A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews and messages! They are what keep me writing. It means so much to me that you take time out of your own days to write me a response! I'm sorry this is so late going up and that there is only one chapter update today. I was shopping for things for my apartment today and the process took way longer than expected. I hope you still enjoy anyways!

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Emma bolted upright, a bolt of pain shooting through her shoulder when she used her bad arm to push off the mattress. She couldn't breathe but it wasn't from the pain radiating across her bullet wounds. No, she barely noticed that. The pain was coming from somewhere else, somewhere she wasn't used to. Somewhere Killian had revived. She just wanted to gasp and curl up on the floor until her heart stopped pounding. She wasn't prepared for this. She couldn't process what Mary Margaret's words meant.

Killian. The last thing he'd heard from her was the line going dead after she told him she couldn't do this anymore. Killian had told her he loved her and she hung up on him. And now he might be dead, never to know that she loved him back. Stupid, Emma.

Emma was angry at herself for not telling him then, when he was on the other side of her phone, awake and breathing. She was angry at her fear. And she was angry at Killian for getting himself into the situation in the first place, as irrational as she knew that was. But mainly she was scared. Scared that she was going to lose the man she loved the day after realizing how deep her feelings ran. Scared that she had lost her chance at happiness with a man who saw her for who she was instead of the foster system reject. Scared that she would arrive at the dock and find Killian in a body bag instead of awake and smirking, eyebrow quirking up his face in the way that she adored- even though she would never tell him that.

Emma struggled towards the door, stumbling over her feet as she gasped for breath. Mary Margaret caught her wrist, holding her fast. Emma struggled but Mary Margaret had a ballerina's muscles, strong enough to trap Emma in her bedroom.

"Where are you going?" Mary Margaret asked, her voice calm as she tried to soothe Emma. Emma didn't know how she was staying so calm. She felt like she was exploding. She felt like the whole world was exploding right along with her.

"I need to go see if he's okay. Jones can't die before I tell him I love him," Emma cried, ripping her arm again. The movement jarred her other shoulder for a moment, stilling her but not staving off the determination, the need, to see Killian.

"You can't drive like this, Emma. Let me," her friend offered, only letting go of Emma's wrist when she nodded. Emma knew she couldn't drive in her state and she needed to make it to the dock quickly. She wasn't crying but her eyes were foggy from unshed tears, distorting everything around her. Her hands were steady, used to holding a gun in situations of stress, but her legs weren't holding up as well. She wouldn't have been able to properly accelerate or brake the car with legs as unsteady as a new deer's so it didn't matter if she could steer. Emma didn't bother to stop and change out of her rumpled, tear stained clothes or even put her sling back on. Instead she dashed out of the room, Mary Margaret hot on her heels.

Emma slid into the passenger side of Mary Margaret's tiny car and grasped the door when it closed, squeezing until her knuckles cracked. The pressure in her finger joints was the only thing keeping her grounded as she sat in the motionless car. Mary Margaret got in moments later and started the car. Before she backed out of the driveway she turned to Emma and pried her fingers out of the leather, giving them a squeeze.

"Killian will be fine," she said vehemently, looking Emma in the eye. Even though she sounded sure her eyes wavered, flickering just a little too much. Emma was good at picking up lies and her sensor was going off more with every sideways glance of her friend's dark eyes. Neither one of them knew who the casualties were or how severe they were. It could be just something minor but because of the fire the boat had to be evacuated. Or it could be, well, not.

Emma managed a nod in response, mainly because she just wanted Mary Margaret to drive rather than because she believed her. The rest of the car ride was silent and tense. Images of Killian, cold and pale fluttered through her mind, the last look she ever got of him being his glacier blue eyes closed as a black bag zipped up around him. She tried to fight off the pictures her fear created by forcing herself to remember his caring smile, the way he'd looked when she picked him up at the dock all those weeks ago, stubble covering his jaw, hunter orange knit hat pulled over the shaggy mop of constantly salt sprayed and wind mussed hair he had. But Emma wasn't very good at being positive. That was Mary Margaret's wheelhouse. By the time they reached the dock Emma was convinced Killian was dead and lost to her. She bit down on the lip that had started bleeding after Mary Margaret rounded the first corner from Emma's bungalow.

David's car was already at the docks when they arrived. Mary Margaret pulled off to the side, next to her husband's car, in order to keep out of the way of all the emergency vehicles that littered the parking lot. Cops and ambulances, sirens going on each vehicle cast a strange and ominous lighting over the area. The Northern Osprey wasn't there but the coast guard's large rescue boat was tied to the metal dock rings and awash with activity. Ambulances were parked closest to the water; back doors open as the EMTs rushed gurneys to the large red coast guard boat and back to the waiting vehicles. There were four ambulances, all Storybrooke had, and all looked like they would be soon occupied if they weren't already. Some men walked away, seemingly fine, others staggered towards the police cars which would take them to the hospital, nursing small wounds and sore bodies in order to leave space in the ambulances for the more severely injured. Killian wasn't one of the men walking away.

Emma spotted David standing beside a stretcher that was waiting to be loaded into an ambulance. The person on board had an oxygen mask and bag attached to his face which David was calmly pumping, eyes watching the rise and fall of the man's chest. The way David looked at the injured man and the way he moved, having offered to help the EMTs out with this specific person, since he had his own first aid training, made Emma's stomach clench. She bolted out of the car before Mary Margaret could say anything to stop her and sprinted towards David.

Emma skidded to a stop on the other side of the stretcher and took a few deep breaths as she examined the injured person. It was Killian, eyes shut, face contorted with pain. Emma forced the tears back until she figured out what was going on. She could cry later. When Killian wasn't possibly dying. Killian's arm was wrapped up and set on his chest, blood already soaking through the pressure bandage that hid the wound. She couldn't see the injury but something told her it wasn't good. There was just too much blood and soot everywhere. A cut on his cheek bled as well, dripping down onto the white sheet that covered the stretcher. The rest of his face was covered in streaks of soot which made his skin seem even paler. Killian's breathing was rough, wheezing out of his chest so loudly that Emma's own lungs ached.

"Jones," Emma cried, the words ripping from somewhere inside of her. She ducked closer to him, running her hand along his singed work shirt, waiting to see if she'd get a response. Killian didn't move. Emma glanced up at David when he cleared his throat, noticing for the first time that a distraught Mary Margaret had joined them, tears streaming down her face. "What happened to him?"

"A crewmate got stuck in the engine room during the fire. Killian went in after him. As he was pulling the other man out something fell on his arm or trapped him, I don't know, they couldn't tell me. Emma, his hand-" David's voice broke and Emma glanced back at the bandaged appendage. Of course Killian had to be the hero. Emma cursed his idea of good form and how dangerous it could be before she was able to wrangle her anger back in.

She shook her head at David. "That doesn't matter now." What mattered now was Killian living. She wouldn't focus on anything else until that problem was resolved. She couldn't focus on anything else until that problem was resolved.

Emma squatted next to Killian so her face was level with his and grasped his uninjured hand. She squeezed his cold fingers. "Killian Jones, you bloody stupid hero, don't you dare die on me." Emma was crying in earnest now, sobs wracking her body and threatening to topple her over as she yelled at Killian. But she held on to Killian for dear life, never taking her misty eyes off his face, and managed to stay upright. "Don't you dare die on me, Jones, not when I love you."

"Swan?" It was more than a cough than a word, his voice smoke roughened and muffled by the oxygen mask. Emma's own breath caught in her chest as she forced herself to look at David to check to make sure she wasn't dreaming. The shocked look on David's face told her that he had heard it too. Killian's eyes opened partially and Emma stood so he would be able to see her without moving.

"I'm here, Jones."

"Why?" Again, his voice was broken and it sounded as if that word was took all strength he could muster.

"Because I love you," Emma answered. Killian's eyes opened a bit more and he tried to focus his glassy irises on Emma's face. He shook his head slightly and raised his injured arm a few inches, wincing.

"Shouldn't now," he murmured and Emma's' heart broke. What did his hand look like that he thought he wasn't worth loving anymore? That wasn't the Killian she knew. The Killian she knew was passionate and loving. Killian didn't care about Emma's scars so she couldn't understand why he would care about his own. Unless he thought distancing himself from her would be better for Emma. Because that did sound a bit like the Killian she knew. Killian let his eyes drift shut and Emma grasped his hand tighter.

"Don't you dare die on me. Don't you dare leave me. I need you and all your inappropriate innuendos and cocky smirks and caring words." The EMTs arrived and took over control of the oxygen mask from David before pushing Killian forward, forcing Emma to release his hand. She tried to follow but was held back. The ambulance was already full. Another, less injured crew member moved past them and took the empty seat next to Killian. If he hadn't had been injured Emma would have ripped him out of there and taken the seat.

"You didn't leave me all those years ago when you found out about my life in the system," Emma yelled into the ambulance as they secured Killian in. "I'm not leaving you now."

The doors shut with a resounding clang, too final sounding for Emma. Emma was left staring at the back of the ambulance, David's arm snaking around her shoulder, as the vehicle moved away. She curled into David's warm chest and sobbed.