A/N: OKAY so I'm back in school which explains the why I've been MIA for a bit-I'm still getting accustomed to the new semester. I promise, promise, promise that things will get better soon! I have a feeling that there's only one more chapter left of the story and possibly an epilogue. Most likely an epilogue.

Furthermore, I know a lot of you disliked me using August. I'm really not going to explain myself, I liked the concept and went with it.

And as always! Thank you to killians-dashingrescue for being awesome and supportive and a totally awesome soul 3

-Steph

Chapter 12

"So where have you been?" Mary Margaret asks three weeks later while they have Sunday brunch at Granny's.

"What do you mean?" Emma knows what Mary Margaret means. Between working long hours and spending endless nights rolling in the sheets with August, Emma has practically gone completely off the grid.

"What I mean is that you've cancelled the last three dinners we had planned this month." Mary Margaret responds haughtily, practically stabbing her eggs benedict with her fork.

"I've been busy!" Emma deflects.

"Yeah, okay. With what?" she asks incredulously.

"You know, work and other things." Emma mumbles.

"What other things?"

"Just other things, Mags! Jesus."

"You know last time you were this 'busy', you were off fooling around with Killian. Don't tell me that you're off seeing someone new." Mary Margaret scoffs incredulously, stifling a chuckle as she brings her glass of mimosa back up to her lips.

"Is seeing someone new so hard to believe?" Emma responds, failing at masking the hurt from her voice. Mary Margaret's eyes widen as big as saucers.

"Wait, are you?" she asks, a hopeful smile forming on her lips.

"Maybe." Emma responds, not meeting her eyes.

"Emma! You can't just keep things like this from me! Can I tell David? What's his name? Is he cute? What does he do?" The brunette spews question after question, excitedly.

"Mags! Breathe, please."

"Sorry." She chuckles nervously.

"It's fine. Look, it's really not that serious. His name is August Booth, he works at GQ, I think he's very cute, and sure, tell David."

"Does this mean you're over You-Know-Who?" she asks tentatively.

"I was not aware that I had a thing with Voldemort, Mags." Emma responds sarcastically, earning an eye roll from Mary Margaret.

"I meant Killian."

"I know who you meant." Emma responds quietly.

"So are you?" Mary Margaret asks her.

"I'm getting there." Emma tells her. The brunette smiles at her knowingly, her eyes full of sympathy. The truth is that Emma isn't over Killian, as much as she likes spending time with August, it just isn't enough.

It will have to be. It's over.

"Hey," Mary Margaret starts, her hand closing over Emma's, "you should bring August over next weekend."

"What's next weekend?"

"David's birthday! You're coming, right?"

"Oh, yeah! Of course I'll be there."

Brunch ends with Emma and Mary Margaret going over to Mary Margaret's town house and spending time with Baby Neal, who by now is crawling nonstop and talkative in the babbling way that babies his age are.

After hours of playing endless peekaboo, coloring, and a stroll through Gramercy Park, Baby Neal finally starts winding down for naptime around five. Emma is watching over him while Mary Margaret and David take a well-deserved nap when the doorbell rings.

Emma opens the door only to find a rosy-cheeked Killian on the other side of the doorstep.

"Swan." He greets surprised. Pleasantly surprised? No, Emma decides, she must be imagining it.

"Killian, hi." She answers flustered, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, nervously.

"Hi. Can I come in?" he asks with a laugh. A nervous laugh? No, Emma decides, don't be silly. "Where is everyone?" He continues as he takes off his sports coat and hangs it in the closet.

"Napping." Emma answers. God, how does she always get roped into these situations? She doesn't even know how she's supposed to act here. They're not friends anymore, and certainly not lovers, yet he seems to be perfectly willing to talk to her normally and spend time with her.

Maybe he is, Emma doesn't know. She thinks that it could be that but that it could also definitely be that he has no other choice and he's just being polite.

"I guess I'll be spending the rest of the afternoon with you, then." Emma hates how the unruly butterflies in her stomach woke up and started fluttering at the prospect of spending time with Killian. He shoots a tentative grin her way, testing the waters.

"Yeah, I guess so." She responds, willing her heart to slow down to a less tachycardic rhythm.

"Where is the little man?" he asks walking into the living room and going straight for Baby Neal's playpen.

"No, don't! He just went to sleep." Emma whispers urgently as Killian starts to bend over the playpen to pick Baby Neal up. It took forever to get the kid to sleep, and she was not about to let him thwart that achievement. No matter how bad her ovaries would appreciate the sight of Killian with a child in his arms.

Killian nods at her and raises his arms in mock surrender. He grins at her when he notices that his action made her face break into a genuine smile. They stand in the family room smiling, coffee table barricading them away from each other, and unable to say a word. Emma is the first to break the silent spell. She turns away and sits on the love seat taking back the book she was reading before Killian had knocked at the door.

"What's the book about?" he asks her from the sofa.

"Fairytales." She answers simply, her eyes not leaving the page.

"Didn't peg you for that type." He says. Emma recognizes the tone immediately, he used it on her many times before, back when they were together and he teased her every chance he got.

"I was reading them to Neal before he fell asleep. Some of them are tragic, did you know? Definitely not Disney rated." She answers him naturally, not realizing that he had gone to sit next to her until the cushions dipped with his weight.

"I did not know. How are they tragic?" She knows he's just making conversation with her. She knows because she's doing the same thing, she is saying anything with the hopes of hearing his voice answering hers.

"Well, apparently in Rapunzel, when the prince climbs the tower and doesn't find Rapunzel but the sorceress that had her trapped in the tower, in his grief he throws himself off the tower and thorns poke his eyes out, making him blind."

"What happens next?" he asks her through the laughs that emerged due to her extreme disdain for the story.

"He wanders the forest blind, eating nuts and berries, until he finds Rapunzel and the set of twins that she had given birth to, then she cries into his eyes and he can see again."

"A set of twins?" He looks at her incredulously.

"Yeah, apparently he was weaving more than silk when he came to visit the tower every night." Emma scoffs, making Killian laugh again.

"And they read this to kids?"

"Well this one is tabbed in red so I think that's not the ones I'm allowed to read to him. They have the Disney version of it, where the hair is magical and Rapunzel doesn't birth a set of twins by herself in the forest." Emma finishes with a laugh.

"Clearly the better alternative." Killian says.

"Clearly." Emma agrees.

They stay silent for a while, both of them too scared to say what they want to. Too busy to tell the other how much they miss each other's company. Emma is still nervous to have him sitting so close to her. It's hard to believe that they had ever been intimate with each other, had ever been in love with each other. Right now, not even a semblance of that relationship seems to be alive between them. What's left is a dense air, sexual tension that can be cut through with a knife, and a general sense of unease between the two of them.

"Emma, I.." Killian starts quietly next to her. She meets his gaze, terrified of what he's going to say.

"Killian don't say something we'll both regret." She whispers.

"You don't even know what I was going to say." He tells her, a small smile on his lips. He inches closer to her, she can feel his breath hot on her cheek but the second his arm drapes across her shoulders she feels as though she's been scalded.

He used you. Her inner voice tells her. He used your body to make himself feel better about the shitty situation you're both in. He's just doing it again.

Emma stands up quickly, mumbling something about how she has to leave and that she'll see him tomorrow. He calls after her, but she just speeds out of the room and out to the street, repeating that she can't, she can't, she can't, like a prayer on her lips.

There's a knock on her door an hour later. Emma opens the door to find August on the other side. His grin makes her melt almost instantly, not because it was so attractive that she couldn't bear it, but because his company was exactly what she needed right now. She needed real, she needed tangible.

"Hey, sorry I took so long." He tells her with a kiss on the cheek, "But I had to track down the right food truck and get the right sandwich you were craving."

"It's okay. Where was it? Did you have to go too far?" Emma asks, letting him in and resting her elbows on her kitchen counter.

"Bronx. Are you okay? You sounded off on the phone." He looks at her and asks her sincerely, pausing before taking the sandwiches out of the bag.

"I'm fine, I just missed you." She mumbles, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. She smiles despite herself when she feels his lips on the top of her head.

August is real. August is tangible.

"I missed you too, Em." He says, his voice muffled due to his lips still against the top of her head.

"So, which one is mine?" she asks, instantly grabbing the sub that he points to and sitting back down in order to devour it. "So you know my friend, Mary Margaret, right?" Emma asks August with her mouth half full. The sandwich and August's company are both doing wonders for her mood.

"You've mentioned her, yes." August answers her through laughs, wiping residue mayonnaise from the corner of Emma's mouth.

"Well it's her husband's birthday next week." She continues.

"Your other friend, David." August states as he looks for a beer in Emma's fridge, and tries to put names with descriptions.

"Yes. Well I was thinking you could come with me." Emma tells him.

"Yeah, I'd like that." August answers with a smile, sitting next to Emma and

"Yeah?" She asks him coyly, the smile she gives him reaching her eyes.

"Absolutely." He responds, returning the smile.

Emma devours what's left of her sandwich in no time at all. She stands up and throws away her wrapper, and walks to her living room. A few minutes later August joins her on the couch, lifting her legs and sitting on the couch and lowering her legs on top of his lap. They watch TV in silence, August drawing lazy circles on her bare legs with his fingers.

"You really like me, don't you?" Emma asks him, a small smile tugging at her lips. She doesn't know why she asks such an obvious question. She knows how much August likes her.

"I really do." He replies, locking his pale blue eyes with her green ones and returning her smile.

"Why? I mean, all my life I've thought I'm so messed up and not good enough for anyone. Most of the people I've been with have hurt me, tried to fix me, just being myself has not been good enough. So, why do you like me? Please don't say because you like how broken I am." She's rambling, Emma knows. Part of her can't believe how brazen she's being with someone who's not even her boyfriend. Not her anything, just a glorified fuck buddy, really.

"I don't think that at all, Em. I like you for you, the way you think, your humor, your drive. I think you're incredible."

"Incredible?" She asks coyly, dropping her legs from his lap and scooting up closer to him.

"Incredible." He nods.

"What's so incredible?" she asks him quietly, sultrily, her lips close to his jaw.

"I think the way you kiss is pretty incredible." He whispers, eyelids fluttering closed as Emma's lips brush against his own. She kisses him softly and makes to pull back, but when she does his hand closes his grip on the back of her neck and he brings her back to kiss him again. She comes up for breath after a few seconds, her lips barely leaving any space between his.

"What else do I do that's so incredible?" she asks him breathlessly. He groans, clearly over the inquisition game, forcefully kisses her again and when he breaks says, "Why don't I just show you?"

And did he ever, over and over again.

Emma envies how quickly August was able to fall soundly asleep. Ever the over-thinker, her mind was racing a mile a minute, unable to get the thought of Killian out of her mind.

Today was so strange. Killian was nice and genuine, not at all like the angered guy who walked into her office two months ago, incredibly disturbed by her presence in the company again. And definitely not at all like the mute, hateful man who fucked her in a linen closet last July and then told her he wanted nothing to do with her.

No, today was different. He was soft, sweet, and agreeable. Hell, up to the part when she freaked out and exited the Charmings' house as if it were on fire, the whole exchange had been incredibly enjoyable. But Killian said so himself, they were over. So, what did it all mean?

She stands from her bed, pulling on her ratty cleaning day shorts and throwing on an oversized t-shirt with August's alma mater emblazoned on it, and heads to the kitchen. All the way there her mind is clouded with thoughts of Killian, the events of this afternoon, and the events of the past two years. A small part of her feels guilty about thinking of Killian when she has a perfectly incredible guy asleep on her bed. August treats her just like she wants to be treated, like she deserves to be treated, but could it ever be enough?

True, August was real and he was tangible. He was caring, devoted, thoughtful, and not too bad on the eyes. But Emma didn't know if what she felt was him was real enough, tangible enough, to matter. As she pours herself a glass of water, Emma thinks she hears a light tapping on the door. Being that it was a little after midnight she brushes it off as her tired mind playing tricks on her, but five seconds later she hears it again. She gasps as she sees Killian through the peephole.

What on earth is he doing here at this time?

She steadies her breath before she opens the door and he greets her with a small smile that falters quickly when he notices the clothes she's wearing. Emma closes the door behind her and subconsciously crosses her arms against her chest, still completely taken aback by the surprise visit.

They stand in the hallway, enveloped in a completely dense and awkward silence.

"Killian, hi." She says finally, mentally cursing her voice for sounding so flustered. "Are you okay? Why are you here?"

"I'm fine, Swan. I was just hoping we could talk for a moment." Killian answers, his voice dripping with nerves and his hand anxiously scratching the back of his neck.

"Okay, shoot." She tells him, hoping that her encouraging smile did not come off as a grimace.

"I was rather hoping we could talk more in private, love." He tells her cautiously, gesturing towards her apartment.

"Oh, um…look Killian, right now isn't a good time." She mumbles finally, unable to meet his eyes for more than a split second.

"Oh, alright then. I take it you're busy, then." He says quietly, dejectedly.

"I am." Emma answers, unable to bring herself to say anything further. Her heart feels like it's about to beat out of her chest. She wants to reach out to him and pull him close to her, she wants to kiss him, to nurture him, and to take the sadness away from his life. But she can't.

She won't. Not while August is in the other room, peacefully sleeping, with no troubles in his mind.

A year ago she would've jumped at the opportunity to use another person to fill her void, to use affection to make herself feel worthy and complete.

But that's not who Emma is anymore.

"Is it serious?" He asks. Emma sighs, knowing that he's referring to the relationship she's forming with August.

Of course Killian would ask her the question she's been having such a hard time answering for herself. Of course.

"I'm not sure yet. It can be." She tells him truthfully, smiling sadly at him.

"And are you happy?" he asks, looking into her eyes for the first time since she opened the door.

"Happier than I've been in a long time." She nods. It was the truth, in the past year Emma has taken her life by the reins, loving herself first, unlearning what she has been taught since infancy. Unlearning the acceptance that she wasn't wanted by her parents, unlearning way Neal tried to fix her and just left her broken into pieces, unlearning that it was okay to have a husband that manipulated her and bribed her into making choices that she didn't want to make because it would benefit him, and therefore both of them. Finally, she was unlearning the habit of filling the loneliness in her heart by falling headfirst into the arms of another.

Killian steps forward and kisses her cheek. "Then that's all that matters. I'll see you tomorrow, Swan."

With one last look and a rueful smile directed at her, Killian walks away leaving Emma dumbstruck touching the scorched spot on her cheek that he had kissed.

"Whoa." August whistles as he steps into the threshold of Mary Margaret and David's townhouse, a week later. "This is swanky."

"Yeah," Emma replies. "They're kind of loaded."

"Trust fund babies?" He asks matter-of-factly, taking a champagne flute from a nearby tray.

"Something like that." Emma laughs, taking a champagne flute for herself.

"Must be nice." August tells her wistfully.

"I don't know. I like that I've been roughing it these past months." Emma teases.

"Emma, you live in Lower Manhattan. I would hardly call that roughing it." August replies seriously, shaking his head.

"Hey! It was quite the downgrade from basically having a whole floor to myself in the Upper West Side." She snaps at him with an accompanying eye roll.

"Emma! You made it!" Mary Margaret cries from the other side of the hall. She's ridiculous, Emma thinks. One minute Emma sees her a good twenty feet away from her, and the next she sees her squeezing between two random guests and throwing her arms around her. "You must be August!"

"I am, you must be Mary Margaret." He answers him with a grin.

"Ooh, Emma you were right he is handsome." How much has this woman had to drink? At the mention of the comment, August raises his eyebrows at Emma to which she shakes her head at. Though in all honesty, August did clean up very nicely. He was wearing a tailored solid gray suit with a white shirt and a skinny steel gray tie.

"Glad you approve, Mags. How much champagne have you had?" Emma changes the subject quickly and Mary Margaret catches on just as fast, narrowing her eyes at Emma.

"A lot. Did you know David's dad is here? Isn't life grand?" Oh, Emma thought, that explains it. Mary Margaret and her father-in-law did not get along well ever since he found out that she was the main reason that David and Kathryn didn't work out. You see, David's father and Kathryn's father were partners at a law firm up in Boston, and Emma guesses that their hope was to join their stupidly wealthy families together by means of having David and Kathryn ending up together. However, cue Mary Margaret being perfect for David and them spending a year abroad in Ireland and the marital merger was a thing of the past. To be fair, it has gotten better over the years, especially now that Baby Neal is the center of attention, but David's father really is insufferable.

"Oh, it's fine. Come on, I'll take you to see David so you can wish him a happy birthday." Mary Margaret huffs and leads the way through the dense throng of people. David, it turns out, was in the lounge, playing billiards with his friends from work, and (oh, kill her now) Killian.

"Guess who finally made it to the party, hon." Mary Margaret says. David breaks away from the group, hugs Emma, and thanks her for the present. He is open and welcoming towards August, whom he instantly takes a liking to, and invites him to play the next round of pool.

"You okay with that, Em?" August asks.

"Go for it." She tells him simply. To be honest, she was much more preoccupied with the way Killian looked at her, at August, and then back at her. He gives her a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, but he introduces himself to August and is perfectly cordial towards him as well.

"You okay?" Mary Margaret asks her.

"Perfect." Emma responds.

But she wasn't perfect. In fact, Emma has been so confused over the past week, ever since Killian came to see her, that the mere sight of him is almost too much to handle. She was having a hard time believing that they were truly over.

You idiot, she thinks, if you want to be with him that bad just break it off with August.

But the thing is, she likes August too. She loves spending time with him and till now, he hasn't given her a single reason to not want to be with him.

Yes, but you love Killian.

Yes, but he let her go. He's happy if she's happy, and she is.

Debatable.

In the two hours that she's been there she has seen August only twice. He must have hit it off with the guys even better than she thought he would. She's happy for him, that he found a way to have fun in a place where he knows no one. However, part of her half hoped that he'd whisk her mid-party to the backyard and make out with her a little. Because, no offense, Emma loves Mary Margaret's mother, but there's only so much she can take to listening on how to make the perfect strawberry rhubarb pie.

Emma excuses herself from the group and while grabbing yet another champagne flute makes her way to the backyard. It's funny to think, that a little over a year ago she had been sitting on the cobble-stoned floor, mid-anxiety attack, Walsh inside of the house and Killian kneeling in front of her asking her to leave her husband. It feels like that happened a lifetime ago or like it happened to someone else and she was just hearing the story second hand.

"Fancy meeting you here, Swan." Killian's lilting accent travels into the backyard softly. Emma can see the shadow his body is casting over the cobble-stoned floor.

"I don't see how it's surprising. This tends to be my spot during these parties." She turns back and smiles at him.

"It's a good spot." He concedes.

"Yeah, it is." She agrees quietly. "How come you aren't playing pool anymore?" she asks. Emma watches as Killian thinks over his words and sighs with his hands in his pockets.

"Your boyfriend is a tad insufferable, love." He says finally, with such dissatisfaction that it almost makes Emma giggle.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're jealous, Killian." She teases. Apparently it was the wrong thing to say because Killian just looks at her with incredulous eyes.

"Of course I'm bloody jealous! Why are you with him?" he cries exasperatedly.

"I don't know, maybe because he's good to me." Emma answers defensively. What is his problem? Last weekend he seemed to be perfectly okay with her being happy.

"Was I not good to you?" he says, his voice palpably irritated, his blazing eyes looking deep into hers.

"That's not what I meant." Emma sighs.

"What did you mean, then?" Killian counters, stepping closer to her and reaching for her arm.

"Killian, I don't have to explain myself to you anymore! We're over, remember? You said it." Emma tells him exasperatedly, yanking her arm out of his grip and wanting desperately to get out of this situation. She wants to go home, pop open chardonnay and forget that this encounter ever happened.

"Well maybe I don't want us to be over anymore." Killian says ardently, pulling her towards him by her arm. Before Emma has a chance to realize what has happened, Killian places his lips roughly against hers and kisses her deeply. To say that Emma had the wind knocked out of her was an understatement. It feels so unbelievably incredible to be kissing him again. Killian moans against her lips, probably thinking along the same lines as Emma. She's about to let him deepen the kiss, push her against a darkened corner, and have his way with her when her mind starts to realize what she's doing and suddenly it's like a bucket full of ice was dumped on top of her. Emma breaks the kiss and forcefully pushes Killian away from her.

"No! Not like this." She pants, the kiss having left her breathless.

"Why not, love? Don't deny us this, Swan." Killian asks while making his way towards her, desperate it seems, for another kiss. But Emma can't fall into this again, not this time.

"Killian, I said 'no'. All right? I'm not doing this again." She tells him quietly.

"Emma, please." Killian pleads, his face burrowing in the crook of Emma's neck. She sighs and prays for strength. She's not falling down the rabbit hole again, she can't.

"No! Okay? You hurt me. You used me and I am not this person anymore." Emma starts, putting her hands on Killian's chest and pushing his weight off of her. She takes a few steps back; she needs distance and clarity because right now she's angrier than she's ever been. "What makes you think you have the right to talk to me the way you're talking to me? To come up to me and kiss me after all that has happened? Did you think I'd wait for you, is that it? Did you think I'd fall into your arms after what you did?" She's panting, her chest heaving up and down but it feels lighter than it has in months. Ever since he left her in the hallway, tears blurring her vision and feeling used and discarded she has wanted to say something to him.

"You hurt me too, Swan! Or did you forget about that in your process to make yourself a bloody martyr?" Killian fires back, livid. At least, he's as angry as she is. He turns his back to her and steps away from her.

A martyr? He thinks she's making herself a martyr?

"Hey, I apologized for that! I know that it would never be enough and I am so incredibly sorry for what I did but you have to believe that I made my choice to save you. And when I apologized, you threw that apology to the trash alongside any hope that we could have to fix what happened to us." Tears are prickling her eyes now. For once, for once, she'd like to finish an argument without feeling like she is about to cry. Killian must have heard her voice break (dammit, she really thought he hadn't), because his gaze softens and he takes a few steps closer to him.

"Swan, I-" he starts but Emma cuts him off, nowhere near finished with what she had to say.

"No! Let me finish! That insufferable guy in there? He treats me like I deserve to be treated. He treats me like I'm the best thing that's ever happened to him, and you know what? After all the shit relationships I've been in, I think it's high time I deserved that kind of treatment." Emma is so forceful in her speech that the thin strap of her loose black dress slips off her shoulder, and before she's able to notice it, Killian has already fixed it.

"You're right." He tells her quietly, his eyes looking at her with muted acceptance.

"And another thing—wait, what?" she stops before going off on another tangent. Did she hear correctly? Did Killian say that she was right?

"Swan, you are right. You deserve all the things you've mentioned. And I want to give you that, I can give you that, love. I just want you to give us another shot." Killian's voice is sincere, his hand outstretched towards hers, grabbing her fingers lightly. Emma is so confused, here she is at a crossroads in her path. One road, leads to the man whom she thought was her soulmate, the man whom she thought was her happy ending but with whom she shares too much negative history to possibly overlook. The other road, leads to August, the prospect of a future in which she chooses to live life the way she has the last few months, full of happiness and self-love. Right now, she doesn't know if the path that leads to Killian could guarantee the level of happiness that she has experienced in the past year. Additionally, it feels like taking a huge leap backwards to fall back into Killian's arms.

No, she made her choice when she decided to unlearn all the pain she had experienced in her past. She won't be unfaithful again, she won't jump to fill another void in her chest. If she ends up with Killian again, it will be because she feels confident in her choice that he is who she wants, who she needs, because they both treat each other with the same amount of respect, support, and love that they each deserve. She won't be with him expecting to leave things to fate, to chance, to ignore the past and just give in to desire.

"Killian, I'm with August now."

"Yes, but it's not serious, love."

"No, but it can be and I need you to respect my choice. This is all I can handle right now, no more and no less." Killian nods, finally internalizing her words. Emma walks up to him, places a kiss on his cheek, and starts to walk away.

"Swan, can I just ask one question?" he says quietly. Emma turns towards him and nods.

"Is there hope, you know, for us?" he looks at her expectantly, his blue eyes wide and focused on her green ones.

Is there? She asks herself. She smiles to herself, knowing that there's really only one answer to this.

Of course there's hope for them. Yes.

"Absolutely."