The house was darker than Killian had ever seen it before as he made his way over the threshold and closed the front door softly behind himself. He followed his instincts to make his way across the large hall and through a doorway he knew would take him to the living room. He assumed that was where he would find Emma, but a small part of his brain chose that moment to remind him just how big the house was. If she wanted to, she could probably spend hours hiding from him. Thankfully, the soft glow of a table lamp told Killian that his instincts had been right, and he came to a stop just inside the entrance of the living room.

"Emma?" he called out softly, because the last thing he wanted to do was startle her.

Killian couldn't see the young woman, but he assumed she was curled up on one of the sofas facing the empty fireplace. Now that he was in the room, he knew she was there. Emma had a very distinct presence, even when she wasn't trying to project one.

"Emma?" he tried again.

When she still didn't answer, Killian made his way further into the room until he could tell which of the sofas she was using.

"What are you doing here, Emma?" he sighed wearily. "This place isn't safe for you anymore. You should have stayed with David and the team at the hotel."

"Why?" she finally asked, her tone completely flat and emotionless. "If he can get past agents and into my house, your hotel won't keep him out. Might as well make things easier on him. This way, he won't have to kill any more people I care about to get to me."

Killian blew out an exasperated breath as he made his way around the room to take a seat on one of the free sofas. He was close enough to Emma for them to have a conversation but not close enough for her to feel smothered.

"The FBI can protect you, Emma. He's not going to get to you. They won't let him."

Emma said nothing else. She wouldn't even look his way, so Killian couldn't tell if his words had any effect on her. He could, however, see the three empty bottles of vodka on the table beside her.

"That won't help," he said, nodding his head in their direction. "If anything, it'll just make things worse."

Emma remained silent, but Killian saw the way her hand tightened on the arm of the chair, so he knew she was listening.

"It'll ruin your life, Emma. Take it from someone who's been there before. Once you start down this path, it's hard to get off. And that's the last thing you want right now."

"You don't know what I want!" she snapped out, and Killian smiled a little at her anger. Anger was good. It was a passionate emotion - the complete opposite of the deadness her tone had carried before.

"I know you don't want this!" he countered. "When you become that person, you're always that person. There's no after when it comes to addiction, Emma. You will constantly be fighting that call for the rest of your life, and one slip – one tiny little slip – could cost you everything."

"I've already lost everything."

That cold, emotionless tone was back again, and Killian hated it.

"No, you haven't!" he said, because it was a simple truth. "You still have your career. You still have the support of your fans. You still have a good team of people around you who care for you, Emma. It might not feel like much right now, but trust me, that is so much more than most people have."

He gave her a moment to see if she would speak up, and when she didn't, Killian continued.

"I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but your life is rich in so many ways. Don't let a bottle of vodka take that from you; don't let him take everything. You need to fight for yourself, Emma. If you're going to survive this, you need to fight through this. We can't do that for you."

"You can't do anything for me," she snapped out, finally turning to look his way.

Killian hated what he saw when she did. Emma looked beaten and defeated in a way he'd never seen her look before. In the short time since he'd been gone, she'd lost weight. The alcohol in her system made her skin look sallow and dry. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her lips were cracked. She looked nothing like the glossy posters he'd taken off Ellie's walls earlier that day, and yet, she was still the most beautiful person he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting.

"No, I can't," he agreed. "I fucked up, and now I'm paying the consequences for that – but you shouldn't have to, Emma. David is a good man. He will take care of you. He will do all he can to make sure this guy is caught, and he will do absolutely everything in his power to make sure that you stay safe. You just need to let him."

Emma snorted out a deranged laugh, and the sound of it chilled Killian to his very core. "Yeah, let him take care of me while the people I care about are killed instead? While people I don't even know are killed for me? That sounds like a wonderful plan. I'd rather just let this guy take his shot at me. At least then, nobody else has to die in my name."

"No, just you!" Killian found himself yelling. "Do you really think that's a better alternative?"

"I don't know, Agent Jones!" she yelled back. "I've never been the target of some murderous psychopath before. I don't know what I'm supposed to do right now. I don't know how I'm supposed to act or feel! All I know is that I can't let anyone else die in my name. It's not worth that… I… I'm not worth that," she added in a whisper.

Killian sighed heavily as he pushed himself to his feet and relocated to the far end of the sofa she was sitting on. He wanted to reach for her hand. He wanted to offer her some sort of physical comfort while she was breaking apart in front of him – but he knew that after what had happened at the hotel, it wouldn't be the wisest idea.

"You are worth far more than you know, Emma Swan."

"Am I?" She turned to look at him, and Killian could see the tears falling from her eyes. "I don't have any friends, Agent Jones. I don't have anyone close to me to share secrets with. And while I know a large part of that is my fault – I push people away, I keep them at arm's length – I also know that if anyone cared enough, they'd fight to get in. They'd make me let them in. They'd fight to be my friend, and nobody ever has. My parents didn't want me. They didn't even leave me somewhere safe when they abandoned me, so clearly they didn't care. Every guy I've ever dated has never really cared about me. All they cared about was what I could do for them. And you – you didn't even care enough to try and stay in my life."

Killian opened his mouth to protest, but Emma simply lifted a hand to dash away her tears before she carried on speaking.

"These people that are dying – they have people in their lives who genuinely care about them. They have people in their lives who love them and miss them, and now those people are suffering too – all because of me! So why not end this now? Why not let him have me, Agent Jones? Because nobody will really care when I'm gone. Not the way that all these other people care about those women who have been murdered because of me. Not the way that Ariel's family cared about her."

Killian didn't even stop to think before he shifted across the sofa. Emma tried to fight when he reached for her right hand, but she gave up pretty easily, and he kept it held tightly in his own as he told her, "I care, Emma! I care enough that I risked my career to tell my supervisor what happened between us. I care about making sure this maniac goes to jail where he belongs instead of walking free - just because I kept a secret. I care about how happy your music makes my niece. I care about seeing you happy and performing again because it will make so many people around the world happy to see that too. You might not have people close to you to show you how much they care, but believe me when I say you have a whole family of people around the world that care about you, Emma. We care!"

Emma still looked a little hesitant, so Killian scooted the rest of the way across the sofa to fold her into his arms, holding her close as she sobbed into his chest. He didn't try to shush her or stop her tears. Instead, he simply held her close and whispered words of comfort as she cried.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before her tears finally stopped, but Killian didn't move to pull away. Emma was still curled into his chest, her hand fisted in his t-shirt as his own moved gently over her hair, helping to soothe her fears. He knew he should leave soon. He should clean up the mess in the living room, get rid of the last of the vodka, and then go – but Killian couldn't seem to find the will to move. Emma finally had the kind of peace and comfort she needed at a time like this, and the last thing he wanted to do was take that from her.

"Stay with me," she eventually whispered, sometime later that evening. Her voice was hoarse - as broken sounding as she looked. "Stay with me, Killian. I need… I just need someone who cares."

"I shouldn't," he protested weakly. "I'll lose my job if anyone catches me here."

"I can get you another." Emma relaxed her grip on his shirt in favor of smoothing her hand over the fabric, chasing out the creases. "I know people who would pay good money to have a former FBI agent on their security team. Just… stay! Please!"

Killian sat in silence for a long moment. He didn't want to lose his job; private security didn't hold the same kind of appeal that a job at the bureau held. But he also didn't want to leave Emma alone to face what could be coming for her - especially in a house he knew her stalker had access to.

"Okay," he finally whispered, and they both knew his surrender would change everything.

Emma pulled back to meet his eyes. Killian wasn't sure what she was searching for in them, but he knew the moment she found it. That emotionless, broken, haunted shadow disappeared instantly to be replaced with something that almost looked hopeful. Before he could question it, Emma leaned in to press her lips to his own.

Killian let her kiss him. When she pulled back to hold his gaze once again, he said, "We shouldn't," but the words were empty. He was done fighting whatever this was – and she knew it.

"I don't care."

Killian continued staring into her soft green eyes for a moment longer before he nodded his head in agreement and then leaned forward to kiss her again.

There was something different about the way they moved this time. Something softer and more tender in the way they touched each other, taking their time to trade lazy kisses as their hands relearned the lines of each other's bodies. This wasn't some quick fuck to reassure each other that everything would be okay. It wasn't a way for them to bury their emotions for just a moment so they could escape the pain and sorrow that had been haunting them. This was something more – something deeper – and that knowledge alone terrified Killian.

Emma's hands slid down the center of his chest, her fingertips pressing firmly into the ridges and dips she found there, before they trailed back up again to push his jacket from his shoulders.

Killian expected her to reach for the hem of his t-shirt next, but Emma simply pulled him in closer to kiss him a little more. It wasn't until he found his own hands slipping under the soft cotton of her sweatshirt that she took action to remove his shirt. Killian sat back far enough to allow her to slowly pull the garment up his body and over his head, before he reached out to do the same. While he dropped her sweatshirt to the floor at their feet, Emma peeled her tank top off, leaving her gloriously naked from the waist up.

"My God, you're so beautiful," Killian whispered, reaching for one of her hands.

Emma linked their fingers together and gave him a gentle tug to pull him in a little closer.

He expected her to kiss him again. To maybe become a little more frenzied and passionate as she did. But to his surprise, Emma simply dropped her forehead down to rest against his shoulder, then whispered, "So are you."

As terribly cliched as it sounded, Killian had never felt more beautiful in his life. The soft brush of her fingertips and the barest hint of her kisses over his chest made him feel cherished in a way he'd never experienced before. It was a heady, dizzying sensation that both thrilled and terrified him in equal measures.

Emma pulled back just far enough to tilt her head up and meet his gaze. Killian couldn't read the emotion behind her eyes. It was something he'd never seen there before, and instead of reflecting upon it for too long, he simply reached out to push the hair from her face and then dropped his lips back down to hers.

Killian slid his fingers down Emma's side and around to rest on her lower back, pulling her closer as he leaned into the softness of the couch. Somehow, her body seemed to fit perfectly against his own, even in the confined space they had to work with.

Her lithe hands slipped between their writhing bodies, finding Killian's belt buckle with ease before she made quick work of unfastening it. He stretched his own down as far as they would go, pushing her yoga pants down her thighs until he could reach no further. Killian then glided his fingertips back up her bare legs to tease at the cotton band around her waist.

Emma's breathing was coming a little harder now. Her hips were moving a little faster. When she began pulling at the denim covering his legs, Killian pushed his hips up as far as he could to allow her to tug the fabric down, and he found himself brushing against her in the process.

"Yes," she gasped into his mouth, and Killian smothered the noise with his kisses.

Somehow, they managed to kick off their pants without dislodging each other. Killian wasn't entirely sure how it happened, but he presumed some sort of magic must have been involved. Even though they were both only wearing their underwear, he was in absolutely no hurry to move things further along, and Emma seemed to feel the same way if her lazy caresses and the gentle roll of her hips were anything to judge by.

It was only when her breathy little moans morphed into gasps that he finally slipped his hand under the cotton of her panties. Killian used the same lazy, long strokes he'd been using all over her body to draw his fingers through the wetness gathering between her thighs, and she finally broke away from his lips to pant heavily into his neck.

No words were spoken as he slowly brought her to the edge. No words needed to be spoken. They might have only done this once before, but every move he made felt familiar and comfortable.

Unlike most of the men Emma had been with in the past, Killian moved with her body, following its twitches and jerks to make sure his attention was always focused exactly where she needed it most, even if it wasn't quite as much as she wanted. Emma felt like she was flying, and she never wanted to come down.

Killian held her tightly against his chest as he gradually brought her to that place where she was whining and bucking against him, before he finally let her come apart in his arms. Unlike the last time they'd been together, there was no cursing or screaming. Instead, Emma simply breathed his name into his ear before she collapsed onto his chest, a sweaty, panting, beautiful mess. Killian held her close, stroking a tender hand over her hair as she floated back to earth.

When that buzz of pleasure under her skin had faded to a hum, Emma stretched herself out to press her lips to Killian's neck and along his jaw. She smiled to herself – the first genuine smile she'd made in days – as he tilted his head back to give her more room to work with. While Emma's lips made their way along his collarbone, she snaked her hand between them again to push the damp cotton of her panties down her legs, then shimmied them the rest of the way off.

Killian's hips were beginning to move under her once again, pushing up into the heat of her body as he searched for the kind of pleasure he'd just given to her. Emma pushed herself up onto her forearms to give them both a little room and then reached down to free him from his briefs.

He was hot and heavy in her hand. His hips were still moving, pushing himself into her grip, and Emma made sure to tighten it just a little – enough to give him a hint of the pleasure he was searching for, but not enough to deprive them both of what they needed most.

She pulled back to meet his gaze, and the emotion Emma saw filling his eyes almost took her breath away. It was the stuff she often sang about to packed arenas or on stadium tours, but wasn't something she had ever felt directed her way before. Swallowing hard, Emma leaned in for another long, sweet kiss as she positioned him at her entrance and then slowly rocked her hips back.

"Emma," he sighed against her lips, and she kissed him again. She didn't have the words to tell him how she felt. It wasn't something she had stopped to think about, and Emma wasn't sure she ever wanted to. After all, he couldn't hurt her again if she refused to let him in.

Instead of dwelling upon the mess of emotions overwhelming her heart, Emma rolled her hips into his own, making them both gasp at the feelings it ignited inside of them.

Killian slid one of his hands down her back to settle just above her ass as he used the other to push her hair away from her face, tangling his fingers in the long stands while he cradled her head in his hand. Emma kept one of her own close to his neck, playing with the slightly longer hair there while her other was braced against his chest, helping her find a rhythm.

She wasn't sure how long they spent together that evening, totally engrossed in each other's bodies. Time seemed to be passing simultaneously too fast and too slowly. All she knew was that when she finally fell once again, Killian was there to catch her, gently easing her through the moment before he allowed himself to follow.

Emma's eyes fluttered shut as she tucked herself in between his long, lithe body and the back of the couch. She knew she should get up and clean up. She knew she should probably grab a blanket too. But she couldn't seem to bring herself to move, and Killian appeared to be in no hurry either.

Emma could feel herself drifting in that wonderful place somewhere between awake and asleep. The place where reality couldn't hurt you, and neither could your dreams. Killian's hand was still running softly over her hair, his lips occasionally brushing against her forehead.

"Stay with me," she said, her voice barely a whisper in the darkness of the night.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, and somewhere, deep down, Emma knew that everything between them had changed.

As the two young lovers traded lazy kisses and drifted to sleep held tightly in each other's arms, the soundproofed windows of Emma's home muffled the snap of a twig in her backyard. They had been so caught up in each other's bodies all night neither one of them had noticed the strange way the shadows had been moving outside the living room windows.

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