So, at this point something as simple as hearing a song can prompt Captain Swan thoughts and feels. I am so worried about what the darkness is going to do to Emma before they find her and she can get free of it. I can't help thinking the effects are going to be devastating and long lasting as well. The one comfort I do get out of this is thinking that she will need Killian more than ever and that he is going to be the one to help her heal. I don't know if enjoy is quite the right word for something so angsty, but I do hope you'll all find this engrossing and let me know if you have any comments.

The lyrics at the beginning and end of this story are from "I'll Be" by Reba McEntire.

"I'll Be There to Carry You"

"When darkness falls upon your heart and soul,

I'll be the light that shines for you.

When you forget how beautiful you are,

I'll be there to remind you.

When you can't find your way, I'll find my way to you.

When troubles come around, I will come to you…"

She is running herself ragged. Everyone can see it; at this point the signs are plain as day in the pallor of her once-glowing face, the dull, limp ponytail she constantly pulls her previously shining, silky golden hair into, the worry lines that never quite leave her brow, and the tense stiffness in her shoulders.

They had been so thrilled when Emma returned to them, the darkness within her vanquished, their princess alive and with them once more, their world safe again, that everything not being quite right had escaped notice at first. When Killian started to feel Emma was troubled and holding back, that she seemed pained and uncomfortable in her own skin, he had at first castigated himself for imagining things in his worry.

Now though, as the days and weeks stretch on, he finds he can no longer ignore what is right in front of him. Even if no one has spoken it aloud, Killian can see he is not the only one worried for Emma. The concern and helpless wish to make things right is evident in the way Dave sometimes reaches out a hand to hold Emma back when she rushes to take every single call the station receives or make an extra patrol loop rather than sit still for a single second or be forced to talk. The Prince's hand will pause in midair, and then before making contact with his daughter's arm, fall uselessly back to his side. His mouth presses into a thin, worried line to hold in the words he aches to offer her as he watches her retreating back. It's in the way Henry trails off, his eyes looking confused and lost at the end of telling his mother about his day or relating the tale in some book he has read, after realizing that she hasn't heard a word and her eyes are staring right through him into the invisible distance, like she isn't with there with him at all. It shows up as hurt on Snow's face when Emma refuses to hold her baby brother – won't even go near him – often making a panicked excuse and fleeing the loft as soon as possible when someone offers to let her hold the little prince and see how big he's grown or tries to get her to talk to him in cutesy baby babble. Upon seeing Ruby's mouth fall open in shock as Emma slams down her mug of cocoa and runs from the diner at a joke that strikes her wrong, her pirate starts to fear her suffering is growing worse instead of better.

Killian knows it isn't callous anger or indifference causing his Swan to act this way. He can see it's far from how she wishes to behave with those she loves the most. Yet, he is lost as to how he can help his hurting lass. He would only be lying to himself if he denied the stab of pain he feels any time he tries to pull her into his arms, to hold and soothe her. Emma doesn't exactly push him away, but the stiff, unyielding tension she uses to hold herself back when she once would have melted and leaned into his embrace, and the way she trembles, practically vibrating with something he can't quite name certainly isn't helping either of them, and he has learned to let her go with a sigh, wracking his brain for some way to reach her, to bring back the part of his love which is still lost.

~~~~~~00~00~00~00~00~00~00~00~00~00~~~~~~

As he walks slowly toward the harbor near the edge of town after darkness falls one misty, rain-soaked night, Killian stuffs his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, eyes alternating between the ground and the few houses near the water. Though he hasn't admitted as much to himself, he's seeking the cottage Emma and Henry have recently rented – just needing to see their light and feel that everything is okay, for the night at least – when something catches his ear.

At first, it sounds like wood hitting against wood, almost as if someone is picking up logs or planks and throwing them back down or swinging them against something solid. The racket makes no sense but is unmistakable for any normal noises of the surf crashing against the beach, the creak and rock of the boats into the dock, or gulls wheeling and crying out in the sky. Altering his roundabout course to his ship and moving toward the sounds to investigate, Killian realizes that he is drawing closer to Swan's home.

He picks up his pace when the noise ceases, not sure whether the quiet bears worse or better tidings. At the edge of her small yard he pauses, as he has not been invited and no lights are lit but the small one Emma called a "security light" on the house's back corner. It is only when he hears a low, heartrending whimper, what he can tell is someone crying, that he jolts forward and turns the corner of the house to the backyard, desperate to reach his love and unwilling to let her fall to pieces alone, even if she wishes for no one to see her tears.

The sight that greets him takes his breath away, the sight of her freezing him for a moment. Emma has sunk to her knees, head bowed, shoulders shaking, slumped over in defeat. Huddled near the small woodpile she and Henry have been stockpiling for the winter, it is clear that the small logs and kindling scattered around her and haphazardly littering the small outdoor deck were the cause of the sounds he had heard.

Killian remembers all too well the fits of rage after Liam's senseless death, after the loss of his hand, after each failed attempt to finish the Dark One, and he can see all too clearly the release Emma must have needed to start flinging things around; she'd had to take wild action or explode. Drawing nearer, he can't help reaching out to his princess, kneeling beside her and running his good hand over her head, smoothing over her hair and down her back.

She lifts her face enough to peek at him with tearstained cheeks, heaving in ragged gulps of air before shaking her head frantically and backing away. When their eyes meet fully, the lively green of hers is dark, clouded with hurt and so terribly haunted that Killian can hardly bear to hold her gaze. Her pain physically wounds him. She never deserved this. She took on that crippling darkness for all of them, and this is her reward. How is it fair that even after she has won, she is still being kept from those she risked herself to save? She has come back to them, but not fully. This Emma is not the same daring lass with sharp wit, sarcastic barbs, and an easy laugh. He doesn't know where that Emma has gone, or how to break through the shell of her before him.

"You should go, Killian," she whispers, both her voice and her eyes miserable as she gazes on him like she has been thirsting for the sight, even as she tries to send him away. "I may not be the Dark One anymore, but I'm dangerous. I've hurt people…and I'm too worried about losing control to risk it. Please…just leave…before something happens to you too…"

Her eyes leave his as she drops her head, leaning forward and curling into herself as if trying to become invisible. The broken, fearful woman crouched before him, shaking from exertion and shivering in the evening chill, is so different from the brash, take charge sheriff she had been when he met her and the sort of unstoppable avenging angel the darkness had nearly made her. All Emma seems to be now is tired – so weary and alone. Killian has to go to her no matter what she says she wants or what she thinks will protect him.

Gathering her in his arms, Killian picks Emma up easily, telling himself to make sure she has a full, hearty meal soon, as lifting her seems quite effortless. He slips in with her through the sliding glass door to the deck and makes his way to the couch, fully intending to start a fire burning in the hearth and get her warm, Emma pushes her hands against his chest weakly, doing nothing to create any real distance between their bodies. "Killian…no…come on…" she argues listlessly, no real fire in her words as tremors of cold run through her.

Sitting down on her couch, but keeping her held tightly on his lap and pulling a quilt off the back of it to cover them both, Killian shushes her, using his hook deftly to smooth her damp hair out of her eyes. "I'm staying, Swan. You may as well stop fighting me."

Emma's voice is so soft, so plaintive when she speaks again, muffling her words in his shoulder while she refuses to meet his eyes. "I'm afraid," she admits haltingly, and he knows how hard an admission that is for her to make. "What if I really am a monster?"

Killian keeps his voice equally low, trying to hold her close enough that some of his love and some measure of comfort will seep into her veins. He cannot keep from swaying gently, his lips brushing against her temple. "Darling, that is not possible. You are a hero, Love – the Savior. You brought light back into my life when I believed it would never hold anything good again. And I'm just one example whose life you have changed. Something awful has happened to you, Emma, but you are far from a monster."

She sniffles, her voice stammering. "You – you weren't there. You d-don't know…" She shakes her head, sitting up and trying to clamor away from him again.

He wraps his arms around her more tightly, refusing to let her retreat. She needs to stay near him; both so he can restore more of her body heat, and so he can calm her down. "Swan, please, tell me what happened," he urges, rubbing his good hand up and down her arm bracingly.

"Mom w-was trying to f-finish making dinner and …she asked me to h-hold Neal. I w-warned her I shouldn't but…s-she wouldn't stop. I could f-feel myself getting upset…and I put my h-hand out…just to k-keep her away…b-but the glasses on the table sh-shattered. A piece went flying and c-cut Snow's cheek. She s-said it was fine, b-but it could have…gotten Neal. It c-could have been so much worse. No one's safe around m-me anymore. I just…lost control…and they're n-nothing I can do to stop it."

She pushes against him suddenly enough and hard enough that she breaks free, only to fall from his lap and land hard on the floor at his feet. Emma still won't meet his eyes, and she quickly tries to scoot backward out of his reach.

Killian is quick though and catches her arm, stopping her motion. "Swan, wait," he begs, not sure what else to do, only that he must reach her. He is certain that no one Emma loves is blaming her, or that they find her such a danger they fear being around her. He knows no one who cares for her is calling her a monster, and they would not want her to be in such agony over a simple mistake. "Love, you cannot keep doing this to yourself. It was an accident."

She lets out a bone-deep sigh, at last raising her eyes, still welling with tears and red-rimmed, to his. "You aren't afraid of me?"

Reeling her back in, Killian pulls gently until Emma is back on the couch and curled so closely into him that he can cradle her at his side once more. "Never, Emma…I could never fear you. Nor would your family."

"They have before," she murmurs, "and I can't even blame them."

"Lass, they wish nothing more than to see you well and whole again, as do I. You sacrificed so much for all of us. We only want to help you." He strokes his hand over her cheek, gently cradling the back of her head to draw her forward and place a brief, chaste kiss to her lovely mouth.

Emma's eyes flutter closed and she accepts the kiss, letting out a shaky breath and seeming to steady herself. Her next words escape on a gentle sigh. "You'll never stop loving me, will you, Killian? Even if I'm never quite the same?"

"You will be, Emma, given time. But regardless, I will be right here. As I told you some time ago, I'm in this for the long haul."

His words bring out a tiny smile and a breath of laughter from her, just as he had hoped, and Killian grins back, loving even the smallest hint of relief in her face and the touch of brightness to her eyes.

"Then just hold me," she says, tucking herself even nearer to her pirate's warmth, leaning her head on his shoulder, "and I'll try to believe it too."

"…And when you feel your faith is running low,

I'll be there to believe in you…

I'll be the sun when your heart's filled with rain.

I'll be the one to chase the rain away.

I'll be your shoulder when you need someone to lean on.

Be your shelter.

When you need someone to see you through,

I'll be there to carry you.

I'll be there.

I'll be the rock that will be strong for you,

The one that will hold onto you.

When you feel that rain falling down.

When there's nobody else around, I'll be..."