It was twenty-two hours to Mary Margaret and David's little duplex in the suburbs of Boston, but Emma and Killian were at least ten minutes late getting on the road. It was something about the difficulty she was having stepping out of his hold, or winding her fingers out of his hair. He seemed to be suffering with her; the moment she reversed them out of the driveway his hand opened on the center console between them. It was a clear invitation, one she took after tugging off her glove with her teeth. She didn't care about the freezing air the second her fingers laced with his, much less the fact that the next time she stood up it'd be nighttime.

She learned to care around her eighth hour on the road, where even his thumb running across her knuckles wasn't distracting her like it had before, but there was nothing she could do about it just yet. Emma had made this trip enough times to know which rest stops to avoid and which ones to flock toward, and the next good one wasn't for another forty miles or so.

Emma couldn't stop herself from wondering what it would be like if Mary Margaret and David been with them in the car. Mary Margaret's eyes would go wide, as if she was seeing things, she'd say something like I knew it and then the accusations would begin. David would look them over, albeit more quietly, and he'd give Emma his best impression of Granny's laser-eyed stare. Her family loved her, and they loved Killian, but together? She'd never let anyone's imagination run this far.

Killian had done his best to keep them both awake until the sun was high enough to do that job for him. It didn't always mean talking — sometimes he asked how her ankles felt (sore, but she was downplaying it) or if she wanted to stop and eat (when he was driving, he could pull over whenever he wanted) but other times he just twisted her hand to examine the tattoo on her wrist, or stared out the window. It was, in essence, just like last year's ride home, except this time she hadn't resisted the urge to reach out for him. She'd let herself do it.

It was incredible how much difference five linked fingers could make, how the heel of a palm pressed against hers could feel. She'd fallen asleep next to him nearly every night of the trip, but the sun was up now. The the choice to take hold of his hand was a very deliberate step, and Emma was aware of it every second their fingers were joined together. It felt right that they were backtracking to the east coast, seeing as she'd been fighting the pull to him for a solid year.

Killian squeezed her hand when the radio started to buzz with static, letting go afterward to find something clear. Every so often they hit parts of the state that had nothing to offer, and they filled the air with conversation, or a work call that needed to be made. Emma made hers quickly, if only so she could force him to put his on speaker and hold the phone between them.

"You know, I was starting to think you lost my number."

David sounded a bit far away at first, as if he was outside, but the sounds of silverware and clinking plates were close. Emma realized it was dinnertime back in Boston and flashed her eyes to Killian's, grimacing at their timing.

"I missed you too," Killian responded smoothly. He made it seem like they'd never left, like Mary Margaret and David were expecting them at the table. "And Happy New Year."

David made an unimpressed noise. "You're not calling to let me know you'll be late, are you? I gave Emma very specific directions —"

"She's got them right in front of her." Killian made his voice placating, like he was talking to a child, and Emma couldn't stop the little laugh that bubbled up from her throat. They hadn't so much as looked at his directions since leaving, and didn't plan to until they hit the rest stop. "Rather, I should say I've got them in front of me. Emma's refused to hand over the wheel until nightfall.

"Until the gas gauge says empty," Emma corrected him, aware that the his suggestion was coming much quicker than the latter. "Happy New Year, David. You save me any cake?"

"We didn't have cake this year."

"What? Why?"

"Because there weren't four people here to eat it. Mary Margaret's waiting for the two of you to get back before we celebrate, since you two forgot."

"What makes you think I forgot, mate?"

Emma blushed, eyes focusing on the license plate of the SUV in front of her as Killian teased him. They had yet to discuss anything that had happened between her skating mishap and now, though. She wasn't about to do it on speakerphone.

"We didn't interrupt your dinner, did we? I know it's got to be harder eating with the rash."

"Actually, I think I beat it," David answered proudly. "I'm hoping I beat it, at least. Mary Margaret isn't good with the electric razor."

An offended hey made its way through Killian's phone, signaling Mary Margaret's approach.

"He didn't tell me anything about switching the blade beforehand, he just said to switch it on and take my time!" Mary Margaret argued, seemingly pulling the phone closer so they both could hear her case.

Listening to the both of them argue about his shaving routine made her miss home terribly. She wanted to be there with them, feet curled under her chair at the table while she argued Mary Margaret's case to annoy David. The warm lamp light in the kitchen would glow down while they finished dinner, making it seem like the sun hadn't set on them yet, and if it was chilly she'd warm herself up by shoving her fingers under the hot sink water that Killian was using to do the dishes. He'd wash and she'd dry while her brother and his wife put the food away, and then the four of them would tumble over to the couches to argue about the night's movie choice. Maybe it didn't sound as remarkable as a cross-country trip into Canada did, but given the choice she'd pick home every time. The next twelve hours of her life couldn't pass soon enough.

Emma shifted lanes and cut around the car in front of them, chasing the sun set filtering through the snowy trees. Killian spent a little time asking about their return to work and whether they'd both be back on schedule at the start of the week, but after a few minutes he seemed to sense the ache in her chest.

"Hang on a minute, Dave," Killian said, interjecting himself in the middle of David running through their upcoming week. "Emma's asking for the phone. She wants to speak with the both of you."

She hadn't so much as lifted her hand from the wheel, but she gave him a grateful, lingering look as she wrapped her hand around the phone and pressed it to her ear.

"Hey," she said quickly, picturing the confusion and amusement on the other line. "Listen, we really are making good time. I dragged myself out of bed before six so we could hit the road."

"Six, huh? You must really miss us."

Emma's smile turned softer for a moment, even though he couldn't see it. "I might have…just a bit."

"Only just a bit?"

"Killian took it a lot harder than I did. The poor guy cried himself to sleep the first night in the car."

"It's true," Killian agreed, with a lofty nod that David couldn't see. "I tried to stifle my tears into the pillow, but Emma was too close to hear."

David wasn't having any of it, but she could hear a smile in his voice that hadn't been there when he first picked up. He'd missed them too.

Her chilly hands grasped impatiently at the handle of the gas nozzle, tapping to keep warm while she watched money drain out of her savings account and into her gas tank. Killian had offered to pay several times, just like he'd offered to take the wheel, but she'd insisted, and now she was paying for it with frozen fingertips.

Or she was, until Killian came back from the convenience store with two paper cups of coffee in his hands. He slid in front of her and pulled her fingers away from the nozzle so she could take the cups from him. She would have resisted, only the steam rising out of the holes in the lid was too enticing to resist. Emma pulled the seat back for him while she waited, trying her best to adjust the mirror to where he usually kept it. He had to fix it again when he sat down next to her, but the tiny smile that pricked at the corner of his mouth let her know he'd noticed.

Maybe it was the coffee making her more playful, or maybe it was just knowing that sunrise would find them home. Emma didn't care about putting a name to her happiness for the moment — it was enough to hear the hiss of protest he made when her cold fingers snuck up under his glove.

Holding hands with him wasn't bold by anyone's standards, but it was all Emma needed. She'd squeeze her fingers into the spaces between his when the radio station started cutting out. He'd squeeze back every time they passed another sign that listed the miles until home, reminding her of what she was fighting to stay awake for. Emma hadn't said it in so many words, but she had a feeling he knew that her stubbornness came from the same place it always did — she wanted to walk through the door of somewhere she belonged and stay a while.

It was so gradual that she almost missed it, but the scenery started to flatten out around them. Hour by hour the horizon line dropped until it was just sloping hills pushing them up and down. It was hell on their gas mileage, but David's vehicle had seen much worse than this.

"Just a few more hours left, love." Killian's fingers tightened around hers a little more firmly, startling her out of a daze she wasn't aware she'd slipped into. She'd been counting on the glow of the headlights to keep her up, but even they were fading into the night ahead of them. She should have let him drive first.

"Do you have any coffee left?"

He shook his head, smiling without taking his eyes from the road. "You drank it all."

She leaned her head back against the headrest and looked at him pointedly, trying to act unappreciative of his tone. The thing was, he was right. Emma had eaten through most of the snacks they'd packed for the trip, and she'd drank all the caffeinated beverages they had. He'd offered to pull off the highway and find a place that was still open, but she refused to lose a second of the momentum they'd hit on the road. She liked it like this; him, her and the left lane in front of them, so she hunkered down in her seat and let her gaze drift far ahead.

The pad of Killian's thumb stroked across the side of hers every few seconds, keeping time with whatever was playing on the radio. She knew what he was doing and fought against it as long as she could, but then he started humming along with the radio, and turned the heat up in the car.

"What?" He'd said innocently, feigning confusion at her glare. "You're cold, Swan."

She followed his eyes down to her torso. Admittedly, she was a little curled in on herself. Emma made a point of stretching her legs away from her body as he turned his attention back toward the road, ignoring his chuckle. She wasn't tired. She wouldn't let herself be tired, not when they were so close.

Killian picked up on it eventually, after she didn't relax back down into her former position. She felt it when he started checking on her more frequently than usual, when it wasn't just him trying to catch her with drowsy eyes.

"What makes you so eager to stay awake this time?" He asked her, tapping her knuckle with his finger. "I know you didn't want my coffee because of the taste."

"That last sign said Vermont, right?"

"It did."

"That's why." Vermont and New Hampshire separated them from Massachusetts, two slices of countryside that would take four hours to cut through, tops. They had a ways to go until Vermont, she knew that, but home didn't feel like something on the other end of a map now that they were back in the United States.

"And?" He prompted, sensing there was more.

"And I guess I just want to be up when we turn on the street and pull up to the house," she shrugged, wishing it didn't sound so strange being spoken out loud. She tried to find words to better explain herself, but Killian seemed to beat her to the punch.

"I had no idea you missed Boston so much."

He'd strung her thoughts together before she even recognized them as her own. Emma opened her mouth to say no, she'd had a good time, but she paused when she realized how true it was.

"Neither did I," she countered softly, thinking of all of the one-way trips she'd taken in her life, how she'd been alone and quiet in the back seat for every single one of them.

She was quiet a long moment, and then he pulled his hand away from hers, fingers scrabbling along the backpack behind his seat in search of the pocket. "Reach down behind my seat and grab the CD case, will you? I can't get to it ."

As often as she spent time with David and Mary Margaret, she was almost never in his car. David didn't spend much time in it, either; his squad car was his main vehicle. Half of their yearly trip Tradition was spent in the Range Rover itself, with all it's quirks and surprises, so A soft case full of unmarked, randomly colored CDs was the least surprising thing she could have dug up from under the seats.

"They're all out of order," he commented, quickly looking at her. "But there's one that's got a bit of a scratch on the left side."

She found it near the end of the case; it had a huge scratch on it's left side, one that surely had a story behind it, but she just handed it to him wordlessly, curious to hear what it would play.

"What's on this?"

"How about you play it and find out?"

Emma waited to see if he'd say more, but evidently he'd been serious. She pushed the disc into the CD drive and was immediately rewarded with the sharp snap of drums, a loud guitar and a heavy bass line. Whether on purpose or not, he'd picked something loud enough to help keep her awake, and it had her grinning all the way through the track list.

They ended up letting it play three times through before either of them realized how long it had been on. Emma switched off the volume and let the hum of the tires on the road take over. In the quiet, she realized how close they were getting, how familiar everything was becoming. They were still close to an hour ahead of the sun, but that didn't matter when she saw the empty roadside markets selling firewood and straw Salem witch-scarecrows, or the signs pointing them to the historic site of the Boston Tea Party. Had she been driving, she would have started speeding a little, but Killian's patience didn't make her antsy.

Downtown Boston was at the top of the next highway sign the car passed under. Killian had shifted over just in time for them to pass under the glow of a tall green streetlamp; it cast just enough light for her to see the weary excitement on his face. He looked bone-tired, probably ready to fall through David's front door and right onto the couch, but he didn't mention a word, not even when their hands reluctantly parted to reach for their luggage instead.

Killian locked the car manually, so the horn wouldn't honk, and they both took care in shutting their doors as quietly as possible. The click of the lock and the steadiness of the ground beneath her feet brought the realization to Emma in full force. They'd been more than halfway across the continent twenty-four hours ago, and now they were home. She gave a fond smile to the muddy grass next to the downspout off the garage wall, the uneven slates of path leading up to the house, even the creaky screen door. The house looked exactly as it had when they left, to the point where it was hard to believe she'd been gone at all.

It took a minute for Emma to realize Killian was waiting for her to open the door. Emma blushed as she dug through the front and side pockets of her backpack and hugged it to her middle once she had the key free, too lazy to sling it back across her shoulders when it had so little left to travel.

"Should we bring anything else inside?"

Killian shook his head at her whisper. "We'll get it later this morning."

"This afternoon, you mean," Emma countered, twisting the handle gingerly.

"You knew what I meant." She bumped his side with her shoulder, trying to hold on to the last of her energy, but then she noticed the light in the kitchen was on. Sure enough, as soon as she focused on listening to the inside of the house instead of the man next to her she could hear the quiet work of a spatula against a pan, and could smell something light and buttery in the air.

Emma turned her eyes to Killian's and followed his down to the couch on the other side of the room. David lay there with a blanket haphazardly tossed around his waist, arm stretched toward the remote and head tucked into his chest. He'd waited up for them, and that realization hit Emma so hard she clutched her backpack to keep from dropping it. Killian went for her hand for a moment before seeing the white knuckle grip and faltered. She missed that too, because Mary Margaret had wandered out to greet them.

"Hey, you two."

Emma whispered her fond hello, prying her fingers away from her bag one by one. She made it just in time to give Mary Margaret a hug, to marvel at the fact that she seemed totally awake.

"He tried staying up as long as he could," she explained, hugging Killian just as fondly. "The only reason I'm awake is because this kid felt like dancing around five thirty. How was the drive?"

"Long and uneventful," Killian summed up, cutting a glance to Emma over the woman's shoulder. "Shall I go and wake up the sleeping beauty?"

"You might as well. He was only down here to keep me company," she smirked, pulling back to look at them both. She was searching for something, and it seemed like she found it after only a few seconds of quiet. "Are either of you hungry?"

Emma shook her head as Killian answered no. She might have had a different answer if she wasn't so close to sleep — she'd finally allowed herself to feel tired somewhere between their exit and the driveway — but she thought a nice brunch might do the trick.

Killian moved over to David, who groaned in protest even as he realized who was shoving his shoulder. Emma and Mary Margaret shared a look at the sleepy exchange between the two men, who seemed to be postponing their greeting for a time after sunrise, but Emma cut her off before any questions could be asked.

"I'm probably going to head up, just for a few hours."

"You can sleep longer, you know."

"I know. I just don't want to miss my first day back," she yawned, ducking her head into her own shoulder. She knelt down, a subtle invitation for Mary Margaret to get back to whatever she was cooking, and only let herself peek over at the two men on the couch once she'd dug out her phone charger. Killian seemed to be teetering on the edge of letting himself sit down and waiting until David peeled himself out of his seat.

His eyes found their way over to her long before she reached the stairs, and Emma felt herself pause on the first step up toward her room. Questioning eyes and roved over hers, sleep-soft and vulnerable, but then David stood to block her view.

"Glad you're back, Emma," he mumbled, passing through to the kitchen to kiss his wife goodnight and then moving up the stairs to the right of her. "Feel free to wake me in the afternoon."

"Will do," she replied, not taking her eyes off Killian's. Had Mary Margaret not been in the kitchen, she would have come back downstairs, but things were different here. They weren't in Tradition anymore.

"Need a pillow?"

He nodded, taking the hint, and followed her up the stairs to her closet. Emma dug out a well-loved blanket and uncovered pillow and went to set them in his arms, but found him too close to take them properly. He wrapped his arms lazily around her and the bedclothes, resting his cheek against her hair, and let out a sigh so slow she thought it might have turned into a yawn.

"I'll see you when we wake up?" He asked quietly, moving back out toward the hall. Emma wasn't sure why he was asking, but she nodded anyway.

"If you're here."

He smiled, looking almost goofy from the openness of it, and then he left her to fall asleep. Emma managed it just before the sun began to rise.