Of all the apologies Emma had to make in the past day, this one seems to be the hardest. And it should, because her last memory of Storybrooke before she came back was of his devastated face, showing without a single barrier how much she hurt him, took all of his hopes and dreams and crushed it right in front of his eyes.
Her days were haunted by her regret but her nights, God, her nights, were always filled with dreams of their last night together. She would dream of how he'd pressed her into the mattress, taking her and giving her, more-always more. She would dream of his kisses, etched into her skin as their hips moved against each others', his breath enticingly drifting over the place where her neck and shoulder met, making her whine from deep in her throat. She would dream about every promise she whispered to him in the throes of passion, haunting her for having broken them, broken him, broken her.
She'd woken up from her dreams-painful as they were, she would never consider them her nightmares- sweaty and aching and crying, his voice in her head rasping out his love for her. She would fall asleep crying, regret filling her up and coward, coward, coward, echoing all around her.
But she had to do this. She had to apologise to him and hope to God he takes her back, because she needs him. She loves him and she needs him and she was a fool for having waited so long. She latched onto her inner-Henry, trying to hold on to that hope that he would want her back.
Taking in a deep breath, she marched into Granny's Inn, already having talked with Ruby-Emma! You're back! Welcome home!-she knew which room he's staying in. She'd thought he would have moved somewhere else, even if to another room, considering the...activities they'd partaken in, but her pirate was stubborn like that.
She smiled slightly at that. Her pirate.
The guilt festered in her like a disease, preying on her insides. She hesitated not a second before she rapped on his door. No matter how guilty she felt, she had to do this. She loved him and she knows he loves her; he has to forgive her, right?
Right, she decided, because the other option was just too painful.
After having waited a moment too long, she knocked again, her anxiety raising.
"Hold on a bloody minute!" his muffled lilt, full of irritation, came through the door, making her chuckle. "I'm not taking you fishing again, Dav-" he started, opening the door, but he cut himself off when he saw her.
He blinked, thinking his eyes deceived him because it can't be her. She left; he'd watched her leave. And yet here she stood, in all her golden haired, green eyed, sunshine glory, blinding him as she always did. Her mouth-her sinfully, luscious mouth- lilted up in greeting as he stared at her wide-eyed, her eyes lighting up with, dare he hope, happiness?
And the only thing he could do was slam the door in her face. He hadn't expected to see her when he opened the door. In fact, he hadn't expected to see her at all. For her to stand there, in front of him, like in the dreams that tortured him, threw him off guard.
After hoping for her to return for three months, her actually returning should not have terrified him so. But it did, because he couldn't face her again. He couldn't deal with what it meant for him-for them- now that she's back. He'd spent far too long- the three months without her feeling like worse hell than the three centuries he spent in Neverland, filled with rage- trying to deal with her leaving. His heartbreak was still too fresh, too real, too much, for him to face her, face reality.
He wants to rage, wants to shout, wants to just grab her and kiss her and never stop. But what he wants most if for this to be a dream because at least then he'll know how it will end. He'll know it will end.
If she was really here, really back, then he would be too weak to resist her, only to end up broken-hearted after she takes her leave. He couldn't-wouldn't- survive that.
His inner turmoil had made him immune to her incessant knocking, making her worried by the second. Her hope flared the moment he opened the door, only to be put off by the slammed door. She knew he was mad, but she hadn't expected this reaction. But, if anything, Emma Swan was stubborn. She wasn't going to let a small thing like a door, deter her from her task.
So, instead of breaking down the door, as was her first rational thought, she used magic, which should have been her first rational thought.
And that's how she found him curled up into a ball, leaning against the wall next to the door, staring unseeingly ahead of him. Her heart wrenched, making her chest tight and hard for her to breathe. He was having a freaking panic attack because of her.
He never believed that I would come back, she thought to herself, her hand resting over her heart. The man who believed in me so relentlessly, the man who loved me, stopped believing that I would come back. What have I done?!
She barely felt the tears sting her eyes, as she knelt next to him, coaxing him to look at her, to breathe, to do anything expect this!
It took him a moment to finally realise that she was there-really there- his eyes going as wide as saucers as he leaped up from the ground faster than a frog would, trying to get as far away from her an possible.
And it hurt. God, did it hurt. But she had to put aside her own feelings for now and concentrate on his. She needed to correct her mistakes, make him see how sorry she was, how wrong she was, how much she loved him.
"Killian," she began, getting up, the tears flowing freely now. "Killian, I'm so sorry," she cried, throwing her arms around him.
He stiffed, his breath stuck in his throat because she was real and she was hugging him and how much had he craved her warmth when the nights became too cold? His heart stuttered, her scent over whelming him. He just barely heard her apologies, too lost in the feel of her body against his finally.
"Killian," she rasped, her voice thick with tears, cupping his cheek. "Please say something," she begged, looking into his eyes, dragging him back to reality.
He wordlessly lifted his hands-Oh my God, he has both his hands - and pulled her own away from him. She gaped at both of his hands, eyes wide in disbelief. "You-you have your hand back," she stated, her gaze flitting from his hands to his face. She grinned through her tears, happy for him and moved to embrace his again, but he stepped back, making her freeze in her place.
"Emma," he breathed, swallowing thickly. "What are you doing?" And he sounded so wrecked that her heart split into two, each bloody side throbbing in pain for him.
"I'm back," she allowed, not knowing what else to say. "I am so sorry I left," she apologised, stepping towards him again, but his wariness evaded off him in waves, so she stopped before she got too close, even though all she wants his to hold him and never let go. "I was stupid and selfish and I am so sorry. You were right I was running away, I was a coward, but I'm back now," she rushed through, trying to make him understand. "I'll never leave again, I promise. Please-just- Say something," she begged, her hands clenched together.
He stared at her, his eyes dark and a storm of emotions, swirling and crashing and so obvious to her, how much pain he was in. And she did that. She put that pain there. His Adam's apply bobbed up and down as he gulped, jaw clenching with restrained emotion. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to say what he needed to say without falling apart.
"You should leave, Emma," he choked out, his words making her heart stop.
"W-what?" she stumbled. "No, no, no. I'm not leaving," she shot out defiantly.
He gritted his teeth, cursing her stubbornness. "I'm not leaving. I made that mistake once. You told me I should come to you, so I'm here!" she exclaimed. "I'm, I'm here, Killian," she said softly.
"Emma..." he growled, his eyes stinging.
"No! I'm not leaving. Not until you say something!" she exclaimed. "Killian, please," she began, moving towards, not stopping until he was backed up against the wall. "Please, say something."
Her eyes held his, grounding him, making it impossible for him to move. He stared with wide-eyes fear because this woman had the ability to completely destroy him and how did he get here?!
She delicately cupped his face in her trembling hands, murmuring her apologies, until she stopped, capturing his lips with hers in a searing kiss that made his knees buckle and heart somersault and they were softer than he could ever imagine, sweeter than honey and warmer than sunshine on bare skin. He revelled in her touch, her lips moulding into his as their tongues engaged in a tango and he just let go, let himself enjoy this after going so long without. His head leaned against the wall as he let out a soft groan, threading his hands into her straw-spun hair, tilting her head to kiss her deeper.
Her answering moan, however, broke him out of his reverie and he pulled back suddenly, startling her. She still had her eyes closed, her forehead leaning on his as they both panted, trying to catch their breath. He let his hand fall beside him, clenching them so he won't feel tempted again. He couldn't do this, he couldn't just go back like everything was normal.
"That was..." she trailed off, smiling, her eyes still closed.
"Emma, you should go," he said, sighing as he pushed her away gently.
Her eyes snapped open, confusion marring her face as she stammered. But he didn't have the heart to let her have false hope about things between them. There was too much water under the bridge and too much to be resolved, that starting something would be the worst decision. They should talk about it, he knew, but all he could think of right now was that he needed to get away from there- from here- and get some much needed air, because all his emotions seem to be suffocating him.
He moved past her, grabbing his coat. "Killian, please, don't do this," she pleaded, her voice breaking towards the end.
His eyes clenched shut at the pain in her voice. "I'm glad you're back, Swan," he mumbled, leaving her alone in the room.
She watched him leave, felt the heaviness settle in her heart as she did, throat closing up, tears wetting her cheeks. This is what he must have felt. Only a thousand times worse, she realised, because unlike her, he would always come back.