AN: I AM SO BEYOND SORRY THAT THIS HAS TAKEN SO LONG! Thank you guys for the support and awesome reviews, I just started law school this week and I moved to my new place two weeks ago so it's been a hell of a couple of weeks. I don't know how often I'll be able to update because I have a mountain of homework every day, but please know that I am always thinking of writing this story and I'll try to have the next installment in a couple of weeks I promise!

Chapter 6

2006

Emma can feel his eyes on her from across the library. She bites her lip as she takes a glance at him and finds him looking away almost instantly, embarrassed and caught in the act. Emma shakes her head and rubs the length of her forearm, trying to rid herself of the sensation that was brought upon by her hairs standing on edge.

"You two are ridiculous." David says as he highlights something in his textbook and shakes his head.

"What are you talking about?" Emma huffs. "There's nothing between us."

"Oh, cut it out. You two have been eye-fucking each other since last week's party." David laughs, pointing an accusatory highlighter at Emma.

"Even more so ever since your date two nights ago." Mary Margaret adds.

"We're not eye-fucking David. And you…" she says giving Mary Margaret a slight shove on her shoulder, "aren't helping."

"We just want to see you happy Emma. You've opened up to us, why not him?" Mary Margaret offers defensively.

"Yeah, and if you're not willing to do that, get some of that sexual tension out of the way at least." David laughs, he's in a much more lighter mood nowadays. He had gotten into a discussion with Kathryn a few days ago and she ended up calling it quits. David was relieved to say the least, but still hadn't tried to pursue anything with Mary Margaret.

Emma knew that David was right, both he and Mary Margaret were right actually. But David had hit the nail on the head much more so than Mary Margaret had. Two nights ago Emma and Killian had gone out on their date. And it had been a hell of a date and their chemistry was undeniable. Emma felt like Killian understood her on a deeper level than anyone else had. She couldn't put a finger on what it was, but somehow she felt like Killian had also known pain and loss. Maybe his ordeal wasn't at the same level as Emma's, but she knew that whatever had happened to him was monumental enough to have shaped his character. In the few hours that she spent with him Emma felt like she was not in the company that of someone whose purpose was to fix her, but rather someone who was willing to accept her flaws and all. Or so she hoped, anyways.

Emma knew that he was looking at her again and she would give anything to feel his lips on hers again, rather than be studying for her sociology midterm. After dinner on Friday, they had stopped at a pub on their way back and listened to some music. Two beers in they found themselves dancing amidst the dense and sweaty crowd, his hands on the small of her back, their bodies close together. Killian was definitely a total charmer, especially when they were back sitting in a booth in a dark secluded corner. He was whispering in her ear and making her laugh. After a while, Killian had suddenly gone quiet. Emma didn't know when he had started to play with her hair, but she didn't mind it at all.

"You are incredible, Swan." He said softly, his eyes sincere.

"I'm alright." She responded, feeling the blush creep up her neck in heated embarrassment. She is not the best at accepting compliments.

"You've gone red." He told her, giving her a small smile that reaches his eyes.

"I tend to do that when I'm embarrassed." She confided, the alcohol from the beers she had earlier acting like a truth serum.

"Why are you embarrassed?" He smiled wider and had started to trace circles with his index finger on the back of Emma's hand.

"Because I'm nervous." She decided to keep telling him the truth. Emma, usually a beacon of confidence, couldn't remember the last time she felt this nervous.

"Why are you nervous?" Emma could tell that he was really enjoying this, being the source of her unease. His face had inched closer to hers, she could see faint freckles on his cheeks as bright as day.

"Because you're really close to me and I've had an amazing time tonight." At this he inched even closer to her, his hand entangled once again in her long hair.

"Is this too close?" He asked her again, his hand having travelled to cup the side of her face.

"No, you're fine."

"How about this?" His lips by then were almost brushing hers and Emma's heart threatened to beat right out of her chest.

"Still okay." She breathed, knowing fully that if she were standing she would've collapsed on the floor already.

"I'm going to kiss you now, Emma Swan." He pulled away slightly and looks directly into her eyes, his look genuinely asking her permission. Emma sensed a shake in his breath as he told her that. Maybe he was just as nervous as she was.

"I honestly don't know what's taking you so long." She said as she tugged on his collar and pulled him closer to her, their lips touching for the first time.

Emma feels as if recollecting her memory of Friday night has her threatening to fall over the edge. If Killian keeps looking at her the way he's been looking at her for the past hour and doesn't do something about it soon, Emma knows she's bound to go insane. She desperately wants his lips against hers again, she wants more of him, and she knows he feels the same way. It takes her three more individual moments of squirming in her seat and attempts to ease down the hairs on her forearms for her to resolve to do something about her sexual frustration. She mumbles something about needing a book before standing up and heading to the back of the library, not before pausing slightly behind Killian and lightly dragging her fingers around his shoulders. She winks at him for a brief second as he looks up at her before she continues on to the back of the library. Halfway there, out of the corner of her eye she can see that he stood up a few seconds after she left and took the cue to follow her.

With his legs slightly longer than hers, he catches up to her in a matter of seconds, and his hand instinctively places itself on the small of her back. Emma can't seem to wipe the grin off her face, knowing full well how stupid it must look. Finally she reaches the last secluded corner of the library, full of old case files and research papers that barely anyone needs anymore, and she turns towards him, relieved to see that his smile matches the stupidity of hers.

"You summoned me, Swan?" He asks, raising one eyebrow at her and hooking his index finger inside a belt loop in her jeans, pulling her closer to him.

"Sure, if you want to call it that." She teases, while she stands up on her tiptoes.

"Care to tell me why you've made me follow you to the corner of the library that no one has stepped foot in since it's inception?" He asks her softly, his face dangerously close to hers.

"I'd rather just show you." She answers before pulling him by his collar and kissing him full on the lips. Emma thought that the moment their lips would meet she would satiate the hunger, the lust, the wanting she had for him. However, what she found was that with every second that his lips were on hers, the more she wanted them there, and the less satisfied she was. Emma is glad to see that Killian wants her as much as she wants him right now. He's pushing her against the bookcase and the metal digging into Emma's back but she doesn't care because his knee is thrust between her legs applying pressure to the area where she needs it most. His stubble is scratching her chin raw, but she wouldn't have it any other way. His hands are warm and comforting, goose bumps welcoming the warmth that follows having his hands grasp her waist underneath her sweatshirt. Killian then starts kissing her neck, making Emma moan a little too loud for what was appropriate. But who are they kidding? What's appropriate about making out in the back of the library during midterms? Still, Killian pulls back and shushes her, grinning while he covers her mouth with his hand and diving back into kissing her neck. Emma feels her knees weak, knowing fully that if Killian weren't sustaining her by pressing her up the bookcase she'd melt down on the floor. Emma feels his erection pressing up against her thigh, and dear God she wishes he could take her right then and there. It's been so long since she's been intimate with anyone and residual teenage hormones seem to still be swirling deep amongst her system.

Killian curses against her neck when he feels that Emma has ventured her hand down and is stroking him through the jean fabric. He'd take her then and there if she'd let him. His thoughts have been consumed with her presence for the last two days, especially after Friday night. He has been kissing her lips again for quite some time. To be honest, neither of them remembers how long it has been since they started or how long they've been away. Finally, they come up for air and look at each other intently for the first time during this whole exchange. It is unspoken, but somehow they both know that for the first time they'd be willing to open up again so long as it was with each other.

2014

"What are you thinking about, Swan?" Killian asks her quietly in the dimly lit restaurant they were in. The restaurant is small and Italian and in the heart of the Meat Packing District, close to where Killian lives.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She answers with a smirk, looking down at the mess she's made on the table with her paper napkin lies now shredded. It's a horrible habit, really, something she picked up God knows when.

"Tell me." She looks up at him when he speaks again, his tone pleading and playful.

"Well, if you must know. I was thinking about that day we were supposed to be studying for midterms and ended up basically having sex in the library."

"Ah, yes. Didn't we scar Mary Margaret for life that day?" He gives a low, breathy laugh, remembering the incident well.

"I think she said something much more dramatic, but yes that sounds about right." She concedes and is quiet again.

"You know, you're the one that ever calls me Swan anymore." She says after a while, once her plate is placed in front of her. She rests against the booth and brings the glass of wine back to her lips.

"Old habits die hard, love. Plus it has a better ring on your name than Walter's." He tells her simply, grinning widely at her.

"Walsh." She corrects him automatically. She later realizes that she doesn't care what he calls her husband. She's already been intimate with Killian and she wants to be again. She's definitely not in love with Walsh anymore. So, what does that make her and Killian? They were more than coworkers, obviously, and undoubtedly more than friends. However, were they going to put a label on it, or was he even going to agree to seeing her like this?

"I don't care." He shrugs back at her, smiling, and bringing his beer bottle back to his lips and taking a swig.

"So, I guess we should discuss whatever this is." She offers, attempting to get the conversation flowing.

"Let's just have dinner right now, love. Plenty of time to catch up later." He tells her sincerely before taking a hold of her hand and giving it a light squeeze.

"Okay."

Once they've had dinner they find themselves on their way to Killian's apartment. Killian tells her that it's only a ten-minute walk and that he'd rather talk to her about this in private. Emma wants to desperately hold his hand and she's sure that Killian does too. The back of his hand has been ghosting around the back of hers, almost touching but not quite. Every time it happens Emma looks up at him, causing him to defiantly look straight ahead but also causing a wide smirk to appear on his face. She smiles to herself. She knows that she shouldn't feel this happy, this fulfilled, and this complete when she's with Killian, but she does. Walsh is not present in her mind whenever she's with Killian, and as a matter a fact nothing else really is either. When she's with Killian she feels as if they're the only two souls in the world, the only two people in Manhattan or anywhere else. They haven't agreed on anything yet, but the way he looks at her is enough for Emma to feel a sense of happiness she hasn't felt in ages. She feels completely comfortable and content just by walking next to him, no need to talk or fill the empty space between them with longing touches or empty words. Killian's company is more than enough for her, and that's something she hasn't let herself open up to in months and maybe even years.

They finally arrive at his building. Emma shoves her hands inside her pockets and swings on the balls of her feet for a few seconds as he unlocks the front door. There's no denying that this building used to be a warehouse of some sort back in the day, the inlaid red bricks on the wall are dated and scratched in some places. Emma takes in the vast difference of his place to hers. Her building and apartment are sleek, minimal, and off-white in color. Whereas his is rustic, industrial, vibrant colors in the wall, it's completely Killian in every sense of the word. Emma cannot stop the grin from spreading widely when Killian takes hold of her hand inside of the elevator. As he squeezes it, she feels like her heart threatens to beat out of her chest any moment.

They arrive at his loft and Emma is taken aback by the juxtaposition of the industrial brick and the sleek, stainless steel kitchen equipment and modern interior. It's what she always imagined her place would look like.

"Wow." she breathes taking in the surroundings. He had acquired what looked like an original Jackson Pollock and some vintage metal signs. On the corner he had a laser cutter and books that specialized in typefaces, advertising, and design.

"Do you like it?" he asks with a small smile.

"I love it. It's incredible." Emma grins back.

"Do you want something to drink? Beer? Wine? Water?" He asks after mumbling his thanks.

"Water is fine." Emma responds and as he walks away, she starts to look at the pictures over his mantelpiece. She's surprised to see that she's in one of them, not by herself, but alongside Mary Margaret, David, and Killian. She sees a picture of his parents, and of his late brother Liam, and then she sees a picture of a woman she doesn't recognize. She's beautiful, Emma concludes, with high cheekbones, long dark brown hair, and pale blue eyes.

She feels Killian's gaze on her and she turns towards him. He offers her a glass of water and she takes it gratefully. She can see that Killian is tense, his eyes dark and clouded by an emotion she cannot decipher. Whoever that woman was, Emma knows better than to ask him about it, so she sits down on the couch and beckons him to sit next to her.

When he does she places her glass on the coffee table and cups his face instead, kissing him lightly on the lips. He kisses her back, hand buried in her long blonde hair. Emma feels herself getting flustered, heat radiating from her stomach. This is the first time they kiss since the wedding, and she needs more. She cannot fathom what has gotten into her or why she cannot control herself around him, but she's blaming her blatant lack of affection and her desperate need for it. She tries to deepen the kiss, but he doesn't let her, frustrating her to no end. Emma is insistent, biting his lip, even trying to part his lips with her tongue but Killian won't budge.

She pulls back with a pout, clearly upset with his lack of response. She crosses her arms across her chest and slumps down against the sofa. Killian presses his head against her shoulder, nuzzling it up into the crook of her neck.

"What, love?" he asks, his voice muffled.

"What do you mean 'what'? You don't want to kiss me." Emma huffs, her pout unbeknownst to her protruding further.

"Yes I do." Killian tells her defiantly.

"Your lack of enthusiasm would convince anyone otherwise." Emma says quietly. She really is more embarrassed than she is hurt by this whole exchange.

"I'm sorry." He tells her sincerely, but Emma is too embarrassed to even look at him and test out her lie detector magic.

"I thought you wanted me." It kills Emma to say these words. Even after all these years, admitting that she craved affection and wasn't the unabashed loner she set out to portray caused her discomfort. The fact that she's here at Killian's apartment is a huge deal in itself, let alone the fact that she's more than willing to be swept of her feet by him.

"I do! Emma, love. I do want you. I just-" His voice trails off.

"You just what?"

"I just want to do this right." He responds shyly, blue eyes locking with hers. "You know, I want to properly court you, Swan." He's back to his original impertinence, grinning cockily at her and throwing a wink for good measure.

Emma laughs. "How exactly do you properly court a married woman, Killian?"

"I'll figure it out. But first, we need to figure out what all this is." He tells her, grinning and motioning between them.

"I believe it's called an affair." Emma says matter of fact.

"We both know it's more than that, Emma." Killian responds softly, his hand covering Emma's and squeezing it lightly.

"Are you saying you figured out the reason why we were so adamant and willing to jump in bed together?"

"I'm pretty sure I have."

"And?"

"It's clear, isn't it? We were both desperately craving attention and affection."

"Well I know I was…but you? What happened to you?"

Killian sobers up quickly and he's quiet for what seems like an eternity. Emma knows how hard it is to open up, how hard it is to let one in and know your pain. Killian talked about craving affection in such a passionate way that it resonated deep within her. Emma wanted to get the ball rolling and make him start talking. She wanted to help him, heal him, and comfort him in ways beyond sexual satisfaction. It really astonishes her how easy it has been to fall back into such a comfortable pattern with him, how her walls have slowly started to come down barely without any difficulty, and how when she is with him time seems to stop.

"Is it her?" she asks somberly, fully knowing that for her picture to be next to Liam's it meant that whomever this woman was, she was important to Killian.

Killian simply nods his head, staring straight towards the picture and taking a moment to finish off the last of his beer. A sense of unease fills Emma's entire body, if this woman is so important to make Killian completely shut down, what on earth happened? And more importantly, could she ever compare? True, they had a past together, but that was simply one year abroad. Back then they were young and they were foolish, and after she left letters were less frequent, time difference hindered, and their relationship just withered away like flowers do in the winter.

"Who is she?" she asks, her voice shy and small.

"She's my wife." He says stoically, rolling the empty beer bottle's neck between his palms.

"You're married?" Emma wishes she hadn't sound so incredulous. She also wishes that a pang of jealousy hadn't taken over her system. After all, she's married too.

"I was." He responds in the same bland, stoic voice and stands up, walking towards the picture.

"Divorce?" Emma asks, still sitting on the couch.

"Widow, actually." Killian responds, looking at her and giving her a rueful smile. A smile that told Emma that he had accepted the fact that his wife was gone, but that he still hadn't gotten over it. I'm not sure you ever do, Emma thought.

"She was beautiful."

"Aye, she was something. Met her a little after the time when we called it quits. She saved me." That last part he says to himself, his voice grateful.

"Is that why you moved here, because she's gone?"

"In part, I just couldn't bear it anymore. Too many memories."

"Do you mind if I ask how it happened? How she…" Emma couldn't bring herself to finish the question; she had never known loss in this way.

"How she died?"

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me, I don't mean to be intruding."

"It's alright, Swan. I'm used to answering it." Or so he wanted himself to believe. It took him a few seconds to regain his composure before he continued. "She died of a pregnancy complication."

Emma is at a loss for words, not only had Killian lost his wife, but he had also lost his future child. He begins to tell her the entire story. How he had met Milah, his wife, a year after he had returned to England after being in Dublin. He told her how madly they both fell for each other and how they were eventually married. He told her how hey were married for three years when Milah finally became pregnant with what would've been their first child. He told her how overjoyed he had been and how they had gone through all the motions, when on the sixth month of her pregnancy Milah started bleeding profusely and had to be taken to the hospital. Killian said he had never been so terrified in his life, how the doctor didn't give much hope to either the Milah or his child. He tells her how the doctor had said that they had to deliver he child but that there was a fifty percent chance that Milah, or the child, or both, wouldn't make it. He tells her how during the emergency C-section he lost Milah, but the child managed to survive. He tells her that he never got to hold his baby girl, how she was hooked on tubes for two weeks, so frail and so small, until she too passed away.

There are tears in Emma's eyes. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like to go through such an ordeal. To find your true love, and to find your happiness only to have it all snatched away from you in a blink of an eye. She stands up, goes over to him, and hugs him fiercely.

"I'm so sorry, Killian." She says against his shoulder, her voice muffled.

"It's alright, love. It's been four years; I've made my peace with it." He tells her, giving her a reassuring grin. He circles his hands against her waist and holds her close, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"I don't want to leave." She confides later on, lying on his bed. They've been lying there for a good two hours, fully clothed, taking turns between talking and kissing, both continuously on the brink of falling asleep.

"Then don't." He responds tightening his grip around her waist, molding his body to hers. His face was resting in the crook of her neck, his arms were draped around her middle, his knees pressed up to the back of hers, and their legs intertwined.

"I'm tired of existing, of being unhappy. I want to live."

"Then let's live."