Emma was hot.

She woke slowly, realizing quickly that it was sweltering.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, but from the moonlight shining in through the window, she could just make out her bedroom in the loft. It seemed like it was the middle of the night.

She also realized that she was piled underneath a mountain of blankets.

It took another moment to remember why, and when she did, she felt her chest tighten.

Killian.

Sudden panic woke her even more.

The memories from last night were hazy, and she could barely remember more than it being horribly freezing. But she remembered Killian protecting her, giving her his jacket—like the stupid gentleman he was—and… and…

She could hardly even relive the memory of being unable to wake him.

But she remembered flashes of David holding her, telling her that Killian was alive, an ambulance—Whale?—someone saying that Killian would be okay, that they found them in time. Other flashes, even hazier ones that felt like nothing more than a dream of her sitting in the living room next to David, of her watching Killian sleep on the couch.

The panic still didn't leave her, because as much as she knew everyone told her he would be okay, she didn't remember him waking up, and she needed to know for sure.

Glad she was no longer shivering, and that she'd warmed up to a point where she felt overheated, Emma threw off her blankets.

She was dizzy getting to her feet, stumbling a little. Luckily she wasn't numb, or even cold, anymore, but she felt stiff all over. She was also wearing pajamas, which she didn't remember changing into. But they were her favorites, and the only person who knew that was her mother, and it made Emma smile.

Feeling herself shiver a little now that she was out of the warmth of her bed, Emma grabbed one of the smaller blankets, pulling it around her shoulders.

She could see through the darkness that someone was laying on Henry's bed, but it wasn't Henry; it was the woman who'd made—and melted—the ice wall.

Emma felt her heart pick up a little at the sight of her, not quite sure if she was friend or foe at this point, but if her parents offered hospitality, then there was something going on she didn't know about.

But that could wait until after she knew Killian was okay.

Emma held tight to the railing of the stairs as she descended them, her legs much weaker than normal. Her shivering was certainly picking up now that she was outside of bed, but she didn't care.

She needed to see him.

Safely making it to the first floor, Emma looked over, seeing her parents asleep in their bed.

Emma turned her head, toward the couch.

She felt herself smile.

Killian.

He was there, right where her fuzzy memory told her he would be, and he was also piled under a mountain of blankets. The heater was still running a few feet away from him.

Knowing her parents looked after him—especially David, whom Emma knew he had a complicated relationship—warmed her heart.

Walking on slightly-unsteady legs, Emma made her way over to the couch, the whole area feeling like a sauna with the heater.

His eyes were shut; he was sleeping.

Or… more likely, still unconscious.

Her smile faltered as she noticed that he was still trembling with minute shivers. They were small, barely noticeable in the dark, but they were there nonetheless.

Emma hadn't been shivering at all when she'd woken in bed.

She also hadn't been nearly as cold as he had gotten last night.

Her heart picked up.

She touched his cheek.

He wasn't as icy cold as he had been, but he wasn't quite warm either.

"Killian?" she whispered, giving his shoulder a little shake, wanting to assure herself that he was all right.

He didn't react to her touch, even when she shook him again, proving that his sleep was more a still unconscious sleep than regular slumber.

She couldn't help flashing back to only hours ago, still trapped in that ice cavern, trying to shake him awake after he'd passed out.

Emma swallowed.

Killian was warming up, and he would probably be as warm as she is now by the morning.

But she couldn't shake the slight panic that had crawled into her chest. He'd been on that ice for hours last night, without his damn jacket. Emma could remember her fear, watching him, feeling him slipping away from her…

She let out a breath.

And slowly, carefully, she moved his blankets, and she laid on the couch beside him.

The couch was just big enough to fit both of them.

The moment she felt his body, even through his clothes, she could feel the cold touch to his skin. Still, it wasn't nearly as icy as before, he would probably be just fine, but…

That wasn't something she wanted to chance.

She learned last night, good and well, that losing him was something she couldn't handle.

That moment last night, the very thought that she had lost him…

It was a feeling colder than the ice cave.

It was something beyond losing Graham, and even Neal.

It was simply impossible to deny that losing Killian would be a break her heart couldn't take.

So, Emma wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling herself flush against him, sharing her heat. She tucked her head between his neck and shoulder, in a place that felt like it was made just for her.

She closed her eyes, breathing him in.

Just twenty-four hours ago, the idea of this, of being this close to him, would have scared her stiff.

But after last night, after she'd thought he was…

Her chest hurt.

She'd seen him like that once before, when Zelena had drowned him.

But it happened so fast, and she was able to bring him back so quickly after that it didn't seem like the terrifying thing it could have been.

This, however…

Emma hugged him tighter, already feeling her own body heat captured beneath the blankets, no doubt spreading to him. She took a moment to revel in being so close to him. She didn't get the chance to enjoy the closeness when they'd been in the ice cave. Right now, without his awareness, it felt safer to let herself enjoy it. It felt safe. He felt safe.

And a little thought, let loose by her exhaustion, whispered that it would only be better if he was awake to enjoy it along with her.

She blinked her eyes sleepily, just looking at him.

It made an involuntary smile slip over her lips.

She touched his cheek, noting that he was already a touch warmer than he was minutes ago.

She smiled, tucking her head back into that spot that was just for her, shutting her eyes. She still felt that worry itching at her, a worry that wouldn't truly go away until he woke up, until she knew for sure that he was going to be all right.

"Don't leave me," she whispered, hugging him tighter, wishing she could feel him hug her back, reassure her that he wouldn't.

He didn't say anything, didn't wake, but she could feel him breathe, feel his heartbeat, however slow it was, and she just hugged him even tighter, closing her eyes, falling asleep to the steady sound of his heart beating against hers.

Killian has never felt more comfortable in his life.

It was so bloody warm.

His mind was a muddled haze, stiffness and muted pain was everywhere, but him being him, that was mostly normal.

Somehow, he managed to crack his eyes open.

He was staring at a ceiling.

The room he was in was also quite dark, suggesting it wasn't even morning yet. The room was lit only by the moon shining in through the window.

He was also lying on something very soft. With confusion, he noted that there were plenty of blankets piled over him, definitely the source of the warmth.

Somehow through his hazy mind, he recognized the room, realizing he was waking up in Emma's home.

He was sleeping on their couch?

Why the bloody hell was he—

Not a moment later, the memories of the night suddenly resurfaced.

The ice wall.

The cold.

Not for the first time, he wondered how the hell he was still alive.

He blurrily remembered Emma clinging to him, remembered her crying, remembered his desperate attempt to stay awake, to not leave her like everyone else did…

Bloody hell.

That was the last thing he remembered.

Emma.

Utter panic shot through him.

He moved to get up, when he realized something.

It wasn't just blankets keeping him warm.

Arms were wrapped tightly around his waist.

He looked down, the moonlight from the window shining in to illuminate—

Emma.

He couldn't help the relieved smile.

She was all right.

Her arms had wrapped around him, and she was tucked snugly into him, her head resting on his shoulder, blond hair splayed over his chest. Her eyes were shut; she was asleep.

And warm.

Tears stung his eyes.

She was alive.

And he didn't leave her.

He wrapped his own arms around her, noting—and grateful for—his lack of his hook, glad he didn't have to worry about it accidentally hurting her. He held her to him, shutting his eyes, an indescribable feeling filling him. Like something suddenly felt complete.

The touch seemed to rouse her.

Emma's eyes fluttered open.

When she saw his face, his eyes open, looking at her, shock filled hers. "Killian!" she breathed.

"Hey, beautiful," he whispered.

Her smile lit up the whole room.

And not a second later, she crushed him in an embrace so tight he couldn't breathe, and his broken ribs killed.

He groaned a little from the pain, and Emma released him instantly. "Oh—I'm—" she began, but he just pulled her back to him, ignoring the pain.

"I don't bloody care," he whispered, letting her hug him back just as tightly (though a bit more mindful of his midsection), even when his ribs disagreed. "Thank the gods you're all right," he breathed, every ounce of his relief in the words.

Emma pulled away and touched his cheek, her own relief mirroring his, smiling even wider. "You're warm."

He chuckled. "Aye." He couldn't quite fathom it, however—waking to Emma, lying in his arms. He brushed his thumb over her cheek. "I'm not dreaming, am I?" he asked, suddenly afraid he was.

She smiled. She still looked drowsy and her walls hadn't returned and for once, he could see her. "I came down to check on you," she said. "You were still shivering. I…" She swallowed. "I wanted to make sure you were… warm enough." She grinned, the expression almost childlike. "Guess it worked."

Something touched filled his chest at the gesture, at her concern. "Thank you, love." He ran his hand over her hair. She shut her eyes, as if to the feeling. It made his heart ache, wishing he could stay here like this forever. But he somehow knew that in the light of day, her walls will be back in place and this Emma will be trapped behind them. He blinked in his own exhausted haze, fighting his tiredness, wanting to hold onto this moment as long as he could. He ran his fingers over her hair again. "I like waking up to you," he whispered.

"Kinda nice, isn't it," she mumbled sleepily into his shoulder.

He smiled, pulling her tighter to him. They simply held each other for a moment, and Killian shut his eyes, never having felt so happy in his life.

"You scared me." whispered Emma over his shoulder, her voice shaking despite the warmth surrounding them both. "Killian, you scared the hell out of me."

"And you me," he said just as quietly, remembering just how terrified he'd been.

"I couldn't wake you up," she said, her voice sounding a little choked. She pulled away from him, and he could see her face, and the lone tear falling down her cheek. "I thought you…"

She didn't have to say it for him to hear it.

A chill ran through him.

He could still remember, blurrily, Emma trying to keep him awake. Crying. Begging.

"Don't leave me."

His chest ached.

He wiped away the tear that fell down her cheek, feeling his own sting his eyes for causing her such pain. "I'm sorry for scaring you, love." he said heavily, meaning it.

"Don't do it again, Killian," she said firmly, her voice wavering. "Giving me your coat—"

"Emma," said Killian heavily. "If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing. I will protect you with my life. No matter the cost."

"I can't lose you too," she whispered, unadulterated fear in every word.

"Don't leave me."

Killian has always known Emma had fears.

But seeing them last night?

Experiencing them?

The way her voice had broken, hearing her cry, hearing her plead…

"Be patient."

He's never felt so horrible for trying to push her before she was ready.

"You won't," promised Killian. "I'm not going anywhere." And then, spoken like the vow it was, promised softly, "I will never leave you." Killian wiped another tear that fell over her cheek, watching the emotions in her eyes. Trust. Hope. And he smiled. "I'm a survivor, love." he said softly.

"You're a lucky bastard," she choked out, and Killian laughed, more out of relief than anything, because those words were plenty true. He pulled her back to his chest, running his hand through her hair. Shutting his eyes, Emma in his arms, he suddenly felt warmer than he's felt in his entire life.

And it had nothing to do with any blankets or body heat.

He watched her fall asleep, her head tucked into his neck and shoulder. He watched her breathe, fighting his own heavy pull to sleep, wanting to simply stay here and watch her forever. Because, he knew, tomorrow, her walls, her armor, will be back in place. This Emma, the one in his arms, sleeping soundly in his embrace, will be hidden away from him once again.

It was a realization that physically hurt him.

So he reveled in it, this quiet moment, holding her the way he's dreamed of for years now. Shutting his eyes to the feel of her, wanting to memorize it, for he didn't know when the next time would come.

But he would be patient.

He would wait for her forever.

But it ached, deep in his chest, knowing how wonderful it felt to hold her, to have her, and to know it will be different in the daylight.

But a smile tilted his lips, because he had her now. He held her now. She was alive, she was all right, and she was sleeping soundly against his chest and he clung onto consciousness as long as he could, intending to enjoy it for all it was worth.

He fell asleep to the sound of her breathing, the reassurance of her heart beating, a smile still tilting his lips.