He sips the coffee that Emma has made him slowly, savoring the taste. There are many delicacies in this realm that, as Killian is coming to find out, are not delicacies at all. Things that were rare in the Enchanted Forest are readily available, and inexpensive. Coffee, for example, and chocolate - both of which cost a pretty penny, neither of which he tasted until he became a pirate captain - are so common that they are found in nearly every home.

(Sometimes the differences between them threaten to overpower the similarities.)

Beside him, Emma reaches for her own mug, her arm brushing against his own and sending jolts of longing through him that are, surprisingly, not at all lessened without his heart racing at her touch.

It is strange, being without a heart. He is so used to it's steady, constant beating that when there is nothing - no rhythmic thumping in his chest, no subtle reminder of his own mortality…that is when he realizes his foolishness. He is now a pawn, his very future in Gold's hands, all because he wanted to be a better man (to think that his own selfishness may hurt the woman he loves is too much).

Emma shifts, sits back next to him, shoulder touching his own. She replies to something David says but Killian does not hear it, distracted by her presence. His guilt weighs him down, makes him uncomfortable in her proximity; the feel of her close to him distracts him (he remembers her eager kisses, the touch of his lips against her skin, remembers the feel of her beneath the palm of his hand and he shudders when he thinks about how much he has lost).

Emma glances over at him, smiles at him, presses closer to him, body warm despite the chill in the air that penetrates the small town, seeping through the walls and sinking into his bones. He smiles back, because he means it, because it makes him smile to know that she cares for him, even if it is misplaced and he is nothing more than a scoundrel and a pirate, always looking for the better offer and the higher bidder, always pursuing what isn't his.

The beauty of being part of this crew is that no one asks Killian for advice and he must only provide it when he feels it necessary. The prince and princess already have ideas, the Evil Queen (who sits, perched on the edge of a chair across the room, frowning at her own drink) constantly offers opinions, and no one cares if he is quiet, his attention drawn inward.

And that is when Killian feels it - the tug and pull, deep within his chest - immediately knows what it is: Gold, calling him to do his bidding. He takes a breath, tries to resist, but then he can feel a tightness in his chest where his heart should be (he can see it in his head, Gold's fist closing around his heart, and he flinches).

He finishes his coffee and stands, taking into the kitchen and resting it in the sink. He pauses for a moment, hand fisted against the counter, collecting himself. He will need to leave, he will need to come up with an excuse (in his head, he hears Gold's voice telling him what to do, offering suggestions for what to say, but he keeps his mouth shut, keeps his lips sealed).

If he leaves Emma tonight, it will be on his terms, not those of that crocodile.

"Killian."

He takes a deep breath before looking up, catching the concern in her eyes (he looks away, Gold's words ringing in his mind, his own emotions swirling in the empty space that should have held his heart). He feels her hand on his arm, and he looks up again.

"Is something wrong?" she asks (her hand burns him through his leather jacket). There is worry on her brow and he hates that he is the cause of it, hates that his own impetuous need to feel whole, to hold her as a whole man, has led them here.

"Just…a bit under the weather, love" he tells her. "I think I might go," he adds, taking a step back, watching her hand fall to the side, her frown growing. "Call me if there is a problem?" He lets that linger in the air between them, a promise to return for aid (a promise he cannot fulfill, he knows, as the Crocodile closes his fist around his heart once more).

He turns away before she can see him flinch in pain (she cannot know, this is not important, she cannot worry about him when there are rumors of a dark curse).

He heads towards the door, brushing past her, eager to get away because every moment here is a struggle within himself, every moment he is tempted to tell her, to let Gold crush his heart as he admits the truth of what will happen if they keep looking towards the Snow Queen and not at their real enemy. He tries not to think about what will happen when he dies, when Emma is left alone again (she has her parents, he tries to remind himself, she has her family).

"I'll walk you to the door," she says, following close behind him.

Gold is angry, he knows that much, can feel it in the throb of his heart, in the whispered words that creep into his mind, creep into the space where his heart should be. He stops at the door to collect his jacket, and before he realizes it, her hands are on him, fingers sliding along his vest and under his coat, her touch sending flames of need flickering along his skin, through his body.

"Sorry you're feeling sick," she tells him, and there's a mischievous glint in her eyes when she leans forward, wrapping her hands around his back and leaning into him.

"I'm sure I'll recover," he says, hearing how tight his voice is (how great the need is within him). But Emma doesn't seem to hear him, because her lips are slanting over his and his entire body is alive in a way he didn't think possible, not without his heart.

It is strange to kiss her without his heart (despite the physical reaction to her, it is as if only part of him is there) but he kisses her anyway, fingers in her hair and mouth hot against hers, nipping against her bottom lip, feeling the way that she melts into him with every passing moment. He can still feel her but he cannot, and the strangeness that divide makes his kisses more fierce, makes him more desperate to feel all of her like he did.

It is Emma who breaks the kiss and looks at him with heavy-lidded eyes and a wry smile, and he can't help but tease her. "Looking to get sick, Swan?" he asks, fingers sliding against her jaw, thumb running over the indent in her chin.

"If it means being able to stay in bed with you and not have to go chase after some creepy Snow Queen…" she says, pressing one final kiss against his lips, "I'll take my chances."

In the space between them, there is nothing but silence as he stares at her, full of love even without his heart. Every moment between them is more than he could have ever dreamed of, and he would tell her everything (if only he could) because that is what she deserves - honesty, integrity, commitment. But he does not, only watches her smile grow as she looks at him in return.

Somewhere in the distance, someone calls for her, one then twice, and finally the moment is shattered. He steps back, hand on the doorknob, and Emma steps back towards the kitchen.

"See you tomorrow?" she asks coyly, and he nods.

"Tomorrow," he agrees, and then he heads out into the cold, the pull of the Crocodile growing stronger.

Not tomorrow, the imp teases, his words echoing in Killian's mind. Remember, pirate, you are my puppet.

"As if I could forget," Killian replies to no one, his words lost in the fierce winter wind.