Killian took a long swig from his flask.

I have a secret for you too Emma. I'm never gonna stop fighting for you. Never.

Killian closed his eyes, grimacing. He shouldn't have eavesdropped on Bae's private conversation with Swan; he knew that, but this island...it was a constant battle against his worst, least noble instincts. He should never have come back here. He should have left the heroes to their own devices. He should have kept sailing away until he was rid of them for good.

No.

Everything within him rebelled at the thought. If there's one thing their trip to this gods forsaken island had proven to be it was revealing. He'd spoken truth within Echo Cave. The single kiss he'd shared with Emma had been earth-shattering, life-altering. He supposed the pain of losing Milah would never dissipate completely, but he'd moved on. He'd fallen in love again, and this love had the potential to be magical, transformative.

It mattered not how much of a hellhole this bloody island was. He'd come back here a thousand times over if it was what Emma needed of him.

Bloody hell.

The guilt and self-recrimination rose up swift and sure. Baelfire had so many things for which to blame him. How could he possibly pursue the woman he'd fallen in love with when Bae was vying for her heart as well? Did he not owe the lad-not such a lad anymore-the courtesy of stepping back, letting Bae and Emma attempt to mend their broken relationship?

No!

He'd heard all of their conversation outside of the cave. He knew Swan was at best conflicted. Her secret had been that she'd hoped he was dead? Not exactly the start of a love story for the ages, was it?

Killian took another swig. He wanted Emma, loved her, but it wasn't a choice he either could or would make for her. Though it pained him, he had no choice. He must give her space to make her own decisions regarding her future.

Perhaps if he hadn't squandered centuries as a villain he'd have a more optimistic view of his chances with her.

Emma felt off kilter. She remembered one of her foster families took her to the playground once, and she rode the merry-go-round. When she stepped off, she felt so dizzy that for a moment, she thought she'd fall over.

This felt like that.

It was all too much to process, way too much to process. The emotional toll of this island, the revelations, the surprises, the constant danger, the fear that she wasn't good enough, had never been good enough, it was kind of a miracle she hadn't gone completely off the deep end.

"Hey, Ems, can we talk?" Neal took a seat on the log beside her, and her heart rate picked up.

Not in a good way.

Why was he pushing this? Why couldn't he just give her a little space to process everything that had happened?

I'll never stop fighting for you. When had Neal ever started fighting for her? The fact that he refused to fight for her all those years ago is the reason she gave birth chained to a bed in a hospital infirmary, too broken to even look at her newborn son. The fact that he refused to fight for her is a big part of the reason she had such a thick, fortified wall around her heart.

Neal seemed to think they could just...pick up and start over, but it wasn't that simple. Some wounds were just too deep. She could forgive him, and she did, but things would never be the same again. Why couldn't he see that?

Emma glanced around their campsite, looking for Hook. Things had gotten crazy complicated when it came to him too, but there was something about him. Somehow in the six short days of this horrible adventure, she'd come to trust him, to confide in him. They understood each other; always had.

He was her friend, if nothing else (and she honestly had no idea right now if she wanted there to be anything else), and she desperately needed someone to talk to.

Someone who wasn't Neal.

Unfortunately, Hook seemed to be nowhere to be found. Figures. That was her luck. All week long, it felt like he'd never been more than five feet away from her, and then the one time she really wanted him, he was-well, who knows where he was?

"Neal," she said, trying her best to keep the frustration out of her voice, "I just...I need to go get some more firewood." One day she'd have to have this conversation with Neal. One day they'd have to talk about everything, if only to help her move on for good, but now was not that time. Now, she just needed to get away.

She got quickly to her feet, and just as quickly he followed. "I'll come with you; help you carry it."

"No!" she said, more forcefully than she'd intended. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment to gather her composer. Finally she looked back at him. "Look, I just need a moment, okay?"

He looked like he wanted to argue but thankfully he stepped back instead. "Okay, but if you need something yell."

"Yeah, okay."

Emma stepped into the forest and kept walking until she found what-or rather who-she refused to admit she was looking for.

Hook sat on a fallen log, looking out to the sea, his trusty flask in hand. She sat beside him, and he wordlessly offered her his rum. Taking a sip, she replaced the stopper and handed it back.

"Quite a day, wasn't it?" she said finally.

He chuckled humorlessly. "That's one way to put it. Every day on this island...bloody fantastic."

She nodded, finally looking over at him. "How did you survive it for two hundred years?"

Hook shrugged, taking another sip. "Anger and hatred are powerful motivators."

They fell silent for a moment, both looking out across the waves. Finally she turned back toward him. "What if…" she began, "what if we can't find him? What if we fail?"

It was her deepest, darkest fear. What if she lost her son because she wasn't good enough?

He turned toward her, shaking his head fiercely. "That will never happen love," he said, voice somehow both forceful and soothing. "You will succeed. I've yet to see you fail."

The faith he had in her...it was like a warm cup of cocoa by the fire after a lifetime of being out in the cold. It almost, almost made her believe in herself.

"About what you said in the cave, you know, your secret-" She wasn't sure she was ready to discuss this, any of this, but something inside of her told her she needed to, that they needed to have this conversation before anything else happened to throw them off track again.

Hook looked away, scratching at that spot behind his ear again. Was he nervous?

"You needn't say anything, Swan," he said softly, sadly. "I know the return of Bae changes everything. I...I won't complicate matters for you."

She turned him to look at her. "I appreciate that, but that wasn't what I was going to say."

"Aye?"

"Aye," she said, imitating him. "I just wondered...did you mean it?"

His eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "Of course, love. The secret wouldn't have worked if I'd spoken falsely."

"Okay," she said, nodding slightly, "but...why? I'm a mess, spent most of my life as a screw up, figured that was why everybody eventually leaves me."

She'd never said that out loud before, never told another living soul that deep in her heart she felt like it was somehow her own fault that eventually everyone walked away.

Hook set his flask on the sand, and then cupped her face in his hand, turning her to look fully at him. "Swan, that's utter nonsense," he said firmly. "Everyone who left you, who abandoned you, they're fools. Anyone with eyes could see what an extraordinary woman you are. You aren't a mess; you're a survivor and a fighter, and your lad could wish for no better advocate. I couldn't ask for any better...savior."

That warm, fuzzy, cocoa-by-the-fire feeling intensified, and for a moment she almost lost her head and did something stupid like kiss him again. Instead, she took a deep breath. There was one more thing she owed him.

"Back in the cave, you know, after your secret," she began, "I got interrupted by my parents' secrets, but I wanted to say…"

He waited a second, before nodding at her. "Aye? You wanted to say?"

She blew out a deep breath. "Honestly? I don't know exactly what I was going to say. Just...I really, really appreciate it."

How lame was that? A guy essentially tells her he loves her and her response is "I appreciate it."

"I'm not…" this was hard, really hard. How did she find the words to express her feelings? "I'm not ready for, well, anything, but I guess I just wanted you to know that your feelings aren't totally one-sided. Everything's...complicated, and now there's Neal, which I don't even know how to feel about, and of course saving Henry, and this is freaking Neverland, and...I don't even know what I'm saying right now, but-I just wanted you to know that, I mean, that kiss meant something to both of us."

His smile turned even more tender, and his thumb caressed her face. "Well then," he said, "let's get your lad and go home, and then...well that's when the fun can begin."

He waggled his eyebrows at her in the most outrageous and exaggerated manner and she couldn't help but laugh as she got to her feet and then reached down to help him up as well.

For the first time all week she let herself hope, let herself believe. Maybe they would get Henry back. Maybe they would make it back to Storybrooke.

And that fun Hook mentioned? If the thought of it made her heart start to race, well that could be her little secret.