A/N: So here's where everything kinda starts falling into place here for what's to come later in the fic. This chapter is a little angsty, but it's necessary angst. This is the chapter based on The Hierophant, and The Hierophant is all about the "tried and true" and sticking to what's always worked in the past. Which is exactly what Emma's trying to do. Also, Gold is in this chapter. And let me just say now, that I love Rumple, but this is a story about Emma and Killian, and as such, some things might come across slightly biased in that way, since, ya know, Killian's still pretty pissed about his hand and Milah. I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next one that I will post after this one, is my favorite so far, so ... look forward to that one. ;)

Chapter Five
The Hierophant
"I know that I am nothing new, there's so much more to me and you … "

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. She hadn't actually meant to say that … what the hell was she supposed to do now? She wasn't about to confess any feelings she may or may not (she definitely did not) have.

But how else could she make him understand why she was doing this? Why she had to do this?

Killian gave her a sort of crooked smile. "Do those words mean the same thing in this realm as they do in mine?" he asked her, and she could tell he was forcing the levity in his voice.

"They mean we have to talk," she said, her own voice a little tight.

They were standing on opposite sides of the counter in the kitchen, the counter they'd shared many a morning at for almost a month now. But everything was different now. Regardless of what David said, whether or not it was even true … Emma knew things couldn't go on like this. This wasn't just about her, it was about her family too.

At least, that's what she was telling herself.

"I'm waiting," he said after several long, heavy moments of silence. The room seemed to be full of all the things they weren't saying, Emma swore she could choke on them.

She sighed heavily. "It's not working," she said, more quietly than she had intended.

That wasn't what she'd meant to say either. "It's not working out," or "this is no longer a good idea" … something like that, that would have made more sense.

But it wouldn't have been the truth. "It's not working" was the truth. Everything she'd tried to do when it came to him, all of it … none of it had gone according to plan. She was supposed to be sick of him by now, she was supposed to want him out of her sight, out of her vicinity, out of her thoughts …

Instead she wanted the opposite, and she couldn't want that.

Not again. Not ever again.

And not him, of all people. God, not him.

Or only him … she did her best to quell the small voice in her head that was continually pushing her his way, against all her better judgement. That part of her was telling her to curl her fingers in the front of his shirt and pull him closer, finally, at last … but she wouldn't. She couldn't.

She'd been so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even realize that he'd moved to stand right in front of her, his hand and his … arm on her shoulders, turning her to face him. "What's not working?" he asked, his voice just as quiet.

He was so close, and he smelled like soap and water from the shower, but still with that ever-present scent that reminded her of the sea … she had always wanted to live near the ocean a little voice in her head chimed, but she pushed away the thought and tried to focus on what she was doing here.

She made herself look up at him then, made herself meet his eyes with her own. She was an adult, it was time to start acting like it.

It was then that she saw the amused glint in his too-blue eyes, the smirk that was playing on the corners of his lips.

The bastard was enjoying this! It was like he was expecting her to … to confess something, and his expression said that he'd known it all along.

As if she'd give him the satisfaction.

Her temper flared then, and she gave him a shove backwards. "I'm glad this is a joke to you!" she snapped, hands curling into fists, and she honestly wasn't sure if she was going to punch him or not.

"Emma, I'm not laughing," he said, his expression all seriousness then. "What is it that's got you so upset, love?"

"I'm not your love!" she shouted, unable to bear it any more. "I'm not your darling, or your lass, or any other name you've called me since we met. My name is Emma and I'm the sheriff of this town, and it's my responsibility to look after the citizens. And that unfortunately includes you now!"

"What is it you're saying, then?" he asked her, his tone even and clipped.

"I'm saying that this," she gestured back and forth between the two of them, "it's not working. You can't stay here any more, Hook."

"And you're not even going to give me more of a reason than that, love?" he said, emphasizing the last word with a smirk that was no longer teasing, and every bit as villainous as his reputation would have you believe.

"What reason do you need?" Emma asked him, doing her best to calm down, but it didn't seem to be working. "I have a responsibility to you, but that doesn't mean I have to have you under my roof, always around, constantly."

"So all this time, we've been talking, getting to know each other, and it just means nothing? I've just been Emma Swan's pet project?" he asked her, an edge to his voice that she'd never heard him use prior to this. He was … he was angry with her. But why? She couldn't begin to fathom it.

"Of course it doesn't mean nothing!" she shouted, feeling herself flagging, feeling it all crumbling. "That's not … " She leaned against the counter, not even sure what she wanted to say any more.

He was in front of her again, his hand tilting up her face to look at him. He leaned in, and his breath was hot against her ear. "Bloody well say it, Emma," he breathed, and she could feel the anger rolling off of him, the hurt … the longing? "You're shoving me out the door, you damn well need to give me a reason. A real one."

She smacked his hand away from her face, turning away. "What do you want me to say?" she said, her voice barely a whisper, all the anger, all the fight gone from her. She was terrified right now … not of him, no. He wouldn't hurt her. She wasn't sure of much right now, but of that, she was absolutely certain. No, she was terrified of herself, of the things that she was feeling.

She didn't want to feel this way.

"You're terrified, darling," he said, and the look in his eyes was defeated. "You think you're hiding it so well, but you're shaking, and it's all over your face. I just want to know why."

She gritted her teeth and made herself look back at him again. "If you've got me pegged so well, why don't you just tell me so we can get this over with?" she spat.

He slammed his hand down on the countertop then. "Because I want to hear it from you. Why are you so bloody afraid of me?"

She laughed then, it was almost an hysterical reaction. "You're so sure of yourself, aren't you?" she snapped. "What makes you think this has anything to do with you at all?"

"Emma, I am not the only one who's fall — " He trailed off at the sound of the door opening, and Emma had never been more grateful — or more pissed off — for anything in her entire life.

What the hell had he been about to say?

"Emma," he said, looking at her, his eyes imploring.

Emma shook her head. She couldn't let this continue, she had to stop it now before it was too late. It's already too late, that damned voice chimed again.
"I've made my decision," she said, as Henry entered the kitchen then, looking back and forth between the two of them, his expression concerned.

Killian's eyes flicked over to Henry, then back to Emma, and he sighed heavily.

"Then there's nothing more for me to say right now," he said. His eyes bore into hers then. His hand clasped hers, and he pulled her closer, close enough so that he could breathe in her ear again. "But you're out of your mind if you think this conversation is over."

She swallowed thickly, not knowing what else there was to say. "I'll take you to the inn," she managed to say, taking a step back, hoping that he'd release her hand then, and he did, and she hated that she wished he'd held on a bit longer.

"Don't bloody bother," he said, giving her one last look before moving away from the counter. "I'll find it on my own."

"Hook," Emma began, not knowing what she was going to say next.

He gave her a look, but didn't say anything else. He ruffled Henry's hair slightly as he walked past him and to the door, slamming it behind him when he left. Emma winced at the sound, her eyes glued to the door as if she expected him to come back at any second. She reminded herself that this was for the best.

"So," Henry said after several long minutes. "Rough day?"

Emma looked at him and managed a wry smile. "It had to be done," she said, shrugging, her whole body sagging against the countertop then.

"Why?" Henry asked, sitting down on one of the stools.

"Because," Emma said, brow furrowed. "I mean, we barely have room for the four of us, let alone someone else, and it's just … what if Mr. Gold found out about him being here? I can't have all of you in danger … "

"And what's the real reason?" Henry asked, giving her that look of his that made her shift uncomfortably, as though she were being judged.

"That is the real reason," she said, giving him a look that warned him to drop it.

"I think you hurt his feelings," Henry said with a shrug.

"What?" Emma asked, scoffing. "I did not. He was pissed off, not … hurt."

"No, he was," Henry said, without explaining himself further.

"Stop being so perceptive," Emma told him irritably, to which he grinned. "So you really think I should've let him stay?" she asked then.

He shrugged. "Maybe not. But he was right about you being scared."

"You heard that part, huh?" she said, making a face and turning her attention back to her hot cocoa, which had long since grown cold.

"You do push people away, when you're scared of getting too close," he said. "You did it to me, too."

She made a face. Henry was way too smart to be a kid of hers. "He's a pirate, though," she protested. "Like, a really bad one!"

"Because all the stories are always true, right?" he said with a grin.

"Oh, be quiet," Emma laughed then, unable to help herself.

"It doesn't matter," Henry said then. "He'll be back, anyway."

Emma smiled sadly then. "No he won't," she said, shaking her head. "I said some pretty mean things, Henry, and I haven't exactly been the nicest person to be around lately. People don't want to put up with that if they don't have to."

"Not everyone's going to abandon you."

"Not everyone," Emma conceded. "Just about 98% of them." She sighed and pushed away from the counter then. "I need some air. You all right for a few minutes?"

Henry nodded. "You want some company?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Not this time, buddy," she said, and luckily, Henry understood. She grabbed her jacket from the hook by the door and headed out into the brisk autumn evening.

She pushed open the door leading out of the apartment building and nearly hit someone who was coming inside. Her heart thudded when she looked up and saw who it was.

"Mr. Gold," she said, eyes wide. "What brings you here this evening?"

"Well, I came to see you, Ms. Swan," he said in that soft-spoken way of his.

"Um, is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh, on the contrary," he said, smiling quickly. "I just heard a … disconcerting rumor, and I wanted to give you a bit of a warning, is all."

Emma's brow furrowed. "Warning about what?" she asked, confused.

"Well, when you, your mother, Mulan, and Aurora came back from … the other side … it seems that you had an extra passenger who crossed over with you."

Shit.

"Oh?" Emma asked, cocking her head to the side, hoping desperately that her face didn't give anything away.

"He's a pirate, Ms. Swan, and he's very dangerous, and not to be trusted. You may know him as Captain Hook. I should imagine he'd stick out in a town like Storybrooke, and I'd urge you to be on your guard should you encounter him."

Emma managed a small smile. "Well, I haven't heard anything about any pirates around these parts, Mr. Gold, but I promise I'll be careful."

"That's all well and good," Mr. Gold said, "but I'd rather you just send him to me, should you cross paths. He and I have a bit of … unfinished business."

Emma's stomach flipped. There was no way Gold had anything good planned for that particular meeting, and in no way was she eager to see it come to pass. True, Mr. Gold had helped her out in the past … but she didn't trust him. And if half of what Killian had told her was true …

"I … I will definitely do that," she managed to say at last. "Was there anything else?"

"Only this," Gold said, leaning a bit on his cane as he focused all his attention on her now. "The man stole something precious from me, and I will see him pay … and anyone who helps him will suffer the same."

Emma bit back the words on her tongue, the ones that said that taking his hand and his love away was enough… but she knew better than to say it out loud. "I understand," she said, nodding. "I will let you know if … if I hear anything."

"Very good," Gold said with a nod. "Have a lovely evening, Ms. Swan."

As he walked away, Emma watched him go, and she had the sinking feeling in her stomach that this was only the beginning. Mr. Gold wasn't about to let any slight against him go, and Killian had his own grudges against the man he called his "Crocodile".

She knew Killian was brave and resourceful, strong and quick … but Mr. Gold — Rumplestiltskin — he was a powerful sorcerer, one who had already bested Killian at least once. And this time, she had no doubt, it would be more than a hand that her pirate would lose.

(Wait a second … her pirate?) "Stop it, Emma," she muttered to herself.

She wouldn't let him do it again. She may not have had it all sorted out in her head, what she felt for Killian, what she wanted from him … but she knew that him getting hurt was not something she could allow, not ever.

Mr. Gold had long since disappeared down the road that lead back to his shop, and Emma started in the opposite direction, heading for Granny's bed and breakfast, and hoping, hoping, that Killian was safe there.

She was just going to have to swallow her pride and go to him. He had to know that he was being sought.

And losing him was not something she was willing to do. That much … that much she could admit.