A/N: Thank you to all you wonderful readers who have found a place for Hollow Beginnings in your hearts. I continue to be floored by the positive responses. Thank you to Yettoseeyoufail – essentially the step-mom to this fic (she's not at all evil, I promise) and all the others who take time to review and leave me their thoughts. I love reading your theories! Hollow was also recently rec'd by shulesaddict77 (a fabulous writer – go read her stuff after you're done here)…many thanks!

Just a disclaimer – this is in no way intended to be prescriptive for how to care for concussions. While I did my research, I am not a doctor. Just saying! ;)

Chapter 14

Lowering Walls

As soon as we stepped over the threshold of the apartment, Mary Margaret's maternal instincts kicked into high gear. I'd barely settled Killian on the couch before she appeared with a pair of David's sweats and one of his long-sleeved Henley shirts. "These might be a bit big, but they should be comfortable," she stated as she handed them over.

Killian barely hid his disdain for the lumpy fabric, grumbling, "Generally speaking, when its comfort I seek, I simply don nothing at all."

I shot him a look which I hoped conveyed I would've smacked him if he wasn't injured. Mary Margaret's cheeks flushed. "Be that as it may, this is all I can offer you for now. Tomorrow we'll go get more of your things. Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?"

"I'm not sure I could stomach much of anything at the moment," he paused, a bit of his normal mischief lighting his expression before his gaze swept over me. "But I might enjoy some of those delicious tacos later on."

Mary Margaret's entire face flamed red. I did a poor job at hiding my immediate smirk. Serves her right! Schooling my face, I replied. "We're not having tacos again. Not for a while." He merely shrugged before yawning. His eyes were a bit duller than usual. "Maybe you should try to sleep a little," I suggested.

"Perhaps I shall, love." He looked around the apartment in silent consideration.

"You can have my room." I stood quickly and waited for him to join me. I led him up the stairs and into the second bedroom. He set the borrowed clothes on my bed and perused the room quietly. It was strange having him there, but at the same time it felt incredibly right. "I just changed the sheets this morning," I stated.

"And why's that love; have a bit of an inspired evening?" His mouth curved up into his trademark smirk, though some of the usual heat was missing.

"Save the flirting for when you can do something about it. Do you need anything before I go?"

"So you'll just abandon me to my slumber, is that it, Swan?" His words were playful, but a distinct feeling of unease pulsed across our link.

Stepping fully into the room, I shut the door behind me and approached him, laying my hand against his cheek. "Hey, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing," he lied. My eyes narrowed and he scoffed. "Well, I was recently the victim of head trauma."

"Can the sarcasm," I muttered. "You're hiding something."

"Like what?" He challenged.

"I don't know. You tell me." I lifted my brow. Killian's face tightened before he sighed loudly. He was acting like a grouchy child. I wasn't sure if I found it endearing or annoying.

"Perhaps I find it a touch unsettling knowing someone bested me unaware," he admitted.

Definitely endearing, I thought as my face relaxed. "I'm sure they already asked you at the hospital, but what exactly do you remember?"

"Not a bloody thing that would be useful," he growled.

"Humor me."

He sighed again. "I assisted your mother with the procurement of packing containers before planning to return to the Jolly for a bit of a lie down. I recall making it as far as the square in front of the docks before my memory fades away entirely. When next I woke, I was being manhandled by that preening buffoon parading himself as a healer."

I bit down to stop my grin at his description of Whale. It was fairly obvious that Killian did not find the situation at all funny. I stepped forward and gave him a chaste kiss. "It's like you said; we'll figure this out." I started to step back but his arms caught me and he drew me in for another kiss, this one a bit longer. I pulled back reluctantly. "Get some rest." He started to nod, but his eyes pinched with pain. I held the sides of his face with my hands and met his stare. "No quick movements," I reminded him. His acknowledgement came with his exaggerated blink before he moved toward the bed.

Mary Margaret was waiting for me at the table – cocoa at the ready – when I returned downstairs. As much as I enjoyed the chocolate drink, I was beginning to dread its appearance as it was becoming synonymous with a long talk. I thanked her and took a seat in one of the chairs, sipping from the rustic mug and waiting for her to open the conversation that was obviously on her mind.

"I want to ask you about something, but I'm not sure how to start," she finally began.

"This sounds serious," I commented. I had a feeling I wasn't going to like what she had to say – judging by the cautious restraint brimming in her eyes – but I couldn't guess what it was.

She folded both of her hands on the table top and gathered her resolve. "After I called Charming, I came back to Hook's room, but you two were still in the midst of a private discussion. I accidentally overheard part of it, and it has me feeling pretty concerned."

I felt my spine stiffen though I was careful not to allow my face to react. My mind scrambled through my conversation with Killian; there were any number of things she could've heard, though I supposed some would've been more upsetting than others. "What did you hear?"

"He said you two are bonded. As in a magical bond?" My silence was all the answer she seemed to need. "Oh Emma, why didn't you tell us?"

"Because it was enough of a challenge just to admit to you that I have feelings for him. How would you have reacted if I told you I tied my soul to his, feeling the way you did about him just a week ago?"

"I would've tried to understand," she asserted.

"Tried being the operative word," I sighed. "I'm not upset that you know. Actually, I'm relieved. But I couldn't tell you before; not when I was still trying to figure things out for myself. So yes, we're bonded."

"What exactly does that mean?" She asked. I hesitated too long. "I just want to help, Emma. Please."

I considered her request, wondering if it was kinder to give in to her obvious desire to help me carry my burdens or to keep her in the dark of the serious implications this bond held. I was so used to going it alone; I'd even told her as much before. But maybe now was the time to forge those familial ties she had never meant to break in the first place.

Taking a deep breath, I spoke in a rush; "It's a soul bond. We can feel each other's emotions, and we feel driven to be around each other."

"That doesn't sound too bad," she commented carefully. "You do have feelings for him, so hopefully you don't mind?"

"I love him," I blurted out. "I do…I'm not sure exactly when it started or how long it will last, but it's true." Her face broke into a beaming smile. She opened her mouth to speak – no doubt to shower me with her glad tidings – but I cut her off. "When one of us dies, so does the other. Gold told us our life forces are dependent on each other."

And just like that her face fell. "And someone is out to hurt Hook…" My mother was fast, I'd give her that.

I expected her to console me; to backpedal from her initial attempt at laying guilt at my feet for not being entirely honest, but she surprised me. Her posture straightened and the confidence and optimism of her royal bearing shifted onto her expression. "I won't let that happen. We'll figure this out. Together."

"Thanks," I conceded, and meant it. Looking across the table at her…at my mother…I was taken aback by the surrealism of our situation. What would our relationship have been like if our paths had not been cursed? Would I still be reluctant to confide in her, or would we have truly been as close as best friends. "Sometimes I wonder what my life would've been like if I'd grown up in the Enchanted Forest," I spoke softly. If I hadn't grown up feeling entirely broken.

She was quiet as she gathered her thoughts; an unspoken sadness shadowing her eyes. "After we learned about the curse, when I knew I'd have to leave Charming and my home behind, I used to lie awake for hours imagining what our futures would be like or what could've been if only the curse never came." She lifted her gaze to mine. "You were never meant to be alone…in either scenario. Things didn't turn out as I'd planned." She paused, her lips curved slightly. "I certainly never expected my daughter to fall in love with a pirate – though, I'm not as shocked as I should be. But Emma, even when I couldn't remember you, I loved you. So much."

I listened to every word she said, but found them hard to hear. A part of me realized how similar this conversation was to the talk I'd had with Henry just yesterday, only the roles were reversed. A renewed shame washed over me. Had I condemned my son to feeling just as lost, just as broken as I had?

Mary Margaret shifted in her seat, seeming to physically transition away from our heavy topic. Maybe she sensed how uncomfortable it made me, or maybe she felt that way herself. Her falsely chipper smile masked any lingering pain. "It's been awhile since we got home. Do you want to check on Hook or should I?"

"I'll go," I replied, glad to have my own excuse to change gears. I moved toward the stairs before making a sudden decision. Turning back, I walked to Mary Margaret and hugged her, just for a moment. I didn't say anything. I didn't have to. When her hand came up to rub my back, I knew it was enough; I knew she understood.

"Go on. Check on your pirate," she laughed as she pulled away. Her real smile lit up her voice.

Killian was awake when I entered the bedroom though he remained stretched out on the bed. "You're awake," I commented dumbly.

He turned his head to look at me. The tight lines around the edges of his eyes told of his discomfort. "Haven't slept yet."

"Headache?" I whispered.

"Aye, love. What I wouldn't give for a bottle of really good rum."

I laughed and stepped further into the room toward my vanity. "Well, in this realm we have something better for a headache." I rifled through the top drawer and produced a bottle of Tylenol. "These are pills for treating pain. I'll get you some water," I started to say, but he cut me off.

"No need, love. I'll come with you. I can't bloody well sleep while my head is so ill-tempered." He shifted his legs over the side of the bed and began to push himself up, groaning slightly at the effort.

I placed a hand on his chest, stopping his ascent. "You need to keep resting." I plumped his pillows and urged him to sit back against them. "Stay here and I'll be back with some water and some ice for your head."

"I hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go," he called a bit half-heartedly as I departed. I shook my head; first the sexting, now pick up lines? Just who had he been spending time with?

Returning a few minutes later, I found Killian lounging back against the pillows, leafing through a magazine I'd left on my nightstand. "How to drive your man crazy in only five steps," he read aloud. I yanked the magazine from his hand – realizing he'd found an article about giving blow jobs – and stuffed it into one of my dresser drawers.

"You're supposed to be resting, not reading," I chastised. Handing him the glass of water and the pills, I waited until he took the medicine before situating the ice pack behind his head. He sighed and let his eyes fall shut. Seeing his relief – however small – caused my heart to melt.

"You don't have to be so tough all the time," I heard myself whisper.

One of his brilliant blue eyes opened to assess me, intrigued and incredulous all at the same time.

"It's just that you know I can feel what you're feeling, too. You don't have to put on an act with me. I know you're hurting."

He smiled sweetly. "Ah love; just having you near lessens the pain."

Whatever I might have responded with was interrupted by the sudden appearance of my father in the doorway. "Glad to see you're alright, Hook. Even if you're not looking so hot," he commented.

"Why Dave, I didn't know you cared so much," Killian retorted, fluttering his eye lashes. "And I am too still bloody hot," he mumbled under his breath.

David grinned. "Of course you are; you're wearing my clothes."

I rolled my eyes, sure I was missing some sort of inside joke. Sometime in Neverland, I'd noticed a shift in their relationship. It had started after Killian saved David's life and progressed from there. Their banter hadn't changed, but the intent had. What used to sound like thinly-veiled disdain had grown into a mutual respect covered by teasing barbs.

Killian opened his mouth – likely preparing another well-aimed mark – but I interrupted. "Alright. It's time for the patient to get some rest."

"I brought dinner, if you feel up to it?" David asked Killian.

"Perhaps later, mate."

David nodded before leaving us along again. He didn't even level a warning look, my conscience pointed out. Was this progress, or did he think Killian was harmless in his current condition? Absolutely not.

"I think your parents are growing fond of me, Swan," he winked.

They're not the only ones. "I'll be back to check on you in a little while. Try to sleep."

"Aye love, I will," he replied, his voice already sounding a bit languid and heavy.

Switching off the light, I gently closed the door and stepped into the hall. I pulled out my cell and dialed Henry's number, beyond glad that I'd gotten a phone for him at the same time I'd purchased Killian's. I really didn't feel up to another talk with Neal, even if it did seem like he was backing off.

Henry handled the disappointment of not going sailing with amazing ease, even going so far as to order me to "….tell Hook I hope he feels better soon." It warmed my heart and fueled my decision to give this thing with Killian a full chance.

David was already seated with Mary Margaret when I got back downstairs. He gestured to the pizza resting in front of them. "Hungry?"

"Thanks," I said, grabbing a slice and sliding into a chair. I silently mused over what Killian's reaction would be when he tried pizza.

"What did you find at the cannery?" I asked.

"Nothing much. Just the things the report mentioned. I don't think it was a forced entry though; at least, there were no signs of one."

"And the surrounding area? Killian said the last thing he remembers is walking in the square by the docks."

"Clean. But interestingly, I spoke with the paramedics and they said he was found in the alley running by the hardware store."

My heart thudded. The hardware store? Really? It could not be a coincidence that the two locations in which Killian and I had furthered our relationship were suddenly hot beds of activity.

"And there are still no witnesses?"I asked, disbelief ringing in my voice. Seriously, the rumor mill in this town was one for the record books but no one had seen anything when it came to a pirate – in full costume – being attacked in broad daylight?

"None that have come forward," David responded. From his tone, I gathered his mind was thinking along the same lines as mine.

"I'm going to ask around tomorrow, see if I can get any more information," Mary Margaret offered.

"If you think it will help," I added. In truth, if anyone in Storybrooke could get people to spill their guts it would be my mother.

Considering the subject temporarily closed, David continued filling me in on the rest of his day before helping Mary Margaret clean up from dinner. I considered everything he'd said combined with what Killian could remember and could only come to one conclusion: someone was up to something involving Killian – and possibly me, too – and whoever it was, they'd done a fairly good job at covering their tracks thus far.

It was not a good feeling. I had suspected Killian was a target, but the shady circumstances surrounding his attack set off both my superpower and my concern as someone who loved him. Making my way back upstairs, I thought about what my next step should be. Obviously I would check out each location myself, but it would also be helpful to compile a list of potential suspects. We'd need Killian's help for that.

I crept into the room as silently as possible. Killian lay on his side with his hand tucked under his head. His lashes made black crescent moons across his cheeks. He'd left the Henley shirt unbuttoned, revealing a thatch of dark hair, though it was far less indecent than usual. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I ran my fingers through the hair at his temples before leaning down to kiss him lightly on the mouth. His eyes opened just as I leaned my head away. "Hey," I whispered.

He blinked several times in quick succession. "Swan," he stated, his voice a bit rough.

"Sorry to wake you. How are you feeling?"

"Like I sustained a very hard blow to the back of the head." He rolled onto his back. "And you, love?" His hand rested over his heart. "You've something weighing on your mind."

"Don't worry about me," I deflected.

"Not possible. Come on, Swan. Out with it." He pushed himself into a seated position.

I assessed him carefully, trying to determine whether I should tell him or make him go back to sleep. His brow lifted stubbornly, telling me without words that I didn't really have a choice. "David and I were talking about your accident and some other reports we got at the station today. I was just trying to make sense of everything."

"Can I help?"

"Maybe. I was thinking we should make a list of people who could be involved."

"Agreed. Shall we take this conversation downstairs? I imagine Dave would like to participate."

"If you're feeling up to it."

"I'd love to show you how very up to it I can be," he started; pausing as he took in my lack of expression. "Perhaps another time?"

"Don't push it," I warned. He followed me back to the kitchen where David and Mary Margaret were engaged in a whispered conversation. I eyed them suspiciously as they stepped apart. Mary Margaret offered me a tight smile, and I could guess at what she'd just shared with David.

"So, do we have any leads on who might want to cause you harm?" David asked once we were all seated around the table.

"No idea, mate. As likeable as I am, I'm stumped as to who might be currently at conflict with me," Killian replied.

"You did piss off a lot of people before we all left for Neverland. Gold is an obvious choice, for Belle and your past." I carefully did not mention Milah's name.

"The dwarves aren't overly fond of you," Mary Margaret added.

"Nor Anton, for that matter." I frowned.

"Oh, and Archie!" Mary Margaret continued. "You did kidnap him."

"Well, aren't I the popular villain," Killian drawled.

Mary Margret's face fell. "You don't think Neal could be involved; do you?"

I considered the possibility, wanting to immediately shoot it down. Sure, Neal was jealous. But he wouldn't intentionally hurt Killian, would he? "No. No I don't think so."

"Of course, we should also consider those who might wish to harm you," Killian said, his glance flickering to me.

David and Mary Margaret shared a look between them. "But only those who know about the bond would suspect that hurting you would also affect Emma," Mary Margaret pointed out.

I looked down at the list in my hands. "You said there were no signs of a break-in at the cannery. Do you think magic was involved?"

"It's possible," David conceded. "Though, we don't have any proof that the two events are connected."

Right. He didn't know about our cannery fun. I knew it wasn't concrete evidence, but it seemed far too coincidental to ignore. "True, but he was found nearby. I don't think we should ignore the potential connection." My eyes strayed to Killian. He was slightly slumped in his chair, his face a bit pale. "It's getting late and you really haven't rested as much as you should," I commented.

"Quite a demanding little thing, aren't you, love?" His lips twitched. Through our connection I could tell he was actually pleased to have me nagging him, though he was plainly exhausted, too. "Far be it for me to argue with a lady." He stood slowly and pushed in his chair.

"We're heading to bed, too. We're picking up the keys for the house first thing in the morning. Then maybe we can head over to your ship?" She looked to Killian. He inclined his head ever so slightly, though judging by his slight wince, the motion still must have aggravated his headache.

David and Mary Margaret made their way to the sectioned-off portion of the living room which doubled as their bedroom. Settling my attention on Killian, I asked, "Shall we?"

His face brightened as he likely realized I planned to join him. "Lead the way, love."

Once back in my bedroom, Killian immediately started preparing for bed. He rid himself of the borrowed shirt and tossed it over my vanity. I was puzzled by two purplish marks on the left side of his chest, just above his heart. They were about an inch long and half an inch wide. "What are these from?" I asked, brushing my fingertips over them.

Killian turned to look in the mirror, his own hand coming up to inspect them. "I've no idea. They're not painful. Perhaps I acquired them when I fell?" He looked thoughtful for a moment before leering at me. "Or from my wanton lover?" I just shook my head and he laughed, seeming to shrug the bruises off as no big deal. "Help me with this, lass," he asked, starting to loosen the straps on his brace. I helped him slide the leather from his arm and he set it on the nightstand before he slipped beneath the sheets. I quickly stripped down to just my shirt and underwear before turning off the light and climbing in beside him.

"Taking a bit of a risk, eh Swan?" I could almost hear his brows arching.

I turned onto my side to face him, leaving about a foot of space between us. "Not really. We're just going to be sleeping." He didn't reply, though a moment later, I felt his fingers stroke over my thigh. I stopped his wandering hand with my own and placed it back on his side of the bed. "Goodnight, Killian."

He shifted, kicking the sheet off his legs and moving his arm above his head. After several minutes, a loud sigh sounded from him. "I can't bloody well get comfortable. I've grown too accustomed to the motions of my ship," he confessed.

My heart softened. As out of sorts as this man made me feel, I sometimes forgot that he was dealing with the same emotions I was, often in unison. Even worse, he found himself in an entirely new setting with only me as his guide and until recently, I'd been doing a really poor job of it. Now, he had the concussion to contend with on top of everything. Maybe there's something you can do to help, my conscience hinted. "You're too tense," I observed. An idea born from his earlier discovery blossomed in my mind.

"Well spotted, love," he grumbled, attempting to reposition himself on his side.

"Be still," I commanded in a whisper. Pulling the sheet all the way back I straddled his waist, leaning over to softly kiss his lips, then his jaw, then his neck before biting down gently on one of his nipples. I laved it with my tongue and there was a whistle of air as he sucked in a breath.

"Swan, what are you doing?" His voice was raspy and deep. It spoke to that part of me that fantasized about chaining him up someday to have my wicked way with him. Gently, Emma, I had to remind myself.

"Helping you relax," I spoke against his skin, trailing open-mouth kisses along his lower abdomen.

I felt his muscles contract, then release, then contract again. "I'm not sure that's helping, love."

"Shh," I soothed. "Don't talk. Just feel." My lips traced a path from one of his hip bones to the other before I peeled his sweats down. He was already hard, though when I took him in my hand, I felt him grow even firmer. I shifted down so that I could rest between his legs before gently swiping my tongue over the tip of his shaft. His fingers immediately latched themselves into my hair. Slowly, I took him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around him as I set a shallow rhythm.

I'd never been much of a fan of this act, but it was entirely different when performed on a man I truly loved. Every moan, every ragged catch of his breath was like finding another piece of buried treasure. I wanted nothing more than to make him feel good. I poured my feelings for him across our link, my own pulse thrumming wildly through my body with both love and arousal. His fingers tightened against my scalp as I hollowed my cheeks to increase the pressure, taking him in long, tight strokes with my lips. He nearly whimpered my name. His breaths were erratic and loud, causing my own body to clench with desire.

I slipped my hand between us and gently rolled his balls in my palm while my lips and tongue continued caressing his length. "Emma!" He exclaimed. His hips lifted off the mattress, forcing his erection deeper into my mouth. I moaned around him before lightly scraping my teeth along his delicate skin. I felt his body tense and his fingers abruptly vanished from my hair.

Peering up at his face, I watched as absolute abandon flooded his features. He bit down on his knuckle as his hips surged up once more. "Love, I'm nearly spent," he cried as he tried to shift away. I pressed down on his hip with my arm – holding him steady – as I took in his entire length, feeling him against the back of my throat. With a muffled groan, he spilled his release into my mouth and lord help me, I swallowed every drop.

Pulling my mouth away, I redressed his lower half and moved to lie beside him. His arm wrapped around my shoulders and he kissed the top of my head. I could hear his heart pounding in his chest and feel it radiating across our bond. "I love you," I whispered into semi-darkness. It was getting easier and easier to say, particularly in moments like these when I could literally feel how completely both our walls were down.

"I know," he murmured. "Emma, that was…How you made me feel…I'm…I…" he exhaled sharply before taking several steadying breaths. It was so unlike him to be at a loss for words. "So long has happiness eluded me," he started again before falling silent for a long moment. When he resumed, his voice was quieter; the anxious sincerity of a confession. "When I lost Milah, I thought my life was over…but I survived." He turned his face so that we were eye to eye. "I can't live without you. Not just because of some bond; you are everything, Emma, and I am terrified that I'm not enough to keep you."

His words crushed me. Not only because I loved him, but because it was exactly how I felt my entire life. For all his swagger and pirate bravado he was – under it all – a lost boy. Just as I was a lost girl. He'd shown me glimpses of his vulnerability a time or two before, but never to this extent.

"You're not alone in that." I tilted my face so it rested against his left shoulder, his arm moving to tuck me to him. Nervous tremors fluttered through my chest, but I took a deep breath and squashed them down. I wanted him to know. For once, I trusted that he was a person I could finally be entirely real with. He was the one person who had never stopped fighting for me, for us, no matter what. "I've never had this. No one has ever fought to keep me before."

His arm tightened around me, but he stayed silent, knowing, or sensing that I had more to say. I felt the bile churn in my stomach as I searched for words to explain the memories I'd buried deep within myself. "I took the name Swan from one of my earliest foster families. I was with them for three years, longer than any other place. When they had a baby of their own, they said they couldn't keep me anymore; that they couldn't look after me and a baby." I swallowed thickly, feeling the torrent of old hurts welling inside me. "Mrs. Swan used to read me The Ugly Duckling. She told me that even though I felt out of place, one day I'd be as beautiful as a swan and everyone would love me," I felt my voice choke bitterly on the last part of my words.

Killian's hand reached across his body to cup my cheek, further securing me to his side. His voice was barely a whisper – low and gravelly – as he spoke. "I never knew my mother; she died in childbirth…my father abandoned me before the age of ten. While I am still unaware of the particulars, it was rumored he fled in the night to avoid arrest for a crime against the crown. Liam found me living on the streets several years later."

The weight of our words settled around us like an anchor, only, rather than holding us down, I felt like it held me to him. This was not a contest over who'd suffered the most hurts; this was an intentional removal of barriers. We'd bared our bodies and our hearts; we'd already joined our souls. What was left but our minds? Filled with memories, dreams, fears and a desperate hope to find that one person with whom we could be safe.

"They gave me up. Just like my real parents. I know it wasn't their fault, but I can't help but wonder sometimes if there wasn't another way? What might my life had been like if one of them had fought to keep me? Or Neal for that matter? He was the first person I gave my trust to, and he just threw it away."

Through our bond, I felt Killian react to Neal's name, but for once it was in empathy rather than jealousy. "I met Milah only a few years after Liam's death. At first, she only saw what I could give to her – a life of adventure, an escape from her unhappiness. But after awhile, I believed she recognized the man beneath the pirate. When she was taken from me, it seemed confirmation that I was never meant to love at all. Who would want a one-handed pirate with a drinking problem?"

"Who would want an ugly duckling?" I echoed, my voice barely denting the stillness surrounding us despite feeling like it was pounding from my lungs.

We lay in silence for an immeasurable amount of time. I listened to the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, feeling an unfamiliar void in my chest. Had I clung to those insecurities for so long that they'd physically become a part of me?

Killian's hand moved to cover my heart. In the darkness, I could feel his eyes turned on me. "I want you, Emma. I want all of you." Somehow, it meant more than hearing him say I love you. I'd heard that before, and still been cast aside. Killian wanted me; he wanted to keep me. I felt it in everything he did.

"And I want you, too, Killian."

He turned and pressed a kiss to my head. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say these were nearly vows, Swan."

I elbowed him gently in the ribs. "Don't even think about that." Not yet.

"Careful, love. I'm an invalid, remember?" He chuckled. "Besides, as I find myself anchored in your realm, perhaps it shall be you doing the asking. Only when you're ready of course?"

"Keep dreaming."

He laughed softly again. "But just so we're clear, I expect nothing less than trumpets, flowers and possibly a children's choir with the voices of angels as you ask for my hand."

"Goodnight, Killian!"

"Someday, Swan…" his voice promised, only I was pretty certain he hadn't spoken out loud. "Goodnight my love."

Long after Killian had drifted asleep I found myself awake and considering our conversation. Somehow – through the sharing of our pasts – he'd crossed even more realms than I think even he realized. If he'd hinted at the 'M' word yesterday I would've been out the door before he could blink. Now? Now my mind was actually considering what life would be like having Killian as my husband. We weren't ready for that. Not yet. But someday? It's not the most terrible thought…

I snuggled deeper against him, breathing in the scent which had become as familiar to me as the fragrance of my shampoo and closed my eyes. Visions of me wearing a ridiculous poofy white dress mocked me from behind my eyelids. Someday indeed.

A/N: Thanks for reading. I still welcome your theories (and comments) so don't be a stranger; leave a message in the little box!