh god, Killian, I'm gonna come."

"Aye?" She moans, nodding sluggishly and he makes the same movement again, eyes intent on her face.

It only take a few more of those long, languid brushes of his body into hers and she cries out her release, the pleasure bursting white hot through her veins. She swears in the middle of it, barely conscious as the curse leaves her lips. Killian groans, meeting each rhythmic rise of her hips with a perfect downward thrust of his own. It only takes a couple pumps and he's coming, too, groaning as her body accepts his seed. When it's over, he falls into her, his body heavy. She clings to him, pressing kisses to his sweaty temple and running her hands up and down his back, from the top of his spine to his perfect ass, both of them trembling in the afterglow.

"I love you," he whispers against her, the words finding their way through the haze of Emma's pleasure. She sighs and wraps her arms tighter around him.

"And I love you."

---

"Marry me," he says, holding Emma close to his heart. She tilts her head up, able to make out his profile in the dim room. Half asleep and wishing she'd eaten more at dinner, she's not entirely sure she'd heard him right.

"Hmm?"

"Marry me." He repeats, his voice low and pleading.

"Killian, I already said yes."

"No. I mean...marry me now. On Valentine's Day."

"You mean the Valentine's Day in one day, Valentine's Day?"

"Aye."

"Killian, what are you..." She pauses, pulling back more. She's able to make out enough of his face to know he's serious. The idea doesn't scare her; in fact, she'd happily marry him in a day's time. They've been living as man and wife for months now and she's never been more excited about her future than she is right now. She's not sure why the sudden rush, unless he doesn't want his child born out of wedlock, but such an old fashioned idea doesn't fit with the progressive lover she's come to know.

"We can call David and Mary Margaret, see if they can come out to be our witnesses and I'm sure I can get someone to perform the ceremony. Maybe we can ask the same photographer we used for the photos last September. We can get married here. What do you say?"

"Why the rush?" she asks, sitting up beside him. Wrapping the sheet around herself, she stares at him, reaching for his hand to make sure he knows she's simply curious and not saying no. She's actually pretty excited about marrying him here, where it all began, but she wants to understand his need for urgency, so she waits for him to explain before properly responding. With a flashing grin that she catches even in the dark, he answers, nearly making her melt with his romantic response.

"You're the person I want to share my every day with, the person I want a future with, the one I want to build a marriage with and that's not going to change if we wait six months from now or a year to say our vows. The day you put that ring on your finger, my fate was sealed. My heart is yours, love, and no amount of waiting is going to change that. Becoming your husband would be the proudest moment of my life and I want the world to you know I'm yours. Until we're old and gray."

She gives him a watery smile and leans down, hand pressed to his chest, leaving a sweet, tender kiss on his mouth. "Our next adventure," she says on a sigh to which he grins and wraps his arms about her, pulling her down into a much dirtier, possessive kiss, neither of them able to resist the allure of the other.

---

She wakes up the day of their wedding feeling completely different than she did the last time they did this. He's asleep beside her, the gentle rise and fall of the sheet over his torso letting her know he's still peacefully dreaming. Giving him a soft smile, she presses a hand over her belly, glancing at him once more before exiting the bed on quiet feet.

She showers and pulls on comfy clothes, grabbing her phone from the nightstand to text Mary Margaret. The woman is a wonder, having squealed with excitement when she and Killian had called to ask for the Nolan's help then immediately jumped into planning mode. Emma and Killian had taken care of obtaining the marriage license while Mary Margaret had taken over the rest of the planning. All Emma knows about the wedding is what time she needs to show up for the ceremony...and what to wear, of course.

Text sent, Emma orders breakfast - if she doesn't eat first thing, she'll be nauseous within minutes of waking - then uses the room's coffee pot to make a single cup for herself. The sound of her rummaging around at the small counter wakes Killian and within seconds, he's up and giving her a scandalous kiss.

"Well, good morning to you," she says, giggling as he pulls away with a mischievous smirk. Giving her a soft, possessive pat on the rump, he turns to the bathroom. It's not long before the water is running in the shower, his voice spilling out into the room as he sings along to the radio.

The lyrics of the song give her pause, their meaning hitting her especially hard today...

"I knew I loved you then
But you'd never know
'Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go

I know I needed you
But I never showed
But I wanna stay with you until we're gray and old
Just say you won't let go
Just say you won't let go"

She blinks the tears in her eyes away and takes a deep breath, marveling once again at how different she feels today than the day they'd staged their wedding pictures. There are no worries, no trepidations, only excitement to be taking this next step with Killian. She wonders if under different circumstances, she'd be petrified, but seeing as she already knows what she's in for when it comes to being married to Killian Jones, she's blissfully calm. There's not an ounce of fear within her; only a readiness to start her life with him and set aside the pain of their separate pasts.

"You, my dear, are beaming," Killian says from behind her. She realizes she's been daydreaming in front of her coffee cup since he'd entered the bathroom. Throwing a smile over her shoulder, she says softly, "I'm just...happy."

He shuffles over to her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "Aye, love, me too," he whispers in her ear. "I'll admit, this isn't exactly what I had planned for our future...not right away at least, but I've never been so completely and utterly happy." There's a pause and then, "Are you supposed be drinking coffee?"

"A cup is fine. I asked the doctor." She realizes it's going to be months of him fussing over her, but she honestly doesn't mind. In fact, it's wonderful to have someone care this much about her and their child. She swivels in his arms to smile up at him. "You've accepted all this baby stuff pretty easily," she observes, titling her head to the side with an amused grin lifting up the corners of her mouth.

"You sound surprised, love."

"Well, I am. I mean, you didn't even flinch or anything when I told you."

"Why would I have done that?"

"You have to admit it's a shock."

"A shock, yes, but not in anyway unpleasant." Emma tilts her head a little further to the side, skeptical, and Killian sighs, rolling in his eyes in a gesture reminiscent of his soon to be wife. "I realize some men are put off by news like this when it's not a planned pregnancy, but Emma... we're both adults. We made a decision to have unprotected sex - "

"I was on the pill," she reminds him with a raised eyebrow then adds as a concession, "although that's not quite the same thing as also using a condom."

"Aye, you were on the pill, but we both made a decision to forego any other protection and now," he shrugs then gives her a smile, "we'll deal with the repercussions of that decision." Emma bristles at him calling their child a repercussion, but he gives her a quick kiss to the nose and adds, "We'll happily and blissfully deal with the repercussions, love. For the next eighteen years or so, we'll raise our child and any siblings that follow."

"Siblings, huh?"

"Perhaps for a future discussion?"

"Yeah, maybe get me through this pregnancy before we start planning any more, okay?"

"Aye, love, whatever your heart desires."

---

Emma adjusts her veil one more time, turning her head from side to side to make sure it's hanging exactly the way she wants. The last time she'd worn this dress, she'd foregone the veil, the implications of its slight weight too much for her to carry then. Now she can't stop beaming at her reflection in the mirror, her hair up and the veil pinned into place over it.

It's a miracle the dress Emma had worn last time was available. Emma is convinced Mary Margaret threatened bodily harm to get it, but she knows better than to question it too closely. Turning on her heel, she smiles as the silk skirt flares out around her. She'd been worried that the waist would be too tight now, but the little weight she's gained appears to be mostly in her chest, if the tight bodice is any indication. The rest of the dress fits like a glove, as if it was made for her and her alone. The veil is a beautiful addition, trailing down past the modest train of her dress, the intricate lace detail on its hem adding a layer of elegance she hadn't realized she'd been missing last time.

She feels like a princess.

She wears the same pearl earrings she'd worn last time and the same pair of silver heels, her toes painted a pearly pink. On her ring finger sits her engagement ring, her wedding band given to David for the ceremony. On her right hand is the ruby ring Killian had given her for Christmas, an heirloom representing her something old.

"You look beautiful, Emma," Mary Margaret exclaims over her shoulder, dressed in a dusty pink gown cut to accommodate her baby bump, the long hem brushing the floor. As lovely as ever, her cheeks are a bright pink and her green eyes sparkle with excitement.

There's a knock at the door and Emma opens it to find the bellboy standing there, holding out a bouquet of pink roses, a perfect match to the ones Killian had given her last time, the color matching the soft hue of Mary Margaret's dress. She gives the young man a watery smile, taking the roses from him along with the card he passes to her. Closing the door, she opens the envelope to find a note in Killian's elegant script.

"You and me, love. Always."

"Oh, those are perfect," Mary Margaret says, stepping over to breathe deeply of the roses, her beaming smile causing Emma to respond in kind. Her happiness is infectious, not that Emma needs much convincing to be happy at the moment.

"From Killian," she replies, a blush warming her cheeks.

"So romantic. All the best husbands are, you know." Mary Margaret gives her a wink then moves into the bathroom to put the finishing touches on her makeup. Emma takes the small note from Killian, folding it over until she can tuck into her bouquet, wanting to carry it with her. Taking a deep sniff of the roses, she smiles then whispers to her belly, "Ready for this, baby? You, me, and your dad...the Joneses."

---

Mary Margaret helps her maneuver her dress down the hall. They pause at the top of the stairs, Emma peering to the bottom, looking for her groom. He's not there and she turns slightly, giving Mary Margaret a questioning look, which she returns with an enigmatic smile. Patting Emma's arm, she leans close and whispers, "Wait here. I have to get your escort."

Emma watches her descend the stairs and disappear into the inn. It only takes a moment and then Emma spots David coming around the corner of the stairs, looking up and giving her a brilliant smile. He jogs up the steps, joining her at the top to hold out his arm.

"Milady," he says, bowing slightly at the waist in greeting. Emma grins and wraps her hand around his elbow, her pink roses brushing against his dashing navy suit. "You look beautiful, Emma."

"Thank you. And you look very charming."

"Well, my wife routinely tells me I am. Nice to know I'm fitting the bill. Ready for this?"

"Yes. Completely."

"Good. I have an anxious groom waiting for you."

"Let's go then." They begin the slow trek down the stairs, Emma using David's arm to keep her steady while her dress and veil fan out behind her. The photographer is at the bottom of the steps, but he fades into the background, an insignificant detail lost to the excitement of the day. As they near the bottom of the stairs, Emma slows, taking a deep breath before stepping down onto the floor of the inn. She feels calm, no butterflies or racing heart as David leads her to the open doors of the restaurant.

They step into the room and Emma gasps at the transformation the space has undergone. Lights have been strung up everywhere, twinkling in great white arcs. Most of the tables and chairs have been cleared to the edges of the room, each covered in a white tablecloth with a pink rose centerpiece, white lights curled amongst the flower petals. There's a small dance floor in the center of the tables and Emma can smell the food being cooked in the kitchen, the wonderful aroma making her stomach growl.

But the person she's looking for is nowhere to be seen. She glances around, noticing that the makeshift trellis the manager had said would be erected at one end of the room is not there either. Glancing at David, she slows her steps, but he continues forward, tugging on her hand when her steps falter.

"Where are we..." she starts to ask, confused.

"You'll see," he tells her, giving her a wink and tugging slightly. There are two waiters standing by the double doors that lead out to the snow covered patio and as she and David approach, they slowly open the doors for them. David leads her forward into the chilly air and she gasps, both at the temperature and the sight before her.

The grounds of the inn have been made over into a fairyland and she can't imagine how it was done without her knowledge. More white lights have been strung in the trees and shrubs around the yard as well as draped along railings and wrapped around columns. Several tall heaters have been placed around the patio, causing the space to blaze with light and warmth. As they walk forward, Emma can feel the heat on her bare shoulders. She's aware that the photographer is moving around them, taking pictures in quick succession, but he fades once again into the periphery.

David leads her forward once again, this time to the edge of the patio where a path has been carved into the snow then covered over by a thick carpet, about the width of a stair runner. It leads down into the yard, directly to the small alcove where she and Killian had pretended to exchange their vows last fall. The same arbor they'd stood before then stands in the alcove, covered now in pink roses and white lights and her eyes fill with tears. The sun is setting behind it all, dusting the snow with oranges, pinks, and lilacs. She spots Killian, standing beside Mary Margaret and to her surprise, Archie, who wears a suit and a smile. She shakes her head, amazed at how this is possible.

"Ready?" David asks, reaching for her hand and squeezing her fingers as the strains of "Like Real People Do" filters out across the snow - the first song they'd ever danced to, she thinks, turning to David with tears in her eyes.

"You bet your ass I am," she replies, giving him a blinding smile of happiness. He returns it then starts them forward, their steps slow and measured as they move toward Killian. Before she knows it, they're standing before him, his navy suit nearly black in the twilight. They pause, David turning to give her a smile and a brotherly kiss to the cheek.

"Be happy," he whispers in her ear before he turns to Killian and shakes his hand. He takes Emma's hand in his and carefully places it in Killian's, stepping away smoothly to stand at the side, his role as escort over as he takes up his position as best man. Emma steps closer to Killian, glancing at Archie, realizing he's there to serve as their officiant as she notes the book clasped in his hands. He smiles pleasantly at them both while Mary Margaret adjusts Emma's train and veil, taking her bouquet so Emma can hold both of Killian's hands in hers.

They face each other, smiles dancing on their lips. Killian wears a tie instead of the open collar he'd favored last time and there's a pink rose in his lapel, a small bud that matches those in her bouquet. She smiles to see it, reaching out with trembling fingers to brush over it. He watches the movement then looks into her face, his expression one of unparalleled love and affection.

The last time she was here like this, there were birds singing and the day was warm with the barest hint of autumn in the air. Now, there's a deep abiding quiet pressing down on them as puffs of their breath dance in the chill. The heat lamps scattered around the alcove keep them warm, but do little to impact the frigid cold outside that circle. Stars being to appear in the dark, velvety sky, twinkling like ice chips and Emma can't help but feel she's stepped into a winter wonderland.

They say their vows in that snowy stillness, their words sweet and warm as they promise to love each other for eternity. Killian slips her wedding band back onto her finger and she does the same for him, feeling the weight of it in her fingers before sliding it into place. When they're finally announced as husband and wife, they grin at each other and step into each other's embrace.

With his hands warm through the satin of her dress, Killian pulls her close, his eyes sparkling with joy as he whispers, "Remember the last time I kissed you here?"

"I do," she replies, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet before finally coming up on her toes.

"I promised you pleasure then," he whispers, leaning in and speaking low. Emma blushes at the memory and gives him a smile, biting her lip in anticipation.

"And now?"

"And now, my love, I promise you a lifetime of it."

"Good," she replies, closing the distance between them to seal their union with a kiss.

The world around them falls away, Killian's arms holding her close and keeping her warm. He lifts her up off her silver shoes, holding her aloft as they kiss and kiss, neither willing to separate despite the way David and Mary Margaret whoop and cheer behind them. When they finally manage to pull away from each other, there are expansive grins on both their faces.

She's officially Mrs. Jones now. She's a wife and he's a husband and from here on out, they're partners. He's got her back and she has his. And the two of them will have their little one's back when he or she arrives in the world.

She can't wait.

---

Killian walks her back down the carpeted path to the waiting patio. Mary Margaret pins her train up for her and she removes her veil, revealing the elaborate updo hidden beneath the gauzy material. She accepts the knitted wrap Killian hands her, a white one that ties in the front to hold it closed. He never leaves her side, bringing her hot chocolate and s'mores from the two stations set up on the patio, checking to make sure she's warm enough, has eaten enough, has enough to drink.

There aren't many guests at the inn on Valentine's Day, but the few that are there are welcomed to the party. There's more than enough food and the atmosphere is festive with music piped out into the chilly night air. When large snowflakes begin to fall, getting caught in Killian's long eyelashes and chilling Emma's cheeks as they land, they all venture inside the inn, leaving the patio doors open so they can watch the snow fall.

They sign the marriage license, Mary Margaret and David adding their names as witnesses. It's a real, legally binding document, nothing fake or forged about it, and Emma has a sudden desire to hang it over the fireplace in their new house.

She can't stop smiling, reaching for Killian as often as he reaches for her. When it's time for dinner, he leads her to the table nearest the fireplace, pushing her chair in as she sits. There's a sign tied to the back of her chair that reads "You" and one tied to his chair that reads "& Me." She recognizes Killian's elegant script and it makes her tear up, the simple message meaning the world to her.

Giving Killian a kiss for his sweet gesture, she then settles into her chair, toeing her shoes off under the table. She watches with excited eyes as the waiters begin to serve the first course - grilled cheese made with bacon and four types of cheese and an amazing, tomato soup on the side that has her asking for more before she's even finished the first. Killian indulges her, telling her with a kiss to her knuckles that he'll take her upstairs later to work off the second helping. She shakes her head at him, but a pleased flush colors her cheeks, the thought of having him as her husband a surprising turn on.

When they've finished dinner, he leads her out to the dance floor, sweeping her into his arms and twirling her around like he's Fred Astaire and she's Ginger Rogers. His arms are strong and steady as they move in an elaborate circle, Emma blushing to feel all eyes on her and her husband. He grins at her and she can't help but return it, the day a perfect way to start their future together.

David and Mary Margaret join them, all four of them dancing under the white twinkle lights, laughing and talking as they twirl past each other. Killian's hands are warm through her dress, each caress reminding Emma of his promise to take her back to their room and celebrate their union.

She can't wait.

---

"Come, wife," he murmurs to her later, tugging on her hand as she hugs Mary Margaret goodbye for the millionth time. She's reluctant to say goodbye, knowing that it'll be a few weeks before they see them again. She and Killian will spend a few more days at the inn then travel to London to enjoy their honeymoon. David had extended Emma's vacation for a couple of weeks, telling her to enjoy herself and meet her new family, a thought that had her heart in her throat when she'd realized it was true.

She has a brother now and a sister -in-laws, but family all the same. And Killian wants to show her where he grew up, wants to take her around to the shipping yards that someday their child will inherit. It's overwhelming, but she's excited, so curious to see Killian's homeland and meet his family and friends, the ones who knew him before he became the dastardly Captain Hook. She knows none of them are aware of his alter ego except Liam, but she wonders if they'll find him much changed from the young man he was when he lived in London.

Turning aside her thoughts for later contemplation, she squeezes Mary Margaret one last time and allows David to press a kiss to her cheek before she turns to Killian. He's so handsome in his dark blue suit, his eyes sparkling with deep affection as she steps to his side and wraps an arm around his waist, her hand coming up to rest over his heart.

"Husband," she says with a smile and he dips his head to press a chaste kiss to her cheek.

"Tired?" he asks, concerned as ever about her wellbeing, especially now that she's carrying his babe.

"Not so very much," she replies, although she knows the second she lays down on their bed, she'll be asleep in minutes. Although, with the look Killian is giving her at the moment, he might find a way to keep her awake. She grins at him and he returns it, his eyes lighting up even more and it's with a naughty grin on both their lips that he turns her to the entrance of the restaurant. They make their way to the grand staircase, a smattering of applause following in their wake.

"We can have another, bigger wedding later, Swan, if you want," he tells her as they begin to ascend the stairs.

"Nah, this was perfect. This was us. Back to our roots."

"I like that." She hums in agreement, turning her head to catch his gaze with her own, giving him a small wink. He links their hands as each step takes them closer to their room. When they reach it, they pause, Emma wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing up onto her tiptoes to kiss him. She's pretty sure her shoes are still in the dining room along with her bouquet, but she's too interested in kissing her husband to worry about that right now.

Killian slowly inclines his head, meeting her mouth with his and sighing into the kiss, a soft, gentle one as they sway together. Then he's pulling away and lifting Emma in his arms to carry her over the threshold of their room. It's a bit of a maneuver, unlocking the door with the length of her gown bunched up in his arms, but they manage it and soon enough, he's setting her back on her feet beside their bed.

"Have I told you how absolutely breathtaking you are in your dress, love?"

"I think once or twice," she replies with a shy smile and he gives her one of those earnest, awe filled looks, causing a blush to settle in her cheeks as she ducks her head. He clucks at that, catching her chin to hold her gaze to his.

"I've never seen anyone more beautiful than you standing at the end of that path. You were radiant, Emma. Truly." She swallows over the lump in her throat and manages to whisper back, "And you were devilishly handsome in your suit and tie." He grins at that, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. He still manages to look dapper even now, hours after the main event, his hair perfectly styled and his tie knotted in the middle of his neck.

It's a shame such a beautiful throat is covered, she thinks, reaching up with tentative fingers to begin working at the knot, wanting to see him...to really see him. Husband, she thinks with pleasure, undoing the tie and tossing it away. Killian, normally a neat freak, allows the careless toss, his hands on her waist as she begins to unbutton his suit jacket then moves to the shirt beneath it, silently cursing the numerous buttons. In minutes, he's standing there with his chest bared as her hungry mouth latches onto his throat, right over his pulse. She tongues at his heartbeat and the spattering of freckles just there, pulling back to inspect her work and flushing with pride at the bright red mark she's left behind.

When she slides her hands into the waistband of his pants, he reaches for her wrists. Giving her a look, an eyebrow raised in reprimand, he leans close enough to whisper, "It's your turn to lose an article of clothing, wife."

The word makes her hot, her mind short-circuiting as he carefully turns her around. Thankfully, the back of her dress has a built in zipper hidden beneath the row of decorative buttons and it only takes a moment before the bodice goes slack and he's helping her step out of the voluminous skirt. She's left standing topless in a small pair of white panties with a pretty bow on the rump. He takes the dress into the other room, no doubt laying it out over the couch to keep it from getting wrinkled, returning to find her with her arms crossed over her chest.

Smiling, he steps closer and her arms fall away, allowing him to feast his gaze upon her bared flesh. He doesn't waste any time pulling her back into his arms, careful of her sensitive breasts. Dipping his head, he tongues at one nipple, looking up to make sure it's okay. She gives a nod, letting her head fall back as he then sucks her into the slick warmth of his mouth. He's unbelievably gentle, his hands warm on her body, his mouth tender, not quite treating her like she's made of glass, but worshipping her as if she's something delicate and precious all the same.

It's not long before she's once again reaching for his pants, which this time he allows. He's soon standing before her naked, his body lean and perfect, his manhood bobbing proud between his legs. He's absolutely gorgeous, the sensuality of him otherworldly as he watches her with a smirk on his generous lips. She steps into him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders to kiss him, moaning at the silky feel of his tongue on hers.

They make their way to the bed, Killian letting her down first, allowing her to shimmy out of her underwear before he joins her. Propping himself up on one hand, he stares down at her, eyes sparkling in the light they've left on, his happiness tangible. With his hand pressed between her breasts, he slides it slowly down her torso to the bump of her lower belly, letting his hand rest there. He looks down, watching as he splays his fingers out, the contrast of his darker skin against her paleness erotic.

"Thank you for this, love," he whispers, awe and appreciation in the words. She gives him a small smile that he doesn't catch, reaching down to press her hand to his. "Something could still go wrong, you know."

"Perhaps," he acknowledges, knowing Emma isn't searching for words of comfort right now, only practicality. "But to my way of thinking, love, this little one fought to exist in the world. I can't imagine tenacity like that ending anytime soon."

She sniffles a little and he looks up, lifting his hand to press against her cheek. His eyes flit back and forth between hers and then he's lowering his mouth to hers, kissing her softly and sweetly, over and over until her entire body is humming. Cupping one breast in his large hand, he glides his mouth down to it, tenderly kissing her, suckling her body with care. She writhes against the bed, wanting more, needing more, but he stretches it out, his hand dipping between her thighs to tease, never fully allowing her release.

When she feels like she can't take any more, she pushes him onto his back and does the same for him, working him up until he's panting and moaning. There's not an inch of his body she doesn't explore, doesn't taste, whispering sinful promises into his skin. When she aligns her mouth with the thick column of his cock and takes him in, he groans, his entire body going slack as she mouths over him. Hand between his thighs to press up and find that well hidden spot to enhance his pleasure, she dances her tongue and lips over him, marveling at how unbelievably sexy he is, head thrown back, arms tensed as he clutches the sheets, his stomach rippling with pleasure.

He doesn't allow her to take care of him completely and she doesn't mind one bit, moving up and off him at his prompting. They're both panting, hearts racing as they reach for each other. They kiss and touch, much more frantic now, their desire at an all time high. Killian maneuvers her to the edge of the body, shifting her body so that she's on her back with her hips angled to the side, legs together. With her shoulders pressed to the mattress, she can look up at him in this position. She does so, groaning to find him stroking himself as he stares down at her with hungry eyes.

"This okay?" he asks, stepping closer to the bed and holding himself steady, rubbing the tip of his cock through her exposed folds. They both groan, Emma because he manages to slide against her clit just right, Killian due to the slickness of her body.

"Yeah, it's okay." Not needing more permission than that, he closes the gap between them, pressing his cock inside her, another groan of satisfaction slipping from their mouths. The slide, the stretch, the burn of him becoming one with her - she's never felt such bliss as this, never experienced pleasure so deep before this man claimed her as his lover.

"Unbelievable," he manages to get out as he slides all the way home. The position makes him feel even larger to Emma, his cock stroking her deliciously. Wrapping her fingers up in the sheets, she watches his face as he stares at where they're joined, slowly pumping his hips in and out of her. "Emma. God, Emma," he pants and she gives him a saucy grin.

"Good?" He nods eagerly in response, his teeth pressing into his bottom lip. He rests both hands on her hip, his thrusts gentle and deep, each rolling flex of his hips pulling grunts of pleasure from him. "You feel tighter like this. And you're so hot and wet. Such a perfect, pretty cunt, love," he tells her, his eyes flicking up to hers and then down again, mesmerized by the way they join together.

She relishes each thrust, each groan pulled from Killian's lips. She watches as he brings a hand to his mouth and licks his thumb, bringing it down to where he's sliding in and out of her. Hitching her top leg up a little, he's able to press between her folds and find her clit, massaging it lackadaisically in time with his thrusts.

"Mmm, that's it, darling," he murmurs, listening to Emma's moans grow louder at his touch, "take my cock." His thrusts grow a little harder, a little sharper, but she doesn't mind. If anything, it intensifies her pleasure. Killian is an amazing lover, so attentive, putting her first each and every time. She's an incredibly lucky woman and she's going to enjoy every second with him that she can, have her fill of him and then hopefully, have more. "Can you come like this, love?"

"God, yeah," she says, head rolling in the sheets, eyes screwed shut with pleasure. As she climbs higher and higher toward her peak, Killian grips her leg, lifting it up and rolling her completely onto her back. With her legs wide, he returns his thumb to her clit, maintaining that slow and easy massage with each jerk of his hips.

"Yes, Emma. God, love, take me deep," he pleads, eyes rolling in his head as he fucks her. She gasps as his speed picks up and she focuses solely on the movement between her legs, crying out for more until he tips her over into her release, her orgasm barreling up from the soles of her feet to overwhelm every nerve ending along the way. She hears Killian roar, feels him piston his hips as he empties himself inside her rippling sheath, her name falling like a benediction from his lips.

He doesn't pull out right away, standing between her thighs as they both try to catch their breath. When he finally does glide out, they groan at the loss, his seed sliding wetly onto the sheets beneath her. He helps her sit up, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then he's falling to his knees before her, his arms wrapping around her waist as he presses his head to her breast.

"Hey. What's wrong?" she asks, feeling him shake in her arms.

"How can you love a man like me?" he asks, his voice breaking. "After everything I've done, the man I was...I don't deserve you."

"Oh, Killian," she whispers, her heart feeling like it's going to shatter into pieces over this man. Wrapping him up in her embrace, she strokes her fingers through his hair. "How can I not love a man like you? You are a good man, scars and all. You never judge me, you simply love me. I couldn't be happier to spend the rest of my life with you. I absolutely adore you, my love."

She murmurs all this while leaving kisses in his hair and hugging him close, rocking him like a child in her arms. When he lifts his head, there are tears in his eyes and she brushes at them, her heart absolutely full of love for him. Telling him to settle under the sheets, she gets up and moves to the bathroom, cleaning herself up and returning to him with a glass of water and more kisses. Their needs taken care of, they nestle under the blankets together, Emma pulling him into her arms and letting him rest his ear over her heart, his body heavy and warm against her.

"I promise I'll always be by your side, Emma. Both of you," he whispers sometime later, his hand pressed once again over her belly. She smiles into the now darkened room and presses another kiss to the top of his head.

"I know."

---

They spend the next several days enjoying time alone together before they pack for their tip to England. Emma is anxious, both excited to meet Killian's older brother and terrified at the same time. Killian describes Liam as best he can, but he only makes him sound like an imposing older brother with sky high expectations. Killian assures her that she'll be fine, that Liam is overprotective to a fault, but underneath that, he's really a teddy bear.

Despite having gotten to know the man a little while she kept him updated on Killian's recovery, she's still petrified she won't measure up to those expectations.

Her fears are assuaged when they arrive in London, though, Liam himself acting as their chauffeur despite the late hour. Emma finds herself enveloped in a bear hug only two steps from the baggage claim, the taller Jones brother nearly lifting her off the ground before he rights her again, stepping back with his hands on her shoulders and a beaming smile shining down at her.

"So, you're the amazing woman who managed to get my brother on the straight and narrow? I can't tell you how happy I am to finally meet you, Emma. Now...tell me how you managed to tame my little brother." She giggles, throwing a look over her shoulder as Killian rolls his eyes and mumbles under his breath, "Younger brother."

Liam, taking Emma's large roller bag in hand, links his arm with Emma, and leads her away, leaving Killian to deal with his luggage on his own. He's grumbling in the background, but when she glances back, he gives her a wink, letting her know it's all in good fun.

When they finally get to the Jones's townhouse in the middle of London, Emma is floored by the sheer size of the place. She can't imagine what something like this must cost and she reminds herself that Killian's family is wealthy - not just rich - but obnoxiously well off, which she supposes now, so is she. It's odd to think that she'll never have to worry about money again and while not uncomfortable, it's hard to comprehend. Setting it aside to digest later, she and Killian turn in for the night.

Emma meets Liam's wife, Elsa, and his young sons, Jack and Devon, the next day. Her equilibrium is off due to jet lag and pregnancy and she sleeps most of the day away, but when she finally pulls herself from bed and makes her way downstairs, she walks into what feels like carefully controlled chaos. Jack, the youngest, is the spitting image of Killian with his black hair and his uncle and father's shade of blue eyes. He runs straight for Emma, wrapping himself around her legs and looking up at her with a mischievous grin.

"Jack! Be careful with your Aunt Emma!" A lyrical voice calls from the kitchen table and Emma looks up to find the most beautiful woman she's ever seen in real life sitting at the table with a nearly docile - in comparison - little boy beside her. This must be Devon, Emma thinks. He has his father's curls, only his are the fairest blond. He's also inherited the Jones' brothers blue eyes, although the shape of them match his mother's. They're absolutely beautiful children and Emma can't help wondering what her and Killian's own child will look like.

Brushing her hand gently over her belly, she manages to extract Jack from around her legs and moves to the table, where Elsa stands and greets her with a hug. Emma feels immediately welcome and as she settles at the table, Jack insisting on sitting next to her, she remembers that this is her family, too. The thought brings tears to her eyes that she tries to hide, blaming them on pregnancy hormones, although it feels like a lot more than that.

Elsa wastes no time getting to know Emma, sharing bits and pieces of her own life as they chat. Emma is surprised to find that Elsa is an orphan, too, her own parents having died at sea when she was a young girl, leaving her and her younger sister, Anna, alone to manage their family's small empire. While the money part is similar to Liam and Killian's history, the rest is so achingly similar to Emma's background that she feels like she's met a kindred spirit.

Liam and Killian join them not long after that and they enjoy lunch together. Killian is wonderful with his nephews, treating them like small adults and not little boys. He speaks respectfully to them, asking them serious questions about their various hobbies, listening attentively to their answers. He jokes with them, teasing Devon with a wink and getting up to chase Jack around the kitchen island after he's finished his lunch. Liam watches his brother with a gleam of happiness in his eyes and when he catches Emma staring at him from across the table, he gives her a sheepish grin.

"I won't lie, Emma," he tells her, leaning forward and lowering his voice. "When Killian first mentioned you to me, I was suspicious of your motives."

"Well, after Milah, I'm not surprised," she acknowledges.

"She left him for a ruin," Liam replies, his eyes flitting back to watch his younger brother and youngest son move about the room like mirrors of each other. "I feared for a long time that I had lost him to his darker nature." He pauses, then turns back to Emma. "I can see now that he didn't need me to save him, he only needed someone to show him how to save himself. I do believe you had a lot to do with that. It's easy to see, even in the short time I've known you that you only want the best for him."

Tears fill Emma's eyes once again and she blinks, turning her head to watch Killian. He lifts Jack up, his hands around his middle, the small child shrieking in pleasure as his uncle holds him high above his head.

"I do," she manages to get out, turning back to Liam and not bothering to hide the fact that tears now streak her face. "And he wants what's best for me."

They spend the rest of the day plotting out their visit, Killian excited to take Emma around to see the sights, but also wanting to make sure there's enough time to spend with family. They plan day trips with only the two of them and then fun family days as well as time to simply relax. Emma makes sure that Killian allows for a day with only him and Liam together, Elsa catching on quickly and suggesting separate boys and girls days.

"I can take Emma shopping," she suggests, adding, "and then we can have lunch with Anna while you two go off and do manly things together." Everyone seems agreeable to that and Elsa throws Emma a wink over her shoulder as she goes back to clearing the table of their dinner dishes.

Every day for the next two weeks is planned out by the time they're done and Emma is excited for the adventures they'll have together. Liam and Elsa are wonderful hosts, both of them sincerely happy to see Killian and meet Emma and as they all settle down to enjoy dessert together, Killian casually throws his arm over the back of Emma's chair, leaning closer to whisper in her ear.

"Shall we tell them?"

"Tell us what?" Liam asks, his head coming up and his blue eyes focusing on Killian. Killian waits for Emma's permission; she's into her second trimester now and the fears she'd initially had about the pregnancy have lessened with each successful week. It's time to share the news. Swallowing over the sudden lump in her throat, this one of excitement, she nods and smiles as Killian presses a kiss to her temple.

"Well, brother, you're going to be an uncle," he says, turning in his seat to beam at Liam. It takes the words a second to process and then Liam is beaming, standing and reaching for Killian's hand to pull him to his feet and give him a hug.

"Congratulations!" he cries, slapping Killian on the back soundly and pulling back to grin into his brother's face. It's a sweet moment and tears slip from Emma's eyes, especially when Liam helps her to her feet and gives her a hug, whispering in her ear, "Congratulations, love."

---

The next two weeks fly by in a flurry of activity. Killian escorts Emma around London, showing her where he spent his youth. He takes her by the headquarters of L & K Shipping, grinning as he introduces her to the men and women who helped raise him after his mother's death, his pride at telling folks she's his wife quite possibly the cutest thing she's ever seen. He takes her shopping and to museums and other tourist attractions, out to dinner at fancy restaurants. She returns back to Liam and Elsa's townhouse those days, exhausted but happy, learning a little more about Killian with every trip.

True to their word, Emma and Elsa spend a day together, leaving Devon and Jack with a nanny while Liam and Killian go to a pub and a football match. They enjoy a spa day, Emma choosing a pregnancy massage from one of the available packages. It includes a pedicure, manicure, and facial along with a full body massage and by the time she's done, she feels like a new woman. Elsa tells her she has a pregnancy glow and Emma has to admit, she looks peaceful and well rested, her cheeks pink with happiness.

After lunch with Elsa's chatty younger sister, they return to the townhouse, Emma going upstairs for a nap while Elsa tries to get the boys to take baths before dinner. The room she and Killian share is quiet, the blinds drawn and the air cool. She removes her jeans and shoes, but leaves her sweater on, not bothering to slip under the blankets as she makes herself comfortable on the bed, falling almost immediately asleep. She wakes a while later to the bed dipping, a warm body pressing behind her. With Killian's breath in her ear, she smiles and snuggles back against him, her nearly bare rump rubbing deliciously against him.

"Minx," he whispers in a gravelly voice, his hand coming up to tenderly cup her breast in his hand. He knows she's sore most days, but her fuller breasts are a draw for him. As long as he's gentle, he can touch and the warmth of his palm as he carefully massages her feels divine, especially when he rolls his thumb over her sensitive nipple.

"Who, me?" she asks innocently, turning her head so he can claim her lips if he chooses, which he does. They share soft, nipping kisses, his teeth worrying her lip before soothing it with swipes from his tongue. They've been so busy lately that most nights Emma falls right asleep, her pregnant body needing at least eight hours of sleep for her to feel even remotely human the next day. Killian has been a trooper, but even he has his limits, she realizes as the hard length of him rubs against the curve of her ass.

"Yes, you," he replies with a chuckle. "Lying here half-dressed and beautiful. How is a man to resist such a treasure?"

"I really hope you don't," she replies, reaching up to grip the back of his head and pull him closer for another kiss. His large hand wanders from her breast to her belly, where he splays his fingers and gives a gentle caress before sliding to the waistband of her panties.

"Sure?" he asks, as always concerned with her comfort. She nods, seeking his mouth again and losing herself in his plundering kiss. Every nerve ending is on fire for him and she wants nothing more than for him to take her hard and fast, to plunge his cock into her and make her come so hard she won't be able to walk afterwards. It's been since the inn that they've had each other and she's desperate, her need for him multiplied by the hormones running rampant through her body.

Right as he moves to dip his hand between her legs, she pulls back and asks, "Door locked?" He nods, chasing her mouth, their tongues tangling as he slides his hand under the waistband of her bright red panties, moaning when he feels her bare sex.

"What did you do?" he asks in awe, pulling back to look into her eyes.

"Surprise," she whispers in a teasing singsong voice, grinning when Killian suddenly moves, shifting her onto her back. He moves down her body, hands on the thin straps of her underwear as he slides them down her legs. The wax had been part of her spa day and she'd decided to remove everything, the thought of Killian's stubble on the bare lips of her sex an amazing turn on.

"For me?" He's breathless, eyes wide with lust as he glances up into her face. She bites her lip and nods, cheeks pink at how pleased he is by the gesture. Then he's shouldering her legs apart, his mouth on her in seconds. She's been ramped up all day, her thoughts constantly on her husband, so the first swipe of his tongue over her clit causes her to jerk in his hold and whimper. "Hmm, how wet and lovely," he pulls back to whisper. Giving a grin, he goes back to teasing her clit with several quick brushes of his tongue. "Mmm... you're shaking, sweetheart. Close already?"

"God, yes," she whimpers then she's sitting up, jerking her sweater over her head before laying back down to palm gently at her heavy breasts. Killian groans, watching from between her legs with hungry eyes.

"That's it, love. You're so beautiful when you touch yourself." He settles back between her legs, lifting one leg up over his shoulder and moving in to feast on her, his stubble rough against her exactly as she'd hoped. He teases her entrance with a finger, sliding only the tip, his rhythm steady as he tongues her clit. She can feel his eyes on her, but she's lost in the sensation of his mouth, her fingers caressing her nipples into hard peaks through the satin of her bra. With her head thrown back, her hips begin to undulate of their own accord.

"That's it, love...fuck yourself on me," Killian murmurs in encouragement, pulling back to watch his fingers between her folds. She begins to ride his hand, taking in first two fingers then a third, grinding down in satisfaction when he goes deep. Her skin flushes with arousal as sweat breaks out over her body. Eyes squeezed shut, back arching, she takes him deeper, needing all he can give her. He continues to watch her move, dipping his head now and then to flick his tongue gently over her swollen bundle of nerves, causing her to gasp out his name and shudder in his hold. "So beautiful, Emma."

"Oh, god," she murmurs, continuing to ride his fingers. Using his free hand, he separates the folds of her body, eyes on her clit before he settles down to eat her. He groans along with her, moving his hips on the bed to find relief, his desperation adding to her arousal. With his devious tongue flicking over her again and again, she clamps down on him and cries out, coming so hard that stars burst behind her eyelids.

The pleasure is intense and she feels entirely sapped once it's over, her body relaxed and sated. Panting, she lays there, thinking it would be impossible to move any time soon. She feels the bed dip beneath her and squinting, she finds Killian still between her legs, shoving his jeans away, removing his socks and underwear. He glances up at her, licking his lips when he sees her sprawled out before him. His hand wraps around his cock and he strokes himself, eyes moving from her flushed face to her heaving breasts down to her glistening sex.

"Can I have you, Emma?" he asks plaintively and surprisingly, watching as that large hand moves over his rigid flesh, she feels a spark of desire flare again, her clit throbbing in time with his movements.

"Yeah, you can fuck me," she tells him, grinning when the dirty curse falls from her lips and he groans. Moving up beside her, he has her rest on her side, shifting behind her so that he's pressed against her back, his cock sliding into the crevice of her ass as he positions himself.

"I've wanted you like this since the day you let me pleasure you on the couch, did you know that?" he asks her and she shakes her head in surprise. "Oh, aye, love. It's one of my favorite fantasies, taking you from behind like this."

"Good," she moans as he lifts her top leg up, gripping her thigh in his large, steady hand and holding her open as he thrusts his hips, probing at her entrance with the belled tip of his cock. "In a few months, this will be one of the only positions I can manage."

"I look forward to that," he whispers in her ear, thrusting up inside her as he clicks the end of the last word, his teeth coming together to emphasis his point. Still swollen and wet from her first orgasm, he slides easily all the way inside, her tight sheath stretching deliciously around him. They both groan, Killian stilling to give her a moment to accommodate him. It's been a while and he's sensitive to the fact that things are different now, her body changing with each week of her pregnancy.

"God, I love how you stretch me," she whines, squeezing her inner muscles around him and earning another groan from her husband. She grins, looking over her shoulder to find his cheeks flushed and his eyes a fathomless blue of lust and love. "Best cock I've ever had," she adds.

He actually blushes at that, crushing his mouth to hers and kissing her for all he's worth. She whimpers into him, reaching down between her legs to brush over her still sensitive clit and hissing at the combination of pleasure and pain. Killian still hasn't moved, simply enjoying the feel of being inside her again, but she needs more and angling her hips back, she pulls away from his mouth long enough to plead for it.

"Fuck me, Killian. Please. I need you so badly." Then his mouth is on hers again as he heeds her request, moving impossibly deep then sliding out only to plunge back inside, moving at a rhythm that steals the air from her lungs. She glides her fingers over her clit again and again, enjoying her pleasure as it bursts along her skin, squeezing her inner muscles around Killian as he plunges into her. He holds her leg up for her, keeping her open and it's not long before he finds the perfect angle, his thickness stroking her inner walls with precision and turning her world inside out.

"I wish you could see how lovely you are like this," he tells her, lips over her ear, voice low and sensual. "So beautiful, my wife, my Emma."

There's something in the way he says her name, the sound of the syllables a tender possession on his tongue that brings her closer to the edge than she'd been before. He's doing as she'd asked, fucking her wonderfully, each thrust a little rough at the edges and scratching the itch that's been with her all day, but the emotion between them, even when they're being raunchy like this, brings tears of joy to her eyes. The intimacy of the moment sweeps her up and she cries out, watching his face over her shoulder as he watches her back with adoration in his blue eyes.

"That's it, love. Oh, that's it. I can feel how close you are. Ride me. Ride me and touch yourself. Come hard on my cock. Let me see you fall, sweetheart."

She's crying out incoherently, fingers rubbing at her swollen clit as he takes her to the brink. Soon enough, all she can see is his blue eyes sparkling down at her, lovestruck and fathomless. Reaching up with her free hand, she grips the back of his head for something to hold onto as her orgasm crashes into her. Her toes curl, the soles of her feet beating with indescribable pleasure as wave after wave of her release flows up through her legs, shooting into her fingertips and pulling a long, low cry from her mouth. He dips his mouth to hers, swallowing the sound of her orgasm, pumping his hips once, twice, following her on the third thrust, his own cry lost to their kiss.

She doesn't remember much after that, coming to with Killian still pressed to her back, arm slung over her waist and pinning her to the bed. He's no longer inside her, but their hips are still aligned, his soft cock brushing now and then against her sensitive flesh. It's always been good with him, but god, she thinks with a blush, that had been the best sex they've ever had. If her body wasn't so sore and protesting, she'd wake him up for another go round. As it is, she extracts herself from his grip and moves into the bathroom, cleaning carefully between her tender thighs and returning to find her underwear and a pair of yoga pants to slip into.

He wakes long enough to welcome her back into his arms, pressing a sleepy kiss to her forehead before they both fall back into the waiting arms of sleep, their happiness a blanket that comforts them both.

---

They leave a few days later. Emma is ready to be home, her thoughts on setting up a nursery and creating a list of all the things they need before the baby arrives. Liam and Elsa, with the boys in tow, take them to Heathrow, all of them giving multiple hugs goodbye before Emma and Killian leave to check their bags. It's been the most wonderful couple of weeks, but they're eager to be home and settled into a routine.

Killian had talked with Liam about his plans for the future and he tells her about the discussion once they've settled into their seats on the plane. "He told me I don't have to work in the family company if I don't want to."

"Do you want to?" she asks, knowing it isn't a simple yes or no.

"I'm not sure. I didn't particularly enjoy being the poster child for the company the first time around and Liam seems to understand that now. Perhaps there's a way I can work more in the background. He's better at that type of stuff anyways and I've always enjoyed being more hands on, doing the dirty work." She grins, knowing he speaks the truth about that. He returns her grin, giving her a salacious look with one eyebrow raised and his tongue lodged in the corner of his mouth.

"Well," she finally says, breaking his gaze to look out the window beside her, "you can always give it a try for a while and if it doesn't suit you, you can find something else to do. On your own terms."

"I suppose," he agrees. Then he's reaching for her hand, linking their fingers as they settle into their seats. "I do want to keep my job at the docks. I enjoyed my time as the harbormaster and Regina has no problems with me continuing in the role. I can do work with L & K Shipping on the side for now, get my toes wet, so to speak." She hums in agreement, wrapping her arm around his and nestling her head down on his shoulder. She knows he'll figure out what he wants to do in his own time and on his own terms. In the meantime, she'll support him and encourage him, provide him the cheering section she suspects he's always needed in life.

That's her job now, as his wife and partner, a position she's happy to take up as they figure out how to do this thing called marriage.

---

As they fly through the clouds, Emma's head on his shoulder, their hands clasped in her lap and pressing lightly over the rounded curve of their child, she reflects on how much her life has changed in the past year. She's gone from a life of loneliness and misery to having a family, a husband and a child on the way, neither of which she ever thought she would have for herself. She has friends, good friends who stand beside her and lift her up, who genuinely care about her and Killian. She has a sister and brother now and two of the cutest nephews ever.

She has a home of her own, a steady job that is challenging and rewarding, but best of all, she has this man beside her. This man who started out as a villain and became her hero, a partner in all things, and a best friend. Someone to hold her hand on both the good and bad days, someone to have her back, to give advice and support.

To give love.

She never would've thought that magic was possible before meeting Killian, but every day since he's entered her life has had a little bit of sorcery in it, a little bit of the otherworldly and pre-destined. Thinking over what her life is now, she knows it won't always be happy or peaceful, but with Killian by her side, she'll get through it. There isn't anything they can't manage when they're together and while there'll be days when it feels more like work than magic, there's no one else she'd rather experience it with than him.

Turning her head, she burrows closer into his warmth and smiles as he drops a loving kiss to her temple, humming softly under his breath about happy beginnings as the plane flies them to their future.

---

So, that's it. The last chapter. And before you ask, I think an epilogue is unlikely, although I won't say never. Thank you so much for following this story and commenting on it. Your passion for it has meant the world to me. I'm sad to see this version of Killian and Emma come to a close, but I've enjoyed the past two years fleshing them out. Now...on to real life things, namely the human I'm growing myself. And, if you're wondering, this is a case of life imitating art because I always planned on Emma being pregnant in the end...I just didn't know I'd be joining her!

---

A/N - It's two years and some change since I completed this story. I had fun re-reading it and posting. Still no plans for an epilogue - that little baby of mine is an active toddler now! ;)