Killian was freezing.

He's been freezing for what felt like hours, though it mostly likely has been just over one, two at the most.

He would die giving Emma his jacket any day, but he had to admit, when she'd taken it off to share it between the two of them, he was beyond grateful. The cold had begun to get to a point that was truly beginning to scare him. But with the shared warmth from Emma's own heat and his jacket, it had chased away some of the haze that had fogged his mind.

He was too afraid to admit to her just how close to passing out he'd been when she'd finally woken.

A fact that he was still grateful for.

He couldn't quite put into words the relief he felt when she'd woken.

Emma seemed to be handling the cold much better than him, no doubt due to having been wrapped in his jacket for so long, sharing his heat and the fact that she wasn't the one sitting on pure ice.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

But that pull to sleep has returned, that exhaustion that felt like a damn Neverland siren threatening to pull him under murky depths.

He blinked slow, trying to keep himself aware.

His shivering had died down a bit, which he knew wasn't a good sign.

He wouldn't last much longer like this.

Killian shut his eyes.

Please let the prince at least save Emma in time.

"Killian?!"

Killian opened his eyes, trying not to dwell on how much effort it took. Attempting to shake the fog from his mind, he looked down to see Emma's eyes on his, naked fear in the bright green. She visibly relaxed when she saw him open his eyes.

The amount of fear she had surrounding his well being was startling.

"You okay?" whispered Emma, eyes searching his, that uneasiness in hers only building.

She was bloody terrified.

For him.

"I'd go to the ends of the world for her. Or time."

"And she for you?"

Something shining in her eyes now gave him the sure answer to the question that has nagged in the back of his mind ever since the prince asked it.

Bloody finally, she actually wanted him.

He couldn't quit now.

He couldn't die now.

So, he blinked a few times, attempting to clear the haze from his mind, to cling onto awareness. His rush of fear and determination came in the form of a sluggish spark of adrenaline, and he felt the tiredness pushed away a bit.

It wasn't gone, and would only get worse in time.

But Emma just lost one love, only weeks ago.

He would not allow her heart to break again.

He was a survivor, damn it.

"Aye," he said, forcing himself to give her a little grin. However, her superpower had not been dimmed due to the frigid temperature, and she seemed to read between the lines, knowing he was trying, but saw the lie for what it was. He was very slowly slipping away, and Emma knew it as well as he did. But she accepted his response, seeming to settle herself with the fact that he was here, he was aware, at least for now. She let out a little breath, laying her head back on his chest.

He hugged her tightly, wondering why the bloody hell they couldn't have done this before.

He reveled in holding her so close, resting his head over her hair.

"You're still awake, right?" she mumbled into his chest, shivering in his arms.

He smiled a little, still surprised at how worried she was about him. Of course it would take an ice wall entrapping them to lower Emma's. "Yes, love," he said gently. "I'm right here."

"Good," she said firmly. "Stay that way."

He chuckled a little at the petulant way she said it, his beautifully stubborn, tough lass. But he held her tighter, an attempt to show her he was more than just awake, that he was here. "Aye, aye, Captain," he whispered.

"I'm not kidding, Killian," she said, her voice nearing the edge of panic, and Killian was shocked to realize he underestimated how scared she was. "If you fall asleep—"

"I understand," he said seriously, and Emma tilted her head to look at him, those free emotions coloring her eyes, no walls for them to hide behind. "I'm awake. I'm here, Emma."

Emma still looked worried, but she nodded a little, the movement barely noticeable in the shivers that wracked her.

"Tell me something."

Killian lifted his head, the act taking most of his current strength. "Tell you… what, love?"

"Something," she repeated. "A story. Anything. I don't care."

She wanted to keep him talking.

He'd have to remember this for the next time she told him to shut up.

The realization that next time was still a heavy if had his heart beating a little faster.

Killian was quiet for a moment.

They hadn't had any real talks—talks about their lives before each other, their histories, their beginnings—before.

It killed him that the first time they did was in a situation such as this.

Not for the first time, he cursed every wretched soul that hurt Emma in the past, forcing her to be so afraid of opening up.

Not sure he'll ever get an opportunity like this again, he hesitated, then said, "May I ask you something?"

He felt her tense a little in his arms, like a few of her walls attempted to build back up.

Bloody hell, he wished he could live to see the day she could freely be herself without all this fear.

"Um," she said hesitantly. Then, seeming to realize he'll be even more motivated to stay awake to listen to her answer, she sighed. "Fine. What?"

He chuckled softly.

Killian has spent most of his time with Emma trying to quietly piece together her history, the life she led before he came into it, before Storybrooke. All he knew of her, however, was the heartbreakingly convoluted story of her parents abandoning her, that Emma had grown up in what she'd coined foster care homes, which Killian wasn't quite clear on the concept, but knew it was some sort of adoptive or temporary family for orphans. Then, she had some sort of bails-person occupation, which, again, Killian was quite ignorant of.

"May I know something of your past?" he asked gently. When Emma didn't say anything, he took it as invitation to continue. "You mentioned you were in many of these… foster homes," he said. "But you never… ended up with one you liked?"

Emma fidgeted a little, a movement Killian could barely discern from her trembling.

Her silence was enough answer.

"Love," he said gently, chest tightening with the wonder if he actually wanted the answer to his question. "Were you alone all that time?"

Emma swallowed a little. After a long moment, she finally said, "None of them… I didn't find paren—people who…" She hesitated. "I ran away from it all when I was fifteen." His heart broke a little, and he tightened his arms around her. "I… stole to survive," she admitted with a wince. "Got pretty good at it, too."

That lifted his brow.

"You're gonna m-make a pirate comment, aren't you?"

He smiled faintly, though her story was far too heartbreaking for him to find amusement in the joke. "Can you fault me for thinking it?"

But it made her smile too, for a moment, before it faded. Her cold fingers fidgeted in his. "But… I mean, I met N-Neal when I was sixteen," she said softly, and Killian felt himself tense the smallest bit, as he always did at the mention of Baelfire. "We weren't even together for more than six months." Her thumb brushed over Killian's hand. He could hardly feel it anymore. "After he… left…" Her eyes shut, and Killian felt himself hold her even tighter, though he lacked the feeling and the strength to do so properly. "Yeah. It was just me."

Killian felt his chest ache.

All that time.

From childhood through her whole life, with only glimpses of love.

Love that ultimately used and left her.

Even he had at least grown up with a brother who loved him, and then he found Milah. And neither of them left him by choice.

Killian couldn't imagine what it would be like to live a life as alone as Emma had been.

Emma cleared her throat suddenly, stealing his chance to say something, anything, and she quickly diverted the topic. "My turn."

He tore himself from his thoughts, blinking a few times, trying to fight the pressing exhaustion. As much as he wanted to know more, it was the most he'd gotten from her at once before.

It was a start.

He just desperately hoped he'd have the chance to learn more.

And be the one person in her life who will never leave her.

"As you wish," he said softly. "Is there anything you… you'd like to know?"

She was quiet for a moment, as if she was taking the time to consider.

Then, "What was Liam like?"

It was strange hearing his brother's name through her voice.

The shock of it sprung a little more awareness into him, and he was quietly impressed with Emma's tactic to keep him awake.

He hadn't spoken much about Liam to her, or any of the group. Just in Neverland when they had been concerned about David's health with regard to the Dreamshade, and not too long ago, when he and Emma had thought Snow was gone.

"He was a stubborn arse," mused Killian with the sting of old heartbreak and tainted nostalgia.

"Just like you, huh?" joked Emma through chattering teeth.

He smiled. "Worse."

"Damn."

That made him laugh. "He'd have liked you, love. I'm sure of it." Killian felt his throat close a little, and it had nothing to do with the cold. "Liam… was an extraordinary man. A hero." said Killian quietly.

Emma was quiet for a moment, her fingers brushing over his where they were still clasped in her hand. "He'd be really proud of you if he could see you, Killian."

It still shocked him how much of an open book he seemed to be to her as well.

Killian let out a breath that held far more than air. That had been a question that has haunted him for decades. He could only hope that Liam would be proud of the man he'd become. Killian already knew what his brother's opinion would be of everything Killian had done as Hook.

Emma's thumb brushed over the back of his hand; he could barely feel it through the numbness of his skin. "You know," she said softly, "I think about it, sometimes. That I grew up with this… this idea of Captain Hook from the stories and the legends," she said quietly. "They got you really wrong."

Killian's brows furrowed, thinking not for the first time that he really needed to see this version of himself that Emma had grown up knowing.

"I mean," said Emma, "you're supposed to be this ruthless pirate who doesn't care about anyone but himself." Killian felt himself tense at that, for that was far too true for comfort, and Emma's thumb stilled on his hand, feeling his reaction. Emma tilted her head, looking him in the eye. "But even in your… Hook days," she said, "everything you did, you did for someone you cared about. You became a pirate for Liam, you chased after Gold for Milah…" And a smile touched her lips, something that was so innocently her. Killian has never seen a smile like that on her before. "And you keep following me around everywhere, saving me over and over when I don't even deserve it." Before Killian could contest that, she went on, "I never told you before." She looked at him. "I'm lucky to have you. And so were they."

Killian blinked, speechless.

But it was in her eyes—she meant every word.

The cold may have loosened her walls, but it didn't fabricate those words. Those… feelings.

"And no matter what you did, you aren't that man anymore. Whether you believe it or not, you're a hero, Killian." said Emma, laying her head back against his chest, her words shivering with cold but still as firm as the truth in them. "So, Liam would be proud of you. And you should be, too." Even more quietly, she said, "I am."

He smiled.

He couldn't exactly see it that way himself, but the fact that she did warmed him in a way his jacket or a fire never could.

"I believe," he whispered into her hair, blinking heavy but forcing himself to fight it, to stay, for her, and smiled, finishing, "that it is my turn, love."

He could have sworn he saw her smile.