The water cascaded down over his head, stinging his eyes and burning his scalp. He'd turned the dial to the hottest setting, ignoring the way his shoulders tensed against the heat. His chest hurt, his fingers and toes still tingled, but the bathroom was the only place he could think to escape his brother and his… Emma. He'd come in here intent only on splashing some water on his face and trying to reclaim some of his dignity after waking up after a nightmare to a full panic because Emma wasn't in bed beside him.

God, he should have been stron-

Stop it, Jones, the voice in his head - that sounded suspiciously like the woman waiting for him in the other room - chided. You're safe here, it's okay to fall apart.

He'd scoffed at the voice, pictured the unimpressed glare Emma would have graced him with, and nearly fell apart all over again.

That was how he'd ended up in the shower, braced against the tiles with shaking hands and ignoring the fact that the water from the pipe probably wasn't what was stinging his eyes as they were clenched tightly shut.

Shut up, Swan, he thought in some combination of exasperated and fond that probably explained his whole relationship with her.

He needed her. Nearly as much as he needed his brother and that terrified him.

But that wasn't responsible for the tears tracking down his cheeks.

God, he thought, trying not to let the memories of the past few weeks drown him again.

Meeting Emma.

Michael.
Remembering John.
Meeting Michael.
Michael Darling.

John Darling.
He'd saved John's little brother.

He'd surrendered himself to Gold.
He'd… he'd been tortured by Gold and his minions.

Liam and Emma had saved him.
Liam and Emma were safe from Gold.

He was safe from Gold.

Michael and Wendy were safe from Gold.

He was safe.

Killian shuddered, clenching his fists tighter and resisting the urge to pound all of… this out on the tiles that were currently holding him up. If there was one thing that would have his brother and… and Emma kicking down the bathroom door, it would be mysterious thumps coming from the room he'd holed up in.

"Killian?" Emma's voice echoed softly around the walls.

He looked stupidly at his hands for a moment. They were still fisted against the wall, but hadn't punched anything.

"You've been in here awhile. Are you okay?"

Killian grimaced. She sounded worried. He could only imagine how agitatedly Liam was pacing somewhere. "Fine, luv," he bit out.

Silence.

Killian risked a look through the frosted glass door and saw the barest hint of the crown of Swan's head.

"Are you sure?"

He tried to choke back the sob. He tried. But it came out as something between a choke and a gasp and he had nothing left. No defenses and no armor and no walls. Everything had already crumbled and left him behind, shaking and vulnerable in the rapidly cooling water.

And then Emma was there, in between him and the tiles and she was hugging him, her bare arms wrapped tightly around his back.

The clasp of her bra dug into his forearm when he finally let go of the wall and let her support him, hugging her back just as hard. If not harder.

Thoughts flooded Killian's mind, tugging him back from the past. But it wasn't the time for that. Not here, not now.

Not yet.

Right now, Killian needed to build himself back up, to put what had happened and the boys he'd been changed by back into their boxes. With Emma here, holding steady for him, he could do that.

The water had long gone cold by the time he was able to lift his head from her shoulders. Emma was smiling softly at him, a siren come to lure him not to his demise but to his strength as she stood under the falling water in her bra and jeans.

He laughed quietly.

"Going to raid my drawers, are you, Swan?" he asked, a little in jest and mostly a veiled attempt to see if she were going to stay.

She shrugged. "Don't have to. Those sweatpants I borrowed that first night are mine now."

He remembered that first night - her holding his photo on her phone hostage to guarantee he'd take her after Michael, dressed in his clothes and already drawing him to her - and realized it had only been several weeks since that night.

It felt like forever.

Reaching behind her to finally turn off the tap, Killian brushed his lips over her forehead. "Thank you," he whispered fervently.

Emma leaned forward so her nose brushed his chest. "I've got you, Jones."

She did.

In so many ways.

He wrapped a towel around her shoulders before finding one for himself. "Ready, luv?"

When Emma nodded, Killian opened the door.

To find his brother leaning against the opposite wall, playing with his phone as if he weren't waiting there just for Killian.

Killian found he didn't mind.

"Back to bed with you, little brother. It's past your bedtime," Liam commanded, a little bit of a smug smirk crossing his features.

Killian's ears burned a deep shade of crimson. He was going to smother his brother with a pillow. He was going to-

"Come on, Killian," Emma soothed. "Should we both go to bed?"

Well. What was he supposed to do when she asked like that?

He smirked smugly at Liam, who was trying his best not to turn red.

Blushing, it seemed, was a family trait.