Omg. Sorry for the wait on this one. I really wanted to make sure it came out okay, and I really hope it did lol.

Without further adieu, the chapter we've been waiting for. ;) I hope I did it justice!

~cosette141

Killian was exhausted.

He was still running, with no bloody idea where he was going to find Emma, holding onto pure hope to lead him in the right direction.

But somewhere amidst his fear and hopelessness, it almost felt like he was getting nearer to her, like a strange warmth that, for some reason, tingled at the end of his left arm.

He hasn't felt phantom pains, or the illusion that his hand was still there for years.

He held onto that sliver of hope and kept running, ignoring how much he hurt, how tired he was, because bloody hell, he needed to find her.

He hadn't felt this kind of fear since Dreamshade took Liam.

Since Milah died in his arms.

Since Henry found him in that bloody building and told him the Crocodile was going to kill Emma.

Yet, this panic, this fear, was so much worse than all of it.

Because he's grown to care for Emma more than he'd ever cared for anyone.

And he could not bloody lose her.

He kept running.

Emma ran, chest burning from the exertion, feeling the warmth in her grow more and more with every step.

Killian's hook was a North Star, and it was leading her to him, she could feel it. Her fingers held the steel as tightly as she'd hold his own hand. Twigs snapped into her face, burning her cheeks as she went but she didn't care.

The glow was nearly as bright as the moon, and she was so close she could feel it.

He was close.

He was so close.

Her eyes scanned the darkness as she ran, and she picked up her pace even more.

"Killian?!" she called breathlessly.

"Killian?!"

Killian abruptly stopped, freezing, his head snapping up.

He knew that voice.

Emma.

Emma.

That was Emma's voice.

It was coming from somewhere ahead of him.

Desperate hope flaring in his chest, he ran even faster.

"Emma!"

"Emma!"

Emma stumbled to a stop in shock.

Killian.

That was Killian.

A shaky smile touched her lips, hope burning inside her, and she ran faster.

And suddenly, she could hear footsteps, hear the distinct swish and snap of a long coat billowing, the scent of the sea and leather touched the air—

Something between a laugh and a sob escaped her chest.

And there, emerging from the trees ahead of her—

Killian.

He was running just as fast as she was. The moment he saw her, his eyes widened, relief eliciting a broken smile from him.

And, finally, finally, so absolutely finally Emma reached him, crashing into him so hard she almost knocked him over. But he caught her, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her into him, as desperately as a drowning person would grasp help. She grabbed him just as tightly, as close to him as she could get, clinging to him, but no less than he was her. She buried her head in his chest, tears burning down her cheeks.

He was here.

He was here.

"Emma," he gasped, and Emma just held him tighter.

"Killian," she whispered brokenly, a smile touching her lips.

"You're all right," he whispered into her hair, as if to himself more than her. "Gods, you're all right," he breathed.

"Killian," she choked out.

He was here.

She found him.

And he was okay.

Every sense of hopelessness melted away in an instant. She sank into his embrace, shutting her eyes even as another tear escaped them, never, ever, wanting to let him go. "You're okay," she broke out, her arms wrapping around him tighter, smiling brokenly against him—

—but it suddenly made Emma remember his condition.

She pulled sharply away from him, eyes suddenly wide. "You—you were sh-shot," she stammered, heart picking up, moving to look at him, find the injury—

"Aye… I was," he said, pulling her quickly back to him before she could, like he couldn't stand even that much distance between them. "But I've been healed. I'm all right, love."

Healed? Questions raced through Emma's mind, but right here, right now, she didn't care. He was okay, he was safe, she was in his arms and she didn't care how. Emma's eyes burned, and she buried her face back into his chest, her fingers tangling in the material of his jacket.

"I was so scared," she choked out, pulling back again to see him, needing to see the proof that it was really him in her arms. He only let her pull back a few inches, his muscles tightening, like a reflex keeping her close to him. Her fingers fisted tighter his coat, terrified he'd be pulled from her grip, that he'd be torn away from her again. "Th-there was so much blood," she breathed, mind flashing back to it. "I've never seen Henry so—" Her voice hitched. "Killian, when I saw…" Her eyes burned. "I thought you were—" She didn't say it, couldn't say it, but he heard it nonetheless.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pulling her tighter to his chest, shutting his eyes. "I couldn't let him take Henry." But he froze for a moment in her grip, voice breathlessly asking, "Is the lad all right?"

But it just burned Emma's eyes, both missing Henry and hearing just how much Killian cared for him. "Yes," she said through a watery smile, fingers curling tighter around his jacket. "Thanks to you. He's in Storybrooke with Regina; she's protecting him. Pan won't be able to get past her and Cora," she whispered.

But Killian's hold around her grew rigid, all his muscles taut, and Emma felt her heart skip. "Henry was never Pan's target," he breathed, making Emma pull back to see his eyes giving away just how terrified he's been.

Emma felt herself tense amidst the tremor of adrenaline and fear still wracking her frame. "What?"

That fear in Killian's eyes only deepened, his arms only curling even tighter around her, and it was only now Emma could feel she wasn't the only one shaking. "Emma, he wants you."

A chill swept down her spine.

Her heart stopped.

"Me?" she echoed, voice small.

"He needs you, or your magic, I presume," said Killian quickly. "He needed you to come to Neverland on your own. His plan had been to use Henry to lure you here."

Pan wanted her?

But why—?

Emma suddenly remembered the Lost Boy, who had tricked her.

He hadn't tried to kill her.

He'd tried to take her.

It suddenly made sense.

And so did Killian's near-crushing grip on her, holding her like he thought she'd be torn from him.

"When I… got here," said Killian unsteadily, and Emma's eyes snapped back to him. "I…" He winced. "I was… fading," he whispered, and Emma's fingers tightened around his jacket so hard it hurt. "Pan healed me, intending to use me to lure you, because…" Killian's eyes found hers, and shining among the panic and the desperation was a tiny shred of wonder. "Because even without Henry, you came… for me." A shaky smile touched his lips, that wonder breaking through like sun through clouds. "You came for me," he repeated, as if to himself. As if he still couldn't believe it.

"Of course I came for you," she whispered immediately, hurt at the idea that for all this time, he thought she wouldn't. That he thought he wasn't worth it.

Her response only seemed to make more touched disbelief color his eyes.

And then he was pulling her to him for a kiss, like he felt it was the only response that could express just what it meant to him.

His kiss sent warmth throughout Emma's entire body, and it felt like relief.

When they pulled away, he rested his forehead to hers, still holding her to him in an embrace that felt so safe and so strong and like home.

"Gods, I missed you," he whispered, the pain in his words sending a flutter to her chest. But his panic cut through once again, and his eyes scanned the forest around them. "But you're not safe here, Emma—we need to get off this bloody island and back to Storybrooke." His eyes back on her, he stared at her for a moment, like a realization was dawning. And just short of horrified, he said, "You came for me alone?" His hold on her tightened even more with the idea.

"No," said Emma hollowly, biting her lip as fear trickled coldly through her. "Mary Margaret and David are here, and… Neal is, too," she said.

"Neal?" echoed Killian, eyes widening with shock. "Baelfire? I thought—"

"He didn't leave Storybrooke that day," said Emma. "He came back right before you—" Her throat closed up, and Killian's expression fell, hearing what she didn't say. Skipping past it, Emma said, "When I decided to use the bean to come after you, Mary Margaret, David and Neal insisted on coming."

"And where are they now?" asked Killian, voice tightening as his eyes found the clearing empty except for the two of them.

"I don't know," admitted Emma, every ounce of fear coating the words. "I was tricked by this Lost Boy; he lured me away from them and I let him," she mentally kicked herself again— "and he tried to attack me—" Killian's grip on her tightened, fear flashing through his eyes like lightning. "But I… my magic… reacted, and it saved me." Swallowing, she said, "But… when I tried to find them again, I… couldn't." Her eyes finding his pained ones, she whispered, "I got lost."

He pulled her to his chest again, hugging her tightly to him in an even tighter embrace Emma didn't think he ever planned to let go. "Emma, love," he breathed over her shoulder. "You've been alone?"

"Yeah," her small voice choked out, and she felt him pull her even closer. Her eyes burned, because he was here now, and she wasn't alone anymore. Her eyes shut tight, and she melted into his embrace, sinking into his strength.

"Thank the bloody gods we found each other," he whispered. "Luck must be on our side."
"Actually…" she whispered, the ghost of a smile at the corners of her lips. "My… my magic found you."

He pulled back a little, to see her face, his expression perplexed. "What?"

Emma smiled a little, lifting her hand from where she'd been gripping his jacket, where she was still holding Killian's hook. It was still encased in the faint white glow, brighter than it's been yet. At his shock, she said, "I… I kept it with me, and everytime I… held it," she stumbled over the vulnerability a little, "I felt like I was closer to you." A soft smile graced his lips, touched and sad. "When I got lost, I realized that it was my magic telling me how to get closer to you." She smiled a little through the tears still in her eyes. "My magic found you," she said, smile growing.

But he smiled, moisture touching his own eyes, and he corrected softly, "You found me."

Heat touched Emma's cheeks, feeling a burn in her eyes, this time from relief and joy. She slowly tugged at his left arm, pulling it gently from her waist. She reconnected the hook in his brace, locking it with that clink. The glow faded, like it knew it was back where it belonged. Just like she was. She curled her fingers around the steel, this time feeling warmth stronger than his hook has ever elicited in her, because this time, she wasn't holding his hook, she was holding him.

She smiled, hugging him again. Never, ever, ever wanting to let him go.

Killian kissed her hair. "Do you think you can use your magic to find your parents?"

"I don't think I can," whispered Emma, fear sinking into her, dousing the momentary joy like water over a flame. "My parents used this kind of magic before. Rumpl—" She stumbled a little over speaking the name, the apartment flashing abruptly through her mind, making her catch the flinch before it came. She felt Killian's arms tighten reassuringly.

And it just made her eyes burn hotter, because it felt like forever since she'd had his touch, that physical reassurance from him.

"He enchanted my—Mary Margaret's ring, their wedding ring," Emma went on unsteadily, "so that it would glow more the closer David got to her." Her eyes found Killian's. "But I think it's because he had something of hers… and I had something of yours," she whispered, curling her fingers around his hook again.

"You don't have anything of theirs?" asked Killian.

Emma shook her head, fear prickling hotly at her eyes.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, shutting his eyes. "At the very least, if Bae is still with them, he should keep them fairly safe." But his eyes fell to her, to the scrapes on her face and arms from the twigs, and his face looked nothing but tortured. "You were alone," he repeated, words barely audible, his hand on her face, holding her gently.

And it sent a mixture of emotions running through her, because he seemed to know exactly—exactly—how terrifying it had been for her.

"Thank the gods Pan's magic is weak at the moment," he said. "He'd have found you in a heartbeat if it wasn't."

"His magic is weak?" echoed Emma.

"Aye," said Killian. "I only managed to escape because the demon trapped me in a cage he would have normally kept protected with magic. I'm bloody lucky it wasn't." he said, making Emma's heart skip. "Not to mention the fact that Pan couldn't even manage to fully heal my injury. Or he simply chose not to. Still hurts like the bloody devil," he muttered, making Emma freeze. "And, love, remind me to apologize to Lady Belle when we return; that was the most pain I'd suffered since I lost the bloody hand."

Emma was already pulling away, feeling her heart beat faster. "You're still hurt?" she breathed, shaking fingers finding where Henry had said Killian was shot.

The moment her fingers touched him there, he sucked in a breath, flinching a little.

Her chest clenched.

"I'm fine, love," he said, the wince smoothing from his features and replaced with a tired smile. And it was only now that Emma could see just how exhausted he looked; he'd had more color in his face that day in the hospital after he'd been hit by the car. "It's nothing," he insisted gently.

"It's not nothing!" said Emma, knowing now that the way his body was trembling had much less to do with fear and much more to do with pain and weakness.

Emma's shaking fingers found the bottom of his shirt, and she lifted it, revealing—

She sucked in a breath.

"Killian," she breathed.

Imagining that Killian was shot was one thing.

Seeing the proof, however…

It was clear where the bullet struck him; dark, deep bruising contrasted sharply with his skin, and Emma had no doubt the bullet had broken his ribs. Again.

The only thing that looked healed was the open wound itself; it was as if Pan had simply stitched the skin back together to keep him from bleeding out.

"Emma, I'm—"

"You're alive, you're not fine," came Emma's breathless whisper, voice cracking at the last word, her fingers shaking where she still held his vest. She lifted her watery gaze to his tortured one. "He barely healed you at all, Killian!" Her mind flashed back to the blood at the docks. He lost all that blood, was barely healed and he's still standing? She stared at him in utter shock. "How the hell did you even escape like this?!" she exclaimed.

But that made something deep settle into Killian's eyes, something that made Emma still. "I had to get back to you," he said simply. As if it was obvious. As if there was no other possible answer to the question, no other motivation to put himself through hell.

Emma felt her breath catch in her chest.

No one, no one, has ever come back.

Killian had been shot, weak, exhausted, in agony, captive by the person who hated him most…

And the truth was right there in his eyes, unwavering, a devotion carved out of stone; sure and strong.

He defied it all for her.

Not to be free.

Not to be safe.

Not to save himself.

To come back to her.

Emma felt tears touch her eyes, burning at the still-unfamiliar feeling coursing through her. One he'd elicited in her many times over, but it was still strange, the idea of…

…of someone who cared for her, for her, first and foremost.

Not out of convenience.

Not out of using her.

Just…

For her.

Killian gently touched her face, even when his fingers trembled a little from weakness or adrenaline or both. "Bloody nothing could keep me from getting back to you." he said heavily, his voice rough and worn as if he'd fought a thousand battles, and won.

His eyes were soft on hers, despite the pain and fatigue she could see in them. There was a depth in them, like he felt that her believing him was the most important thing to him in the universe.

The rush of feeling at that made a tear slip down her cheek, and she gently kissed him this time, shutting her eyes, both of them sinking into the tenderness, treating each other like they were afraid the other would break.

Emma's walls may be shattered debris inside her, but just because the emotions were there didn't help her figure out how to put them into words. So she hoped that he felt them, and one day she'd be able to shape them with her voice.

She pulled away, the look in his eyes like sunlight off the sea. And she smiled even as another tear fell, because it seemed he'd heard every word she didn't say.

But Emma's hand gently found his side again, ghosting it, her smile faltering.

What she wouldn't give for Regina to be here to heal hi—

She didn't need Regina.

She could heal him.

She has magic.

"I…" she began. "I can try to… heal you," said Emma unsteadily, looking at him. Although she's used magic on purpose a few times, it still usually happens by accident.

Killian's brows lifted a little in surprise—a touched sort of surprise that made Emma's heart flit in her chest. But his brows fell a little as he looked at her, and he said softly, "Thank you, love, but, Emma… you look exhausted. I don't—"

"Killian," she interrupted, wondering how it could both feel so touching that he still kept putting her first and heartbreaking that he kept putting himself last. "You were shot," she breathed, voice shaking, flashing back to the docks with a shiver. "You are shaking," she whispered, eyes burning. "And…" A tear slipped down her cheek. "And I can't stand seeing you hurt."

Something changed in his eyes, deepening, and he said with a touch of sadness, "I know the feeling."

And suddenly Emma was flashing back to when Cora had nearly killed him. When he'd sacrificed himself for her.

"You almost got yourself killed!"

"Better me than you."

"Hook—"

"I can't handle seeing you hurt, love. I've had my bloody fill."

Emma swallowed, mumbling, "Magic… doesn't really drain me." And it hasn't; it's always felt like her magic had an energy source all its own. Though, she's never used it to heal, so she had no idea what it would feel like, or how it would affect her. But with Killian hurt, she couldn't care less what it would do to her.

Ignoring her uncertainty, she looked at him and whispered in a voice that was supposed to come out like a demand but didn't make it past a plea, "Now will you let me try to heal you?"

His gaze held hers, nothing but concern in his, even when he was the one shot and weak. Despite what her magic could do for him, he only cared what it would cost her.

Stupid, stupid gentleman.

But, finally, he gave her a little nod.

And Emma bit her lip, suddenly nervous, because what if she accidentally hurts him?

She felt his arms tighten around her, and she met his eyes, and only saw confidence.

In her.

With a short exhale, she shook out her hand, her other still clutching him to her, her fingers hovering over the gunshot wound. She peeked at him, expecting to see him wince in apprehension, but he didn't. He was watching her, with absolute trust.

So, she shut her eyes, and reached for that warmth inside her.

It was easier to reach this time; she was beginning to understand it. It settled deep within her chest, something that felt like a gentler sort of adrenaline. Magic was all about imagining what she wanted, and using emotion to will it. Almost like wishing something hard enough to make it come true. So, she took a breath, focusing every thought on Killian, on healing him, on taking away his pain.

And suddenly, she felt the warmth trickle through her. A glow emitted from her fingers, making her eyes snap open.

The glow traveled from her fingertips to his skin, consuming the black and blue in a white-gold. Suddenly she saw Killian's eyes shut, and he swayed in her grip. Her other hand reflexively tightened around his arm to steady him, her heart jumping in fear that she was hurting him.

But instead, she saw the lines of pain recede from his face.

It was relief he was feeling, not pain.

Emma felt herself smile, watching her magic work until it faded, leaving Killian's skin looking completely untouched, as if the injury had never been there.

Even the cut that had been over his cheek had been healed.

Killian opened his eyes, looking down to see his newly-healed skin, and he looked at her in awe. Not out of surprise, not even out of relief.

Out of pride.

And it made something like a giggle of relief escape her own chest.

"It… it worked!" she breathed, and Killian smiled. "How do you feel?!" she asked breathlessly.

He smiled, an expression so much less strained. There was more color in his complexion now, and the tremble in his body was nearly gone. "Bloody amazing," he said honestly, pulling her to him, tight and strong, and Emma melted back into his body, the sheer safeness wrapping around her. "Thank you, love," he whispered over her hair.

She smiled against him. He was okay.

After a moment, he pulled back again, eyes scanning the forest around them, saying, "We should move. It's not safe bloody anywhere in Neverland, let alone the heart of the island. We must find your parents quickly." His hand settled in hers, his left arm still wrapped tightly around her, like he couldn't quite convince his body to let her go. "With Pan weak, we're fairly safe from him," he went on, meeting her eyes. "But the Lost Boys are ruthless."

Emma's fingers tightened over his arm, brows creased, remembering the urgency at hand. Then— "Oh," she said suddenly, releasing his fingers to grab the hilt of his sword. But the moment she pulled her fingers from his, his hand reflexively grabbed her forearm, like it startled him. He swallowed, loosening it a little, but didn't let her go.

The desperation in his reflex stole her breath.

Quickly, Emma unbuckled the belt for his sheath, and handed him the sword.

His brows raised. "My sword?"

Pink touched Emma's cheeks. "Um… yeah, I hope that's okay—"

His eyes rose to hers. "Of course it is, love." he said instantly. A little smile— "I'm happy to know there was a part of me there to protect you."

More heat touched Emma's cheeks. "It did," she said softly, and a warmth colored his eyes.

He took the sword from her, hesitating before releasing his arm around her to secure the belt around his waist.

But Emma felt it this time, the naked vulnerability without his touch, and her hand shot out to catch his arm, like she had the day in the hospital, after he'd laid her down.

He hesitated in his movements for half a second when she did, and Emma felt him relax the smallest bit, knowing he could feel her.

Once his sword was secured, Killian pulled a scabbard from around his torso, and Emma saw a cutlass had been hanging over his back. "Nabbed this from a Lost Boy when I escaped," he said with a grave grin. "Take it, love." He held it to her, and Emma took it, hesitating again before releasing him, quickly slinging it over her torso.

Killian drew his sword. Then, looked from his hook, to the hilt in his hand… to Emma's hand, in a way that made Emma's heart shatter in her chest.

But only a second later, she wrapped her fingers tightly around the curve of his hook, in a way that felt familiar now. He looked from her hand and his hook, to her eyes, rich emotion swimming in his. He hesitated, then said, "Don't let go of me, Emma."

Emma swallowed at the heaviness in his words, and she nodded, her other hand curling around his left elbow, needing no encouragement. She felt him relax a little, and give her a quick little smile, before saying, "Let's go."

Killian canted his head back, eyes on the stars in the sky through the gaps in the branches, and Emma watched him carefully read them like a map. And he gave a sigh, something weary, and looked at her with another smile, like he was reminding himself she was there, and they started ahead.

a/n: back together! :) though it feels like they'd been separated for a long time, for them it was literally less than 24 hours lol. I know, I know. Still way too long. xD

Next chapter has been giving me a lot of trouble, but I hope to have it done and up soon! :) Thanks for reading, hope you guys liked this one!