Spoilers for 4x16 if you're not caught up!

He woke first, though it shouldn't have come as a surprise. Killian had always been among the first to rise, long before his centuries aboard the Jolly. As he slowly ebbed back into consciousness, he felt the weight of her on his shoulder. Without opening his eyes, he shifted slightly, his hooked arm tight around her waist, as he pulled her closer. Her scent, sweet, and light, and so her, invaded his senses.

Under normal circumstances, he would relish the feel of her, pressed against him. The warmth of her body seeping into his bones. But something in the loft felt off. An uncomfortable pricking made the hairs on the back of Killian's neck stand on end. The vague sensation that something was wrong. Then, he remembered. The flash of purple light. Another bloody curse or spell or some nonsense. The crushing dread that had consumed him just before the enticing pull of sleep had. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness. That he was powerless to stop whatever evil the Crocodile had in mind for Emma.

His eyes shot open as he bolted upright, suddenly very much awake. His neck was stiff from the awkward position he'd fallen asleep in, but he seemed no worse for wear. Killian clenched his jaw as he took in the space, his arms still protectively wrapped around her. He very much doubted the villains had loosed a sleeping curse without some nefarious motive in mind. Finding no imminent threat, he gently jostled Emma, her head still cradled against his shoulder.

"Swan," He said, the lilt in his voice more pronounced than normal. He cleared his throat and willed himself to sound more awake. "Emma, love, are you alright?"

He felt a shaky panic starting, deep within his chest when she didn't respond. Desperately, he felt for her pulse under her jaw. Killian's eyes darted across her features, her long eyelashes fanned out across her cheek, her lips slightly parted, her cheeks rosy.

If something had happened to her…

He let out a shuddering breath when he found her pulse. Strong, just like her. Tenderly, he ran his fingers through her hair, tucking her silky strands behind her ear. Emma stirred, finally, in his arms, her brows furrowed and a frown on her lips. He closed his eyes in relief and kissed her forehead softly, his lips lingering. Trying in vain to chase away the feeling the mere thought of her absence had left.

"A sleeping spell? Seriously?" Emma grumbled into his shoulder. Her voice thick with sleep and laced with confusion. Killian smirked at her trademark gumption; more than relieved it was still intact. The vice like feeling gripping his heart lessening. Gingerly she raised her head to meet his eyes. Her bright green eyes were still heavy with sleep, her blonde tresses adorably mussed from her nap, however brief. The right side of her face was slightly red and there was a long crease on her cheek from his leather jacket. Gods, she was stunning. She rested her hand on his chest, as if she too were loath to let him go. Her fingers tightening around the lapel on his jacket.

"Aye," Killian said, gently tracing the indent on her cheek with the back of his hand. His smirk softening to a small, genuine smile when Emma leaned into his touch. "Courtesy of Maleficent, I'd wager."

"Henry," Emma said quickly, suddenly tense in his arms. Her eyes wide as she untangled herself from his embrace. "And my parents… God, how long were out?"

"A little more than an hour," Killian said as he pulled himself to his feet with a quick glance at the clock glowing on the stovetop. His jaw was tight as the unspoken words floated between them. That there was no telling how much damage the villains had been able to cause in that time. "Let's find your family, shall we, Swan?" Killian said softly, as he moved purposely towards the door.

"Killian," Emma said, gently catching his elbow. He turned back towards her, his brow raised questioningly. Tightening her fingers around his necklace, she pulled him towards her. Her lips silencing any questions he might have asked. She kissed him slowly, as if she were trying to memorize each and every contour of his lips. Killian pulled her flush against his body and groaned into her mouth with she arched against him. Her hands drifted to cup his face, pulling him close, impossibly closer. Her kiss becoming more demanding, more desperate. His own hand delved into her hair, kissing her for all he was worth, because Gods he loved this woman.

She was his happy ending.

"Far be it for me to complain," Killian said, breathing heavily, warmth coursing through his veins, when they finally broke apart. He rested his thumb against the dimple in her chin, pulling her eyes back to meet his own. "But what was that for?"

"I just, before, when we saw the magic," Emma swallowed thickly, her eyes, still fierce despite the fact they were brimming with tears, darting between his own carefully. "There wasn't time, but I just…"

"I know," Killian said, gently brushing his lips against hers, when her words failed her. "I know, Emma."

He couldn't lose her either.

"Come on," Emma said as she smiled weakly and gave his arm a gentle squeeze. Her voice rough. "We should go…"

With a dull click, the apartment door unlocked and Killian swore he could feel the hope radiating off of Emma. She really had became quite the optimist of late. They let out a collective sigh of relief when Mary Margret and David strode into the loft. The author's page, safely in David's hands. The Queens had failed in that regard at least.

"Emma," Mary Margret said, her voice suspiciously shaky as the door closed with a quiet thud. "We have something we need to tell you. It can't wait."

"Henry?" Emma asked, after swallowing thickly. Fear clearly painted on her face. "Is he—"

"He's okay, we were just with him, but Emma," David interrupted, his words instantly reassuring her, despite his hesitation to continue. "You might want to sit down."

"I'll just—" Killian began motioning towards the door, but Emma captured his hand in hers. She squared her shoulders and jut out her chin, as if she were preparing for battle. Later, he would think that perhaps she had been.

"Stay, please?" She asked, with a small wavering smile.

"Always, Swan," He said, squeezing her hand gently. He smiled at her as they took their place at the table across from Mary Margret and David, braced for whatever news they had to share. He didn't need 300 years of experience to know whatever was coming wasn't good, but he knew, whatever it was, they could handle it.