Sorry it took me so long to update this time, but real life got in the way of fiction, and this story deserves not to be rushed. Thanks to those who stay aboard, and especially to those who review.

So, at the end of the previous chapter we left Emma and Hook on the verge of falling asleep, exhausted in a good way, with the echo of three little words floating through the air, uttered by our cutthroat pirate. Will Emma be able to handle that? Will she say them back any time soon? Find out.

Chapter 4:

There's Only One Rule

Like every morning, Hook woke up at seven come hell or high water. The moment he opened his eyes and came to his senses, a huge silly grin split his face when he felt Emma's hand draped on his bare stomach. Her head was resting on his chest, her silky locks tickling the side of his neck. This wasn't a dream or a hallucination, it was real. She was his, and he was really and truly and irrevocably hers; the past twenty-four hours had changed his life forever.

Carefully, very carefully he slipped out from underneath her. She stirred lightly in her sleep, snuggling into the pillow and wrapping her arm around it as if seeking his warmth. Totally mesmerized, he watched her calm breathing and took his time to let his gaze sweep over her sleeping figure. She looked completely relaxed with slightly parted lips that were curved into the tiniest of smiles. He loved the thought that he'd helped put it there. Never thought I'd see one of those. An equally slight smile was shining on his own features as he carefully smoothed her hair out of her face; it had fallen over her rosy cheeks. When he stroked it back, his eyes fell on a faint rash at the side of her neck where his scruff had obviously grazed her delicate skin once too often, and he gently touched it with two fingers.

"Sorry, love," he murmured, and she sighed in her sleep. Determined to let her rest, he left the bed and pulled the sheets over her shoulders before heading into the bathroom.

A little while later, Emma gently slipped from dreaming into consciousness, her eyes still closed and a contented smile gracing her lips. Hook's hoarse voice still echoed in her thoughts: I love you, Emma, only, she was pretty certain it hadn't been a dream. She murmured his name and reached across the soft sheets, freezing when her hand met a cool pillow instead of him. Her eyes flew open, any sleepiness vanishing in an instant. Bolting upright, she cried, "Hook?"

But the bed was empty and so was the room. Out of nowhere, an irrational panic gripped her – this was like an awful kind of déjà-vû, and the well-known, dreaded feeling of having been left alone after having hoped she finally was not any longer clenched her chest almost painfully. Her eyes darted around the room, however, and she saw his leather coat lying in a crumpled heap on the floor where he'd carelessly let it fall the night before. He wouldn't go anywhere without his coat, would he?

Emma hastily swung her long legs out of the bed and got up, wrapping the sheet around her and scanning the floor with expert eyes. The rest of his clothes were there, too, and she laughed nervously at herself and shook her head. That had been really stupid.

She quickly went around the bed and threw the door to the bathroom open, and there he was, standing in front of the small mirror above the sink with his back to her. He was naked, his wet hair sticking out in every direction and naught but a distractingly small towel slung carelessly around his hips; drops of water still clung to his muscular back. "You're here!" she exclaimed.

Hook had been "shaving" with a huge knife she'd never before seen on him; well, he was not really shaving, just scraping a bit at his scruff to keep it in form. At the loud bang of the door he jumped in shock and cut himself at the side of his throat; blood trickled out immediately.

"Bloody hell, Swan!" he huffed. "Has no one ever taught you that it's bad form to scare a man who has a blade at someone's throat, especially so if it's his own?!" He put the knife down, touched the cut with his fingers, then turned around to her and frowned. "Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?!" He looked at his index finger then put it in his mouth to suck at the blood.

Although she didn't want to admit it, the earlier shock of finding the bed beside her empty was still reverberating in her head, and her absurd relief to see he was still there, added on top. Without thinking she blurted out, "Gone?"

"What?!" he snapped. Emma blinked once, twice when she realized what she'd just said. She mentally slapped the back of her head. Of course Hook realized what had been going through her head and he felt an involuntary pang of anger at her suspiciousness; his hand sank down, his eyebrows shot up, and he growled: "Really, Swan?"

She raised one hand in an apologetic gesture, realizing with a pang of pain in her own heart that she'd hurt him probably more than ever before, albeit unintentionally – she knew he of all people would not go anywhere. He'd never left her side since he'd decided to become her ever-present shadow. "Forget what I said. I'm still half-asleep," she urged and waved her hand in front of her face to indicate her confusion. "I'm still kind of..." Without waiting for her to finish, Hook turned away from her and grabbed a towel to dab at his cut, not saying a word and not looking at her. In the mirror she could see that his jaw clenched, the only thing that indicated his anger. Incredibly annoyed with herself, Emma took a step nearer. "I'm sorry," she said simply and clearly.

He turned around slowly and looked at her with piercing eyes, their blue as deep as the sea. "You should be," he replied quietly; his voice wasn't loud, but she could nevertheless hear how upset he was by the way his accent shone through more than usual – when he said "be" it sounded like "bay". Then he turned to the sink again and opened the water faucet to wet the towel.

You screwed that up fine, Emma thought ruefully to herself. Carefully, she stepped closer until she was standing right behind him and tentatively wrapped her left arm around Hook's waist. Her fingers brushed lightly over his stomach as if she were afraid he might back off, or worse, push her away. But of course he did nothing of the sort. She rested her cheek against his scarred right shoulder blade and said quietly; "I don't know how that feels... to have others putting me first." She drew a deep breath and added; "People not leaving me." She shrugged. "It's not easy getting used to it."

Hook threw the towel in the sink and turned around again so that her arm slipped onto his back. Emma had to tilt her head a little to look up at him. His eyes were still fierce, but the earlier anger had left them and was replaced by something else: a wild determination. He angled his head. "Well, I'll just have to help you get used to it," he told her firmly. "I'm not going anywhere."

His anger evaporated as quickly as it welled up; in fact, he felt nothing but regret and compassion for his Swan – tough as his lass was, she had been nothing but a lost girl for such a long time that indeed she would have to get used to being loved, wanted and cherished. He made a secret vow that he would teach her how that felt, even if it took him the next three hundred years.

Emma saw the change in his demeanor and for a moment, she closed her eyes in relief. Like always, he understood what haunted her and offered to have her back. Putting her first. He had done that before as her friend, and now, as her lover he would move heaven and earth to make her happy. She tried an apologetic little smile; she would have to get used to that, too. "Forgive me?"

But to her surprise, he took a step back, out of her embracing arm. "Go away."

She frowned in confusion. "But..."

Hook abruptly turned his back on her again, and then suddenly, in the mirror, she was thrilled to see his wicked grin emerge. He motioned his head to the shower stall. "You need a bath, filthy girl."

After a moment of surprise, Emma grinned, too. "Well, too bad..."

He turned his eyes to her in the mirror and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

She shrugged. "That you're already clean. You could have..." – she looked him up and down in a deliberately lewd way, giving a perfect imitation of himself – "...joined me." She unwrapped the sheet from her body, dropped it to the floor then sauntered over to the shower stall while making sure she had that extra sway in her hips. Two could play this game.

Hook rolled his tongue over the inside of his bottom lip and murmured, "That can be arranged..."

His towel also fell to the floor without further preliminaries, and he slipped into the shower right after she turned the water on. She had just enough time to turn around and face him in eager anticipation before he grabbed her around the waist in a swift move and backed her against the wall of the shower stall. Automatically and with a little gasp, she held on to his shoulders and enjoyed the feeling of being trapped between the cold tiles and his hard body that seemed to emanate a feverish heat. His lips were almost touching hers, and his eyes had that devilish spark again while he ran his hand from her waist over her backside where he let it rest, his left arm still wrapped around her and holding her firmly in place.

"So, you lured me in here, Milady," he murmured against her mouth in his damnable pirate voice, "now tell me, what shall I do with you?"

Her back arched almost with a will of its own, pressing her body even closer into his. Every nerve in her body seemed to thrum with desire already. "Whatever you please, Captain," she replied breathlessly.

Hook smirked. "That's a good girl."

He pressed his lips to hers and her arms slid around his neck, pulling him in even closer, entangling her fingers in his hair. Emma's legs seemed to be turning to rubber, a sensation that was becoming familiar to her while in his presence, and she got completely lost in their kiss again, reveling in the feeling of his mouth on hers. His lips and tongue were doing things to her that she only had got a faint inkling about back in Neverland; but now… now she knew that kissing him was like a drug, like tasting a forbidden fruit: the more she got, the more she wanted it, craved it, needed it. Just when she thought she would never be able to breathe again, his lips left hers, and he kissed and nibbled a fiery path from her mouth over her jawbone and down her throat. A deep sigh escaped her, and she felt him chuckle against her skin.

His left arm moved a little up her back, and suddenly she felt strange, new sensation. Only now did she realize what was missing: his hook was off; she hadn't even noticed that before. Somehow, he'd sensed the subtle change in her posture and lifted his head, looking up at her with a question in his eyes. "What is it, love?"

Emma disentangled her right hand from his hair and ran it down his left arm, pulling it out from behind her. He saw what she was doing and lessened a bit the pressure of his body against hers to give her room and to show her that he was okay with it. She lifted his arm gently in careful perusal. She was surprised at how neat and smooth the surface of the little curve where his left arm ended actually looked. She'd expected more scar tissue. The bite of the crocodile has been very neat, she thought with a touch of anger and also sadness.

Hook was a little anxious about her reaction – about her seeing his physical flaw for the first time – but he tried to play it nonchalantly in order to keep any possible awkwardness away. "I'm damaged goods," he commented dryly.

"Who isn't?" she replied firmly and ran her fingertips ever-so-lightly, almost tenderly over the curve of his stump. "Wearing the hook... does it hurt?" she wanted to know.

He was relieved, even happy to see that she obviously didn't have any qualms addressing that particular subject; obviously, she found it quite natural and not awkward at all. But then, that shouldn't really have surprised him. He held still and allowed her to touch it, carefully explore it, tenderly caress it while the warm water was raining down on them. "No," he replied, "not anymore. The hook has been a part of me for almost longer than I can remember." He shrugged. "I feel sort of incomplete without it."

Emma ran her fingertips from his missing wrist to his elbow and back again, her touch as light as a feather. "You hardly ever take it off, don't you?"

"When I sleep, I mostly do." He tilted his head. "When there's no impending danger that might require immediate attention, that is."

She couldn't get enough of his answers, happy that he was willing to share this very personal part with her. She wanted to get to know him, everything about him, like she knew herself. Better than she knew herself. Yes, by now she knew him almost as well as he knew her, but she also knew there were still blank spots on his black vest; things that had hurt him, angered him, changed him – made him the man he was today, the man she loved. "Do you ever miss your hand?" she asked.

He looked down at his stump and then nodded thoughtfully. "Last night I did," he told her and ran his good hand from where it still rested on her hip over her side, her stomach and up between her breasts. She looked down at his hand that lingered over her heart now for a moment before it made its way up to her neck, cupping the left side of her throat and gently caressing her jaw with his thumb. She leaned into his palm and looked in his incredible eyes, waiting for him to continue. "Had I had both my hands," he went on in a slightly croaky voice sprinkled with regret, "I could have felt you more..." he tilted his head, "...made you feel more."

Emma smiled and shook her head. "Believe me; you couldn't possibly have made me feel any more. It was perfect." She put both her hands to his face and leaned a little forward to make sure she had his full attention. "You were perfect." She knew she'd chosen the right words when she saw his expression change from one melancholy into delight again as he nodded slowly. She noticed the glint of mischief dancing in his eyes and closed hers with a playful sigh. "And something makes me think I'm gonna regret what I just said."

She felt him shift, his hand still at her throat, and when she opened her eyes again, his face was only inches apart from hers. He smirked, brought his lips to her ear and purred; "If you're seriously telling me I can't make you feel any more, love, consider it..." he looked her deep in the eyes and breathed against her lips, "... done." She shivered at his promise, and he added with a devilish grin: "Told you I love a challenge."

And with that, he pressed his body into hers again and lowered his lips onto hers, exploring, devouring, thoroughly taking possession of her mouth again, his tongue so fierce and gentle at the same time that her head started to spin; a familiar sensation by now. Slowly, his hand wandered down from her throat, glided over her breast and her side – her now completely wet body – and followed the curve of her hip. Emma sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his kisses with an equal amount of fire. She was surprised for a moment to feel him lessen the pressure of his body onto hers a bit, but then his purpose became clear when she felt his hand slide from her hip between their bodies, easily finding its destination, tenderly, teasingly stroking over her pubic mound, cupping it with his palm.

She shivered under his touch and automatically pushed her hips forward and parted her thighs in invitation and to intensify the contact. She moaned against his lips when his fingers started to move and flutter, playing over and inside her once more aching core like he was playing a fine instrument – teasing, exploring, conquering. Suddenly, he broke the contact of their mouths and left her breathless and confused; Emma opened her eyes to look at him questioningly, almost with a complaint about him breaking their kiss. Hook was scrutinizing her with adoration, but at the same time the devil was lurking in the corners of his eyes when he lifted his hand between their faces and slowly put his index finger into his mouth, sucking it deliberately, wantonly, never taking his intense gaze off her. She stared at him with an open mouthed expression, the shameless sensuality of his gesture simply taking her breath away.

"You taste like honey, love," he purred and winked at her. "Worshipping time now."

He brought his mouth once more to the side of her throat, directly over that spot where her jugular vein was visibly twitching in the rhythm of her madly throbbing pulse. He tugged at the sensitive skin with his teeth, making her draw in a sharp breath, and sucked just hard enough to make it sting deliciously but not leave a mark. Then he slowly glided down along the length of her body, kissing and nibbling his way over her collarbone and down her chest, taking a little detour to linger over her left breast just long enough to coax a tender sigh from her throat before he continued his sensual journey downward and finally sank to his knees.

He took his time, lazily placing soft kisses down her stomach, the sensation of his scruff grazing the highly sensitive skin right above her pubic bone and making her writhe. He slid his hand up her side, fingers widely spread, resting it firmly on her ribcage right beneath her left breast. Holding her in place, he murmured: "Stay still, love."

Emma tried her best, but it was impossible to remain immobile under his skilled ministrations. By then he was done with the teasing and headed to his destination without further delay. She looked down at him with wide eyes and tried to brace herself for the ultimate assault on her already tingling nerve endings, not really knowing what to expect when he lowered his mouth onto her center. Although she saw it coming and although she had experienced that kind of intimate touch before – even if she'd never been a huge fan of it – nothing could ever have prepared her for this. What Hook's tongue and lips did to her evoked feelings so intense it almost blew her mind. She felt the urge to sink down on her knees – so shaky were her legs – and the burning, tingling sensation sent shock waves from her core into every nerve ending, even making her toes curl.

Yes, she had engaged in that kind of activity before, but if she was honest, part of her had always felt a little uncomfortable with it because it meant literally opening up to her very core, almost turning her inside out, and she felt at her most vulnerable in those moments. Here, with Hook, she felt nothing of the sort; all she felt was pure bliss and the utter, flooring certainty that she was safe with him. Not to mention the red hot, blatant explosion of sheer lust that had her nearly faint the second his devil tongue touched her most sensitive bundle of nerves.

How had she never felt any of this before? she wondered; but then, the answer was really obvious, and she heard once more his voice in her head: There's only one rule: pick a partner who knows what he's doing. And, God help her, that man definitely knew what he was doing.

The warm water rained down on him, pouring over his back and streaming over his face. He wasn't paying attention to it or maybe it just wasn't bothering him while he indeed worshipped her; there simply wasn't another word for what he was going to her. Emma placed her right hand on his inclined head, grabbing a fistful of his raven hair – it lacked its usual auburn highlights, soaked as it was. His hand cupped her left breast, evoking more pleasure, and when she quickly glanced down at it she noticed that for the first time since she knew him, his hand was bare of his trademark rings. But then her vision was fogged by the irresistible urge to close her eyes and throw her head back, eliminating all her other senses and letting herself be overwhelmed by the ecstasy vibrating through her whole body.

When she felt the tingling running down her spine and up her legs, all rays of pleasure meeting and concentrating in the center of her being, she knew there was no use in trying to hold anything back. For once, she let herself completely fall apart, her limbs trembling, her moans echoing from the walls of the shower stall and she didn't give a damn who might hear them.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still; no sound was to be heard expect for the constant murmuring of the water and the rushing of the blood in her ears. When she finally mustered enough energy to open her eyes again, she found that Hook's face was once more directly before hers, merely inches apart. He'd risen to his feet and was studying her face intently, obviously pleased by what he saw there. The fine lines around his incredible sea blue eyes crinkled and his right eyebrow rose the tiniest bit.

"You were right, love," he finally said in that dark, rich timbre of his voice that spoke directly to Emma's baser nature.

"About what?" she panted, still breathing heavily.

He cocked his head, looked at her from beneath his decadent lashes, and his full lips twitched into a barely perceptible, yet unspeakably sinful smirk, followed by a deliberate, thorough stroke of his profligate tongue over his bottom lip. "This task indeed didn't require the vantage of having a second hand," he purred in a deeply satisfied tone.

His words from earlier reverberated in her head: Consider it... done. Damn, he had lived up to yet another promise. Before she could reply, he leaned in and kissed her deeply, and she tasted herself on his lips; now this was a sensation she'd never experienced before, and she couldn't believe how highly erotic she found it.

When their lips parted again, Emma couldn't help but grin widely at him. "Told you so," she replied playfully and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close and demanding another kiss which he freely and eagerly granted. Quickly, their kissing intensified again; her hands combed through his hair as her teeth tugged at his lower lip. Hook's right arm wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her close into his hard body while his left elbow and remaining forearm rested against the wall, steadying them.

In spite of just having experienced an incredibly intense climax, Emma craved the ultimate connection again, needing to feel him inside her. She rolled her hips against his, trying to bring her core in contact with his hardness and wordlessly urging him to take possession of her. Sensing her urgency with delight, Hook lifted her left thigh with a firm grip at her knee and wrapped it around his hips, thrusting into her without further preliminaries. She gasped in a deep breath and ran her hands down his back, cupping his muscular backside and pulling him closer, pushing him even deeper inside. Hook felt that her hunger went far beyond being only a physical one and was only too willing to follow her demands.

Weirdly enough, Emma didn't feel the need to close her eyes this time. She needed to be connected to him on every level; their stares locked, and while they were moving steadily together, they never turned their gaze from one another, drowning in their shared passion and intense emotions. Hook's lips were slightly parted and their corners curved into an almost unbelieving, adoring smile which mirrored Emma's. The happiness emanating from them was nearly palpable in the steamy air.

I love you, she thought, Oh God, I love you. And she saw again in his eyes what she'd seen the night before when he'd uttered those three words to her and she'd been too choked up to reply, even though she'd desperately wanted to. He knew. He had to know. And again, he was far from demanding anything from her. That realization made her feel so free and safe like she'd never felt before.

Hook leaned his forehead to hers, their eyes still locked, and they both found their release – once again together. Neither of them uttered a word or a sound. They could see the exact same moment shining in each other's eyes, a connection of souls, and it was the most intimate moment either of them had ever experienced.

After a few seconds, he lightened his grip on her leg and let it slowly, carefully glide down, making sure she was standing securely on her two feet.

"Careful, love. You're trembling," he murmured, his voice bare of any smugness this time; more than anything it was full of wonder and thick with emotions.

Emma swallowed twice and replied, "So are you."

Hook treated her to one of his special Killian smiles and brushed his lips tenderly across her temple. "Finish your bath, Swan," he told her in a teasing tone. "If you continue using up all the water, even my charms might fail to pacify the landlady."

With that, he stepped out of the shower stall, leaving her there alone feeling sated, breathless, and with emotions tugging so heavily at her heart that she felt grounded and safe as if she were able to sail through the stormiest of weathers without ever getting lost again. I love him, she thought once more, and suddenly she felt the need to say the words… knew for certain that she would do so soon. For the moment, though, she was content to keep them to herself, secretly and thoroughly reveling in them and the happiness they evoked, savoring them in her own heart and mind before she would finally share them.

Five minutes later, Emma left the shower and slipped into a fluffy white bathrobe she found hanging on the back of the door. Hook had left the bathroom, so again she went looking for him – not out of panic this time, but simply out of the instinct of new love… the desire to look for the nearness of her new-found significant other, having not gotten her fill of seeing, hearing, or smelling him. She found him in his room, already clad in his black leather pants and, with his back turned to her, rummaging in his closet. For a moment, she allowed herself to admire the sight of his backside in those damn tight pants and the way the muscles of his bare back twitched while he moved. The urge to run her fingers over the scars on his shoulder blade and explore the numerous others that decorated his otherwise perfect body was almost irrepressible. She blushed at the sight of several fresh red marks marring his skin, knowing she was to blame for their appearance.

"I'm still here, and I'm still not going anywhere, Swan," he commented without turning around, and she could hear the mix of slightly self-satisfied amusement and honest emotion in his voice. When he finally faced her, he grinned with a boyish, yet devilish joy, seeing her eyes widen involuntarily at the glorious sight of his bare chest. "And it's bad form to sneak in and stare at an unsuspecting man like that," he added, waving his hand at her. In an almost challenging way, he let the black linen shirt he'd just pulled out of the closet dangle from his gleaming hook.

"Since when are you so coy?" she teased back.

Hook threw the shirt on the bed and sauntered over to her, making sure to put an extra swagger in his step. Emma fastened her eyes on his face and managed only with sheer willpower not to drool. He stopped right in front of her – in the middle of her personal space – and smiled, his eyes sparkling.

"Believe me, I'm anything but that," he replied in his lewd pirate voice, "but as much as your obvious veneration flatters me and I'd love to keep you..." he paused a second to let his tongue dart out and moisten his lips, "...immured here for the rest of forever, I know you'll be wanting to get back to your own place." He lifted the fluffy hood of the bathrobe with his hook and his hand and put it on her wet hair, carefully smoothing it out in a perfect imitation of his gallant gesture back in the Enchanted Forest when he'd helped her cover herself up in those 'borrowed' clothes. "And you should," he added softly. "I wouldn't want to tarnish the credit I've only recently earned with your parents."

Emma smiled. "I have an inkling you won't," she told him, "but you're right. I can't disappear forever." She stood on the balls of her feet for a moment and stole a quick kiss from him. "Although I wouldn't mind being... immured some other time." She enjoyed the effect of her words on him – he seemed almost elated – and started for the bathroom with a regretful sigh. Her hair wouldn't dry itself, after all.

Fifteen minutes later, they were both fully dressed and ready to leave. When Hook asked her if she cared for breakfast, she replied with a cat-like smirk: "I'm completely... sated."

He threw his head back with a wonderful, almost roaring laugh she hadn't heard often from him and replied, "Are you trying to beat me in my very own game, Swan? Now this is really where the fun begins."

They left Granny's through the side entrance, and for one moment Emma was reminded of the occasion almost a year ago when she'd seen Hook emerge from the house with Tinker Bell at his heels. The white hot pang of jealousy she'd felt then had been stronger than any she'd ever felt before, and he'd noticed it, of course. Open book. Worse, he'd done his best to fuel her jealousy by hinting that he and the pretty fairy had engaged in some indecent activities. Bastard, she'd thought back then. Now she knew better – it had been more a question of desperate matters and desperate measures to him; he had simply been trying to lure her out of her rabbit hole by hinting that he might be interested in another woman. She shook her head at herself mentally; oh, all the unnecessary obstacles she'd forced upon them!

A few people nodded to them, and Emma smiled back and returned their good-mornings. Nobody seemed to find anything scandalous at the sight of the Savior and the pirate together, and somehow that made her feel even better. Not that she'd have cared if anybody had thrown them an askew look; she wasn't ashamed of the choice she'd made.

"So, what are your plans for today?" Hook asked nonchalantly while they were walking in the direction of her car, side by side as they'd been doing for ages now.

"First of all, a change of clothes," she replied. "I need to wash out the dust of the Enchanted Forest." He chuckled, and she went on; "Then I'll maybe rest a bit..." A wicked smirk curved his lips, and she slapped his arm with the back of her hand before he could come up with a lewd reply. "Shut up, pirate," she snapped and continued firmly; "Then, I'll check on Henry and talk to Regina. And I have to go to the office, of course, to catch up. I guess I'm still the sheriff."

"Busy day ahead then," he commented dryly without saying what he actually wanted to: and when will we meet again?

Emma noticed his hesitation to let her go and smiled to herself, then up at him. Sometimes he was an open book to her, too. "Come by later?" she asked almost casually. "When I'm done with work we can have dinner."

Hook's face lit up and he tilted his head a little more than usual in a pleased bow, lips twitching into his little smirk. "That would be a pleasure, Your Highness," he commented, trying to keep the teasing tone to his voice to mask his elation a little. He added quickly, "If you ask so nicely." He had his pirate reputation to defend, after all, and wasn't supposed to get all giddy over the mere fact that a lass had suggested to share a meal with him.

Emma laughed and rolled her eyes. "Good." She then surprised him by pressing a quick kiss on his lips before getting behind the helm of that ridiculously tiny metal vessel of hers and driving off. The dreaded, cutthroat pirate captain stood there by the curb for three full minutes with a stupid grin on his face, his ocean blue eyes staring dreamily in the direction where his Swan had disappeared.

When Emma finally got home, the apartment was quiet – about which she was relieved. She still felt that her whole body, heart and soul were in an uproar, all muscles aching, sore in all the right places, and all nerves throbbing and humming from the physical and emotional exhaustion. Although it was a cliché she would've rolled her eyes at not too long ago, she had the weirdest feeling that her feet weren't even touching the ground when she walked. But she wouldn't analyze it; she just wanted to revel in it, to let these precious stolen moments with Hook… Killian soak into her skin and settle around her heart. But only for a moment; she surely didn't want her parents to witness her floating around with that silly grin on her face that refused to be suppressed.

Somehow, she was still way too keyed up to go to sleep although she knew she really needed to get some rest. She decided that hot cocoa might be just the right thing to calm her down, so she prepared herself a mug complete with whipped cream and sprinkled with an absurd amount of cinnamon before surrendering to the kitchen table, still clad in her dusty jeans. With a sigh, she sat down, but instead of drinking, she just stared dreamily at the wall without actually seeing it; all she saw were blue eyes beneath twitching brows, full lips and an expressive hand dancing before her. Emma sighed almost dreamily and dipped her index finger into the cream. When she sucked it off slowly, suddenly very impure pictures were conjured before her inner eye and she blushed crimson red then grinned to herself.

Just in that most inconvenient moment her mother's voice shook her awake from her reverie. "Look who's found her way home. The lost girl."

Emma closed her eyes for a moment then smiled a little sheepishly at Mary Margaret. "Morning," she murmured. "Sorry if I woke you..."

The other woman shook her head. "No, it's okay. I just fed your brother and put him to sleep again."

Awkward, Emma thought and was desperately searching for what to say. "Ah... where's David... dad?" she stuttered.

"Sheriff's office," Mary Margaret replied, and Emma's eyes must have shown her pang of guilt. Her mother smiled. "It's okay, Emma. After the ordeal you went through everybody understands that you need a little... rest." She grinned sardonically and added with a little singsong in her voice: "Or whatever it was you got last night."

Double awkward! Emma's face felt so hot she thought her skin had to be glowing like a spotlight. She shifted uncomfortably on her chair; alas, the unconscious move reminded her very vividly and with a delicious ache of the passionate night and morning she'd just spent with Hook, making the blush on her cheeks spread across her entire face. Damn! She felt like a stupid lovesick teenager who had to confront to her mother after having done it for the first time, being hit by the dreadful realization that mothers just knew. Always.

"Mom... do we need to talk about this?" she asked and drew a deep breath, determined to grab the bull by the horns. "Because it might not be a... one-time thing." She smiled to herself, distracted again for a moment when she thought back to Neverland where she'd declared their heated first kiss exactly that: a one-time thing. She wasn't sure if she'd even actually believed that herself back then, but if she had… boy, had she been wrong. She came back to the present when she saw an unreadable expression on her mother's face. "I know you had your problems with..."

"Emma," Mary Margaret interrupted and went to the kitchen counter to pour herself a glass of water. Her daughter fell silent immediately, curious and also a little anxious as to what she had to say. "You know," she went on, facing Emma, "when I met your father for the first time, I thought he was probably the most handsome, but also the most infuriating person in the realm." She waved her hand to underscore her point. "Or any realm."

Emma looked down at her cocoa mug and smiled fondly, remembering the scene she'd been privy to on her and Hook's crazy journey back in time when she'd actually watched her parents fall in love. And, of course, the parallels between her parents' story and her own hit her like a ton of bricks. The most handsome, but also the most infuriating person in the realm? Yep, that had basically been her Captain - Ah, so you've heard of me - Hook in a nutshell.

Mary Margaret sat down at the table opposite of Emma. "And when we parted ways after the troll bridge and he told me he'd always find me..." she shrugged. "I already liked him a little better, but I still thought he was nothing but a loudmouth who would surely fail to live up to his promises, just like all the others." Emma's eyes darted up to her mother's again, and she heard Hook's voice in her head: So, when I win your heart, Emma... and I will win it... She hadn't been sure what to think about it then, and more than anything else it had frightened the hell out of her.

Mary Margaret knew nothing about this, of course, but she was assuming that her stubborn, suspicious daughter – with walls higher than hers ever had been – had once felt very similarly about a certainly more than loudmouthed pirate like she had about her prince.

The women shared an almost conspiratorial smile and Mary Margaret shrugged again. "But he never gave up on me," she went on in a serious voice. "He did find me, as he'd promised, and he saved me. Again and again."

Emma smiled and heard Hook's voice again, telling her: There's not a day will go by I won't think of you... I came back to save you, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And to him, it had been. Always."And you saved him," she replied.

Mary Margaret nodded and reached out for her daughter's hand to squeeze it. "Emma, when you find someone like that... or when someone like that finds you..." She shook her head. "You don't let them go, no matter what."

Emma was both surprised and happy about how her mother took the news, but maybe it wasn't really news to her. If there was anyone who should be an expert when it came to True Love, it would be Snow White, right? If you love them and they love you, they will always find you. Suddenly, it all fell into place. She drew a deep breath and squeezed her mother's hand back with a smile. "I have no intention to."

Mary Margaret chuckled. "I had my problems with Hook in the past, yes. He's surely a hard piece of work and no angel." At that point, Emma had to lower her eyes and suppress an all-too-knowing grin. "But neither is any one of us," her mother went on seriously, "and the past is in the past. Things have changed. For me, he will forever be the man who saved your father's life when there was nothing in it for him." She grinned. "And the pirate captain who sent me to steal your father's wedding ring." And then, with a very intense look at Emma: "And the man who brought my child back to me, twice..." – she smiled fondly – "…because he loves her probably as much as I do."

Emma had to blink to hold back her tears; dammit, she'd never been the one to weep easily. She smiled and reached out for her mother's hand again. "Thanks, Mary Margaret. Mom." Suddenly, she had to cover a huge yawn, the events of the night and the emotions swirling in her psyche catching up to her all at once. She pushed away her half-emptied mug and rose from her seat. "I think I'm going to take a nap."

Mary Margaret grinned knowingly into her water glass and murmured, "Someone really didn't get much sleep last night..."

"Mom..." Emma moaned and wrinkled her nose in disgust. "This is really not something I want to discuss with my mother."

Mary Margaret raised her hands. "Okay, okay. You're being childish, but... okay."

Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head while she went to the stairs. Mary Margaret listened to her footsteps and suddenly felt a little melancholic for a moment, thinking that she and Emma would never have those girls' chats again like they'd done before the first curse had been broken and they'd simply been best friends, not bonded by blood. But that emotion passed very quickly and her heart overflowed with happiness when she realized that Emma's reaction had been just the same as any average daughter's would've been. Yes, they were finally really and truly mother and daughter now.

I hope nobody is disappointed, but you didn't really think Emma would reciprocate that soon, did you? Or did you expect it? Are you satisfied with her emotional development so far? Your feedback is highly appreciated!

As always, my most heartfelt thanks to my wonderful editor, emeraldromance, who deserves extra hugs this time. Because she puts in blood, toil, tears and sweat every time.

And of course to my muse Silvia - sometimes I feel that I spend more time bouncing ideas with her than actually writing them down, but I think the outcome is so worth it. Omicidiale!