A/N: So. We must continue onward. I know the last chapter was full of ALL GOOD THINGS, but … well, things aren't going to be bright and shiny and smooth-sailing right now, MUCH AS I WISH IT WERE POSSIBLE. We're up to The Chariot, which is all about conflict and struggle, and battles hard-fought. A big theme with the Chariot is internal struggles. Which we know Emma has lots of. It's about being pulled in two different directions, and trying to make both factions work cohesively. In this case, it's Emma's damn logic vs. her heart. I hope you like this chapter. We're only about three chapters away from Fortune, which is … well, it's where all those big things I've been promising are gonna start. ;)

Chapter Seven
The Chariot
"I've been thinking of changing my mind, it never stays the same for long … "

After the words left her, Emma knew she needed to get away. God, she was saying too much. She always, always said too much to him.

"I need to go," she said, her voice full of reluctance, regret. She didn't want to walk out of this room, but she knew she couldn't stay. If she did …

"No, you don't," Killian said, though he made no move to hold her or keep her there. Emma knew that he was making it very clear with his actions that the choice was hers.

She smiled wryly. "And what do you suppose is going to happen if I stay here?"

"I've no idea, love," he said with that cheeky smirk she was becoming so fond of, despite all her misgivings.

"That's exactly why I need to go," she said, shaking her head.

"You keep kissing me, Emma," he said, cocking his head as he looked at her. "And then you back off like it never happened. When do you suppose you might kiss me and actually mean it?"

Her brow furrowed. "You think I don't mean it?" she asked, her defenses bristling. "You think I just kiss anyone and everyone?"

"I don't deign to imply that I know anything about you at all," he said dryly.

She frowned. "Okay, now I know I need to go," she said. "Before we end up fighting again."

"Is that what we're doing?" he asked, the smirk now becoming infuriating to her. How did he manage to make her feel every emotion, all at once?

"Not yet, but … "

"Don't go," he said, his voice earnest. "Not right now."

"Hook … " She looked at him, then at the door, her expression clearly torn, her emotions in turmoil within her.

"Hook, again?" he said, frowning at her a bit. "Don't put that wall back up, love. Not now."

"I can't stay with you," she said quietly. "You know I can't."

"I know you won't," he corrected. "What are you so afraid of?"

You, she thought, but she jutted out her chin and looked up at him. "Nothing," she said.

"You're a poor liar, Emma Swan," he said, shaking his head. "If you weren't scared, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Maybe he was right. Maybe she should just stay. Maybe that would get her over this stupid little infatuation she had with him. She could get him out of her system, be done with it, and go back to living her life, the way it was before …

She shook her head, appalled at her own thoughts, and more appalled at the realization that it wouldn't change anything. Whatever she was feeling for him, confusion, loathing, compassion, annoyance, affection … whatever it was … it wasn't going anywhere, and spending the night with him was certainly not going to clear it up any for her.

"It doesn't matter what you think," she said then. "I'm not staying."

"And yet you're still here."

She huffed indignantly. "I'm just … I … you really shouldn't stay here either. Gold knows you're in town, and he's made threats. I don't want anyone getting hurt because of you … "

"But taking me back with you would only put your family at risk," he pointed out.

"I didn't say I was taking you back with me!" she said, throwing up her hands. "I have to figure out something to do with you." The look he gave her then really wasn't helping matters. "Stop that," she snapped at him.

"Stop what?" he asked, all innocence.

"You know what," she retorted, glaring.

"Why? Does it bother you?" He leaned in, practically leering at her now. She gave him a light shove on his chest, wanting to maintain some semblance of personal space (ha! As if that existed with him anywhere in her vicinity), but he grabbed her wrist before she could pull her hand back. "Why is it so hard for you to accept when someone is interested in you?"

"You're not interested in me," she said, her eyes focused on his hand, still holding her wrist lightly.

He gave her a look like she had two heads. "You don't actually believe that, do you?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers.

She shrugged, feeling uncomfortable in her own skin under his scrutiny now. "Doesn't really matter," she mumbled. She pulled her hand away and turned toward the door.

"One day, love, you are going to believe me," he said. "One day, you might even trust me a bit."

"And why's that?" she asked, hand on the doorknob then. She looked back over her shoulder.

"Because I'm not giving up," he said. "I'm not going to be just one more person who leaves you, Emma."

She didn't even have anything more to say to that. Part of her wanted to weep, because she wanted it to be true, more than anything. Sometimes, she could close her eyes, and imagine what it might be like to be his. What it might feel like to hold him, to let herself be held. But the bigger part of her knew it was all just a lie. A pretty lie, but a lie, nonetheless.

He'd leave.

They all left.

And she just … couldn't risk it. Her heart was too damaged to take any more hurt. She shook her head and pulled open the door then, leaving before he had a chance to say anything else.

She managed to ignore the pointed look Granny was giving her as she walked out of the inn. She was sure the old woman had heard everything, and she didn't really want to contemplate that too much right now.

She made it halfway down the street, oblivious to the chill wind that was blowing now, when she realized that that pang she felt in her gut was disappointment.

He hadn't followed her.

"Idiot," she muttered to herself. "Did you really expect him to, after that?"

She didn't turn for home, instead taking the path that lead off into the woods. She needed a few minutes of reflection, a few minutes to try and contain her emotions, before going back to the apartment that was full of people who were too perceptive for their own good.

She also needed time to figure out what she was going to do about Killian. Not in personal sense … she couldn't even bear thinking of that right now. In the sense that she had to keep him safe, as well as not putting anyone else in danger. That really ruled out letting him stay anywhere in town … but she couldn't very well send him away, either.

Nor did she want to.

She might not know what she felt for him, but she did know that the idea of him not being around was … an unhappy one.

She didn't know how long she walked, she was meandering through the wooded path, the light growing ever dimmer. She knew she should head back soon, it was growing quite cold, and it wouldn't be real smart for her to be out in the woods after dark. But something kept pushing her onward, a bit farther, just around that bend up there, with the copse of trees …

She could hear the sound of the creek that ran along the border of the town as she made her way through the trees. She blinked when she came through them to the other side, shaking her head a little in disbelief.

The cabin.

She remembered Mary-Margaret telling her about this place, back before the curse broke, back when David was still married to Kathryn. Mary-Margaret had told Emma about trying to send a pigeon back to her flock, and getting caught in a storm. She and David had waited it out here.

Brow furrowed, Emma pushed open the door, looking around as best she could in the dim light. It wasn't the cleanest of places, but that was to be expected. Who knew how long it had been since anyone had lived here. She was sure that it wouldn't take much to get it into some sort of respectable condition though. Respectable enough for a pirate, anyhow.

She harbored no illusions that Gold didn't know about this place. But if Killian stayed here, alone, at least everyone in town could honestly say they didn't know where he was. Only Emma needed to know, and then only she would have to deal with any consequences.

A small smile played at her lips. Yes, this could work. For now. Until … until Killian decided what he wanted to do, of course.

She nodded, taking another look around, deciding to come back at first light and get to cleaning the place. She could bring Killian out here in the evening, after Gold closed his shop and headed home, so she wouldn't need to worry about them being seen.

She turned, ready to leave, satisfied that she'd found a good solution. She let out a shriek when she saw a shadow in the doorway, hand immediately going to her holster.

"Don't shoot, love, it's only me."

Emma felt her entire body sag with relief (and … something else. Was it happiness that he'd followed her?). "Killian?" she said, "what the hell are you doing here?"

"Been trying to catch up with you," he said, pushing off the doorjamb and stepping inside the cabin. "I saw you head off toward the woods from my window, and, well, what can I say? Curiosity got the better of me." He flashed her a grin, which, even in the fading light, was brilliant. He cast a glance around then. "Is this the solution, then?"

"I was going to clean it before I brought you here," she said, a little sheepishly. "I know it's not the … finest of establishments."

"I've stayed in much worse places than this," he told her with a dry chuckle.

"I'll still clean it," she said. "I mean, there's no reason you should have to stay in such a … "

"You worry too much," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "It'll do. And I'm capable of cleaning it myself, I did own a ship for years, you know."

She smiled in spite of herself, in spite of the turmoil this day had brought. She felt a little relieved, to be honest. This was a good solution, at least for now. "I won't tell anyone else that you're here. No one. It'll be safe, everyone will be safe, until you figure out what it is you've come here for."

Even in the dim, dusky light, the look he gave her then was enough to send shivers down her spine. She couldn't begin to fathom what it meant, though.

"Will you stay here tonight, then?" she asked, trying to focus on something other than the heaviness of the air between them.

"Doesn't make sense to go traipsing back through the woods and break my neck in the dark, now does it?" he said, giving her a pointed look.

"I know these woods," she said in response. "And it's not full dark yet. I'll be all right."

"You'd rather me worry about you all night, then?" he said, giving her a look that sort of reminded her of a wounded puppy.

Unfair.

"Stop that," she said, shaking her head. "I'm going. But I'll be back in the morning."

"I shall eagerly anticipate your return, milady," he said softly, his eyes lingering on her lips.

He was going to kiss her again, and she wasn't honestly sure she'd want him to stop if he did. And yet she couldn't seem to move. The last bit of the rose-colored light of dusk slanted through one of the dusty windowpanes, illuminating him with a soft glow that made her breath hitch.

He was achingly beautiful, and she was terrified of everything about him.

She placed her hand on his chest, not sure if she meant to pull him in or push him away. She could feel her head warring with her heart. Her eyes lingered on his lips longer than they should have, before she flicked her gaze up to meet his.

She wanted him, every part of her was crying out to be touched by him, and only him. And he was leaning in, his hand reaching to brush the hair off her shoulder, the way he'd always done, that too-familiar gesture that had annoyed her at first, but that she now accepted as just … Killian.

She swallowed thickly, every ounce of her willpower needed to finally push him back gently. "I'll see you tomorrow … Hook." She turned quickly, not wanting to see whatever emotion reflected in his eyes then, not wanting to know if he was angry or hurt or just plain sick of putting up with her.

The last thing she heard before she walked out the door was him whispering her name.