Always a huge thanks to the-lady-of-misthaven and zengoalie for editing this. Again, I owe so much to -o-u-a-timer for all of her help writing this, without her this fic wouldn't be half of what it is.

I really don't have much to say regarding this chapter. You all are going to hate waiting for the next one, but hopefully I will have it up soon. Thanks so much for all of the favorites, follows, and reviews...they make my day!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own OUAT or its characters.

Five Months Ago.

Killian's pen scribbled swiftly across the paper, his brows furrowed in concentration. Maybe... A hand came up to scratch the week-old scruff on his face. Bloody hell, why couldn't he get this right? Standing quickly, all of the papers around him scattered to the floor. Pacing from one end of their recording studio to the other, he resisted the urge to throw his arms up in exasperation.

He had three months until The Dashing Rapscallions left for tour. Three bloody months and he was nowhere near finished writing the remainder of this album, let alone ready to record it. Malcolm was going to be pissed. Killian rolled his eyes. He could give two fucks if Malcolm was pissed. The man was a weasel.

Killian's eyes caught sight of the band's four albums hanging on the wall. All of them were certified multi-platinum. Malcolm may be a weasel, but he knew what he was doing when it came to managing bands. Which was why they all listened to him and it was precisely why he had been holed up in this damn studio for three days straight trying to finish the album.

He looked around the room. At least the studio was large. He had loads of room to try to work through his thoughts and it was quiet. He'd hopped from one band mate's home to another, attempting to find inspiration to write. The change of environment never worked. Robin and Will's shared a loft in downtown LA was always too loud. Smee's apartment, though in a better location, wasn't an option either. His neighbors always seemed to be fighting.

He couldn't write at home either, as much as he would love to. Emma was too damned distracting with her perfect lips, toned legs, and... well, he loved each and every part of his wife to say the least. When he was home, which was a lot less than he used to be, his main goal was just to exist with Emma. To surround himself with her love and presence and forget about anything else.

Groaning, Killian reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. His heart swelled when he noticed he had missed a call from Emma. Thankfully, she had left him a voicemail. Wasting no time, he pressed the screen to play the message. Her toneless voice filled the room and his face fell when he noticed how brittle she sounded.

"Hey, Killian. It's me. Just trying to call you again to see if I could catch you for a moment. We haven't had the chance to talk in…" Killian heard sniffling in the background, his heart squeezed tighter in his chest. "about four days. I guess I just miss you. Just, um, just call me when you have a free moment. I love you."

He needed to call her. Maybe hearing his voice could soothe her until this weekend. His eyes glanced at the time on his phone. 11:30 pm. Buggering fuck! How the bloody hell did it get so late?

He had to finish the song he was working on. If he wanted to go home this weekend and see Emma, since it was his last chance before promotion started in LA for the tour, he needed to get at least three more songs written by tomorrow evening. Striding purposefully to his work area, Killian lifted the paper with the new song notes and crumpled them into a ball. It was trash. Complete and utter garbage. He sat down on the couch placing his pen between his teeth. Suddenly, an idea formed. Yes, his pen began to move. This was it and it was perfect.

He would call Emma first thing in the morning. Inspiration had finally struck and he couldn't let it pass him by.

The front door creaked opened, slowly, carefully. Killian walked into the pitch black of the house. Home, he corrected himself, his and Emma's. His heart thumped wildly in hope that maybe, just maybe, she would be here. Killian shut the door behind him carefully. If Emma were here then maybe she was sleeping and, if she was, he didn't want to wake her.

Sagging against the door, he covered his face with his hands. Who was he kidding? She wasn't here. Why would she be? He thought about all of the appearances he had made the last several weeks with the woman Malcolm had hired, Tink was her name. The media was eating it up, their picture was in every bloody gossip rag in print.

He shut his eyes, lightly banging his head against the door. If he knew his wife, and he did, he knew she was livid. Their divorce wasn't even finalized and he was out galavanting with another woman. He'd be lucky if Emma ever spoke to him again.

He rubbed his eyes frustratedly. He should've never agreed to Malcolm's plan. He knew that now. He should've come up with another way to let the fans know he was okay. Maybe one that didn't piss off your soon-to-be ex-wife, you bloody wanker. Anything would have been better than Malcolm's plan. Which was one of the reasons he'd stopped calling her. She didn't want to talk to him, she'd made that much perfectly clear. And, even though not calling her went against every single one of his instincts, he hoped by doing it she realized he was trying to give her space, to give her what she wanted.

He wondered, and not for the first time, what had pushed her to the point of ending their marriage. Had something happened while he was in LA? What problems did they have that would make her so adamant about not speaking to him? Or, could it not be a problem...could it be him? Could he have done or said something that angered her, so much so that she wanted to leave him? He shook his head and lightly bit his lip. No, that didn't make sense. When he was home with her, when they talked on the telephone nothing ever seemed amiss. They laughed, they played, they joked. They were happy. She was happy, and then...she left. His luggage dropped from his hand to the floor causing a thud to echo through the room. He just wished he knew the cause.

Leaving his luggage in the foyer, he moved past the kitchen into the living room. Killian froze in shock. His mouth hung open at the sight spread out before him. How? His eyes scanned the room in disbelief. The night before he had left for the tour wasn't a pleasant one. After trying, and failing, all night to get Emma on the phone he decided drinking as much alcohol as he possibly could was a grand idea. And it had been, until he'd reached the point that drunk meant angry at the world, angry at Emma, and angry at himself. In a drunken rage, he'd turned all of the portraits on the first floor and in the process broken several of the framed. He'd flipped the coffee table over, breaking its glass top. He wasn't proud of his behavior that night, wasn't proud of the way he destroyed everything that reminded him of happier times.

He had intended to clean everything once he returned from touring. But somehow, amazingly, the room was clean. No, it wasn't just clean, it was pristine. It looked almost as if professional cleaners had come in. In fact, his eyes scanned the room intently, it wasn't just this room that was clean. It was the entire first floor. Every bit of evidence regarding his destruction was gone, as if it had never been there in the first place.

His heart skipped a beat as he swung his head toward the steps. Hope flickered through his body. Emma. His heart knew, his head knew. She did this. She had come home and done this. She had come home. The words repeated in his head over and over again until his body propelled itself toward the stairs. It took mere seconds to arrive at the door to their bedroom, which was gloriously closed.

He paused, took a deep breath, and pressed his palm flat against the door. He wanted so badly for her to be in their room. He pictured her blonde locks splayed over her pillow. If his heart beat any faster, it would beat out of his chest. His hand grasped the door handle and turned until a click sounded in the hallway. Please. Please let her be here. With his eyes still closed, he took a step forward and edged the door open slightly. Please. He opened the door completely.

All he could see was blackness. Reaching a hand out, he searched the wall until he found the light switch and flipped it on. Hopeful, wide eyes scoured the room and... nothing. The room was just as empty as the day he left. His chest tightened as he examined the room. He was wrong, it was more empty than the day he'd left. Her suitcases were gone. She had been here, he'd been right about that. Came and left, likely without a second glance, just as she'd done to him.

He bit the inside of his cheek, hard. Don't break down. It fixes nothing. Don't break down. He was going to break down. He needed to get out of this room. He almost fumbled over his feet as he turned and attempted to thrust his body toward the door. Out of the corner of his eye, a glint of something stopped him. His eyes shut painfully and his heart stuttered. No, it couldn't be… Almost robotically, he turned toward the glint. His hands clenched at his sides. It couldn't be the gold of a ring, of her ring, because that would be... impossible. His breath quickened as he fell to his hands and knees. No. He closed his eyes in an attempt to avoided seeing what he already knew was there. He took a breath and then another before reaching out with trembling fingers.

Clasping his hand around Emma's wedding ring, he crushed to his chest as if it were his lifeline. In a way it was, it was his last link to her. His heart broke into a thousand pieces as tears flooded his vision. How could she… didn't she understand that he didn't want a divorce? He wanted anything except that. His eyes landed on his thumb twisting his own wedding ring. It represented everything he did want. Which was the same thing he'd wanted since college. It was the same thing he would always want, her and him. Them. Forever.

Killian stood, still pressing his hand to his chest, and numbly walked out of the room leaving the door wide open. The diamond on the ring bit into his palm, but he barely noticed. In the kitchen, he grabbed the first bottle of liquor he could find and downed a mouth full. Wiping his lips with the back of his shirt, he opened his hand to stare at the ring.

It was simple, a single solitaire diamond. He hadn't been able to afford much when he'd asked. I don't care about the ring, Killian. I just care that I'm finally going to be Mrs. Killian Jones. The bottle hit the wall with a crack. Killian watched morosely as the liquor dripped from the wall onto the floor. It was really over. After eight years, it was over.

Without cleaning the mess, he turned and grabbed another bottle of rum from his stash in the cabinet. If she wanted to hurt him, she'd done a bloody good job of it. He opened the bottle and swallowed a mouthful. In fact, he wasn't just hurt… he was in pieces. Pieces that only Emma could put back together. He clenched the ring back to his chest. Taking another mouthful of rum, he made his way to the living room. More tears flooded his eyes as he plopped onto the couch.

How do you fix a relationship when one person clearly doesn't want it to be fixed?

Killian's body jerked into consciousness. His eyes slowly opened to see David sitting across from him on the remains of the coffee table, his concerned gaze focused entirely on Killian. Bloody hell. Why did he think it was a good idea to give him a key to the house? Furthermore, why did he think it was a good idea to invite him over this morning? He should've known his first night back was going to end up with him passing out drunk.

"You know, Jones, rum really isn't a solution to everything." Arching an eyebrow, David gave Killian a knowing look.

Killian's head fell backwards as he looked at the ceiling. No, rum wasn't a solution for his problems but, seeing as he really didn't know what the solution was, rum was as good an option as any. Arching his back, he attempted to work out all the kinks that came with sleeping on the couch. His head was pounding, bloody hell, his body ached.

"What's this?" David's perplexed voice interrupted Killian's assessment of his ailments, causing him to turn his gaze to what David was referring to.

His heart seized in his chest. Buggering fuck. Emma's wedding ring. He must have dropped it onto the couch while he was sleeping. This was not a conversation he wanted to have first thing in the morning, actually this wasn't a conversation he wanted to have ever. Especially not with his wife's best friend's husband. It didn't matter how close he and David were, he was still Mary Margaret's husband.

"It's nothing, David." He tried to sound nonchalant, but his voice came out colder than he intended and he knew David noticed it.

"Really? Because it sure looks like something to me." David's head dipped to the side, eyebrow shooting up in objection.

"Leave it alone, mate." Now, Killian's voice was hard as his eyes silently begged David to, just this once, listen to his pleas.

"I don't think I will." David shook his head slowly. "What is it, Killian?"

Killian burst up from the couch, almost knocking David over in the process, as his hands soared through the air. "Bloody hell, mate! It's Emma's wedding ring! Now can you leave this the fuck alone?"

His chest was heaving as he looked at David who, at least, had the decency to look contrite for a moment. Killian ran a hand through his hair. He should have put the damn thing away when he'd found it. Hide it so he never had to see it again. All it did was remind him of what he's lost, what he'd been helpless to stop.

"Where did you find it?" David's small voice caused Killian to roll his eyes in exasperation. His friend stared intently at the ring as he twirled it between his thumb and forefinger. Looking at his friend, Killian's stomach twisted because he knew David wasn't going to let this go.

"On the floor in our bedroom. When I came home last night I checked the bedroom, I thought..." Killian diverted his gaze to the floor. "It doesn't matter what I thought. When I turned to leave I saw it on the floor."

He didn't want to talk about what had happened after he found it. He didn't want David to know that finding that ring had felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest, how he felt like his whole life was ending as his hands wrapped around it. Killian slammed his eyes shut in an attempt to keep the newly formed tears from falling. He knew that going out with Tink would anger Emma, but he'd been convincing himself that if he could just talk to her he'd be able to explain and smooth things over. He'd been kidding himself. Finding that ring made him realize, for the first time, that he might not be able to fix things between him and Emma, that he might actually lose her.

"Killian…" He heard David rise and a moment later his hand squeezed Killian's shoulder gently. Lifting his eyes, Killian was stunned to find determination in his friend's eyes.

"Go take a shower, then you and I are going to talk. Really talk." David squeezed his shoulder again and gently pushed him toward the stairs.

As Killian walked toward the stairs, he knitted his eyebrows in confusion. He'd been talking to David since all of this madness had started, what could he possibly have to say that was any different from what Killian had already heard? Sighing, he walked up the steps toward the bathroom.

Killian shoved his head under the warm stream of water and placed both palms flat against the wall. He watched dejectedly as the water droplets fell from the tips of his hair onto the floor below. The shower was having the desired affect on his body, he could feel his muscles relaxing further with every minute he stood there.

He wished it would have the same affect on his mind which was currently, as always lately, on Emma. He wanted to tear the hair straight from his head in frustration. He still loved her, bloody hell did he love her. She was it for him. She always had been, which is why he couldn't understand what was happening.

His mind raced through all of his interactions with Emma over the last several months before she'd left and came up with nothing to indicate her leaving him. It made no fucking sense. More than ever, he wished she would just talk to him, wished she would give him a clear understanding of how everything had fallen apart around him. But, she wouldn't talk to him, she was avoiding him at all costs.

His hand lightly pounded the shower wall. She came home and cleaned up his mess, put the house back in order in a gesture of what exactly? Why did she even care what the house looked like if she had no intention of living here with him? Which brought him back to the issue of why she even left in the first place.

All of her avoidance seemed to be centered around him. She had no problem coming to the house, as long as he wasn't there. She wouldn't answer his calls, the one time she called him she had avoided anything that was related to him and their relationship. Tears mixed with the water drops on his cheeks. If he had done something, then what the bloody hell was it? Why had she not addressed the issue with him instead of running from the problem?

Shutting the water off, Killian took a calming breath. Analyzing hadn't helped him in the past three months and it wasn't going to now. The only person who knew why she left was Emma and it seemed she had no desire to share. Killian reached for the towel and wrapped it around his body. David was waiting.

Hair still damp from the shower, but thankfully dressed in a new pair of jeans and red henley, Killian came down the stairs to see David sitting at the bar. In the middle of the countertop was Emma's wedding ring and a tall glass of water. The latter of which, David pushed toward him as soon as Killian entered the kitchen.

"Drink this. We both know you've had far too much rum lately." David gave him a friendly smile.

Even though he had no desire to drink water, Killian lifted the glass, tipped it in David's direction, and swallowed a mouthful.

"Happy, Dad?" Killian rolled his eyes at his friend's antics before placing the glass back on the countertop.

"Immensely. Now, what are we going to do about you and Emma?" David grew serious, staring down Killian.

Killian shook his head and took another sip of water. "Right now? I just don't know."

That was the most frustrating part about this whole thing, the fact that he didn't know what to do, didn't know what Emma wanted him to do.

"What do you mean you don't know?" David's voice rose in anger as he slammed a fist onto the countertop. "You're home for at least two weeks. That is two weeks you can use to win her back. Two weeks to, at the very least, talk to her. Come on, Killian, you have to at least have an idea."

Killian looked at his friend, whose body heaved from yelling, and set his glass back on the counter. His shoulders dropped in defeat. "That's the problem, mate. I have no idea how to proceed. In the last three months she has called me once, to tell me to get the reporters off her back, while I've called her over and over again."

He paused, hand coming up to scratch behind his ear, eyes landing on Emma's wedding ring. He reached out to touch the ring, before yanking his hand back as if he'd been burned. He let out an anguished sigh. "I stopped calling a couple of weeks ago, because I thought that was what she wanted. Then, I come home and find out that she cleaned the house after I destroyed it."

He looked up at the ceiling as his brain tried to come up with an explanation for her actions. Finding none, he looked back to David who was watching him intently. "I'm at a loss, mate. A part of me wants to find her and make her talk to me, so at the very least I get some answers. At the same time, I know pushing her...well it never ends well and she has made it quite clear she has no desire to speak to me."

David shook his head, giving Killian a pointed look. "What happened to 'A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets?' Choose option A, fight for her, make her see that you're hurting, too."

Killian's eyes widened as he gripped the countertop, heart pounding rapidly in his chest. "Fight for her?" His voice rose as his eyes widened in disbelief. "Make her see that I've been hurting, too?" Pointing to the wedding ring on the counter, he continued, his voice rising with every word. "She left her fucking wedding ring for me to find, Dave." Blinking back frustrated tears, his hand curled into a fist before slamming onto the countertop. "I have been fighting for her. That's all I have done since the day she left me. I can't make her talk to me, I can't make her listen. I can't fight for a bloody thing, if she doesn't want to be fought for."

Arms resting on the counter, his head fell forward to land in his hands. His fingers swiped furiously at the lingering tears in his eyes as he attempted to control his breathing.

"No, you're right. You can't make her listen, but maybe she would be more willing to do so if she hadn't watched you roam all over the country with your new blonde girlfriend for the last three weeks." Eyes wide, Killian lifted his head from his hands. David's eyes were blazing, eyebrow arched in challenge. His lips pressed into a thin line. All of the anger coursing through Killian's body disappeared at his friend's look.

Swallowing nervously, Killian opened his mouth to speak, but choked on his words. "I...She… It's not what you think." He held his hand up defensively before shaking his head.

"Doesn't really matter what I think, Killian. What matters is what Emma thinks, what Emma saw. Which is you, moving on." David's fingered tapped the countertop as he waited for Killian's response.

Killian's chest deflated as he looked down. "I know." His voice was brittle as he tried desperately to find the words to explain. "It was Malcolm's idea. He hired her to make the fans think I was happy. I just had to play the part." He shifted from one foot to the other, before meeting David's eyes.

"So you thought it was a good idea then? Did you even think of Emma at all through this process?" David's words were harsh as he pointed at Emma's wedding ring. "You were so torn up about finding this. How do you think Emma felt seeing you with another woman? That doesn't sound like fighting for her. In fact, it sounds quite the opposite."

"I know!" Killian threw his hands into the air. "I didn't know what else to do! Of course I thought about Emma! I know that it was wrong and I know blaming Malcolm doesn't excuse the fact that I went along with it. I..."

"She was crying at work the other day." David whispered, causing Killian to end his speech and return his gaze to his friend.

"What?" His breath hitched causing his voice to break. David narrowed his eyes in Killian's direction.

"Mary Margaret told me. Ruby also told Mary Margaret that during the VMAs, she broke down after your interview and locked herself in her room." Killian's heart fell to his stomach, face crumpling in agony.

"I was just trying to keep the fans happy, to keep the ticket sales up. I… I never meant to hurt her." His voice was barely a whisper. How had he let this happen? He was supposed to be fighting for her, not hurting her. Yet, he'd succeeded in doing just that.

"But you did Killian, and from my understanding… she's hurt pretty badly. The question is... what are you going to do about it?" David's hand reached forward and nudged Emma's wedding band in his direction before meeting Killian's distressed gaze. "What exactly is your wife worth to you?"

"Everything." He didn't even have to think when David asked the question. He had made mistakes recently. He knew that, accepted it, but none of his mistakes would ever change the way he felt about his wife. Ever.

"Good. Then, I'd say it's time for you to start actually fighting to win Emma back. What do you think?" David raised an expectant eyebrow in Killian's direction.

"Aye, mate. I think that sounds about right." Killian reached out and grasped Emma's wedding ring in his hand. He didn't know how, but he would show Emma that he still loved her. He would apologize for giving into Malcolm's demands and then explain that there was no other woman for him except her, not Tink, not anyone.

"Good and lucky for you... I have an idea. It's a little radical, but it might work." David's eyes lit up, lips curling into a smile.

Biting his lip, he glanced at Emma's wedding ring in his hand. Radical? His eyes moved back to David, whose eyes softened for the first time since Kilian's outburst. David had never led him astray before, why would he start now? His gaze shifted back to the wedding ring, it's diamond shining in the light. A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets. Was he willing to fight, really fight, to fix his marriage, to bring Emma back home? Until his dying breath.

"I'm listening, mate."

This was crazy, absolutely insane. What the bloody hell was he doing here? It had been three days since his talk with David, three days since he'd agreed to the plan David had come up with. 'Radical' David had said, bloody outrageous it was.

Killian rolled his eyes when David waved to him happily from the grill. His friend was chatting with one of the many guests in the backyard. His thoughts returned to Emma as he made his tenth lap around the Nolan's backyard. She was going to be livid. She might not ever talk to him again. He let out a frustrated huff. It wasn't like she was talking to him now, anyway. At least this way, he'd have a better chance than all the times he'd called her, this time he would be standing right in front of her.

The plan was simple really, David and Mary Margaret were having a cookout and Emma was invited. David wanted Killian to show up and confront her, try to get her to talk to him. It seemed great on paper, but Killian was still unsure. This went against everything she had been silently telling him she wanted through her actions. He only hoped she didn't react too badly.

Suddenly, he saw a flash of blond out of the corner of his eye and his attention was drawn to the back door. Emma walked out with Mary Margaret in tow. Before Emma could spot him, he slipped behind a tree.

She was smiling at something Mary Margaret had said, but her smile didn't reach her eyes, it wasn't the one that lit up the room. Killian's heart sank. His lips turned down in a frown. This was his fault. Those damned appearances with Tink had done this to her. His cowardly actions had caused her to withdraw. She was too thin, too pale. Her eyes dull, listless. And yet, she was easily the most beautiful woman here.

He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to her. They ached to cradle her head in them, to caress her cheek and trace her lips. It was time to talk to her, if he waited much longer he would lose his nerve.

Lifting one converse-covered foot after another, he stepped out from behind the tree. She chose that same moment to turn toward him. His eyes met her emerald ones and, just like the very first time he saw her, he was lost.

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you feel up to it. :)