Hope you are still enjoying this fic. Coming to the close on it soon, but here's another chapter in the meantime. Enjoy!

The apartment was dark when Emma arrived, but she had lived there long enough that she could feel her way over to the lamp and illuminate the room easily enough. A stack of mail under one arm, leftover take out in one hand and her phone in the other, she limped to the couch and fell back against the cushions with a grunt.

Killian had texted her twice since she had left the hospital, once to make sure she knew where her prescription for pain medication was and once to wish her a good night. At the time she had not thought much of the texts, concentrating on the cryptic answers from Edward and trudging away at a new set of research parameters that the questioning opened up for the team. It seemed odd to her as she struggled out of the boots that felt tight around her swollen ankle that he would not have offered to stop by or even bring her something. She didn't expect him to do that, but it seemed to be something he did quite frequently.

Emma: Just got home. Going to ice the ankle and pop some meds.

Killian: Sounds like a plan. Hope it feels better soon.

She frowned at the almost clinical words on the screen. Not that everything had to be laden with innuendo or romance, but Killian was rarely that practical in his exchanges. She waited a moment, hoping that maybe he would follow it up with a comment about wanting her to be able to wear heels again or offering to make her breakfast in bed. However, no message came.

Emma: Are you alright?

The dots indicating he was typing a message seemed to go on forever. Given the short nature of the message that followed, Emma was sure he had typed something and replaced it with the shorter answer.

Killian: Fine. Just tired. Sweet dreams.

Wishing him a good night, Emma attempted to finish the rice bowl that she had grabbed from the pile of food at the station and then ready herself for bed. She hadn't spent every night with Killian over the past few weeks, but it felt rather empty to slide into bed without his arms around her. There was no warm breath on her neck or at her ear. The whispered comments were silent and she felt no warmth of his body next to hers.

For years Emma had sought out the solitude of her own place. As a child she hid under the covers of her bed and pretended it was her own room. The first time she had moved into her apartment, she had danced across the floor with the freedom that it provided. She loved ice cream in a shirt and no pants. Her favorite nights were watching reruns of Sex and the City while giving herself a pedicure. To bring someone else in, even as a guest, meant that she had to lose a bit of that. She had to have food and drinks in the kitchen instead of take out menus. She had to wear matching clothes and pick up after herself. But maybe, Emma thought, maybe it was worth it.

She shifted in the bed, flipping to her other side and wondering what she had done that made Killian so distant. She wasn't all that surprised that he was, but still it hurt a bit. Much more than a bit, if she was being honest with herself. To her horror she saw that her hand had reached out to the spot in the bed where he would have been, almost searching in vain for the beat of his heart under her fingers.

Even with the added benefit of the pain medication and her tired state, sleep did not come for her. She closed her eyes, imagining things she did not want to see at the moment. Her body seemed to be unable to relax, muscles tight and drawn as she waited.

"You're losing it," she told herself, throwing back the cover. All the magazines said to turn off your phone at night, let those work things go until morning. However, work was one of the few places Emma could find solace. Skimming through her e-mails she knew that things were progressing on the search for Anna, but it was still slow going. Edward had offered so little, but she knew he was involved. Call it a gut instinct, but she was convinced. She supposed she could call David or even John who was on duty that night. Maybe they would talk through this with her, help her brainstorm where else they could look while waiting for Edward to crack.

However, it wasn't their voices she wanted to hear. It was his. She wanted to talk to Killian, a thought that still did scare her a little. Before her nerves and self doubt could stop her, she pressed the speed dial button for him and waited for his familiar voice. She heard it after a few rings, but it was not as she had hoped with his recorded voice telling her to leave a message. Leaving a hasty one, she felt wholly unsatisfied and removed herself from the bed to pad back into the living room.

As was usual with her dance of insomnia, she turned on the television and flipped mindlessly through the channels. Clearly he was tired and sleeping, she told herself. It wasn't a sign of his disinterest in her, she added hastily. He wasn't having doubts already, but what if he was. Her feet and legs were propped inelegantly on the arm of her couch and she was hugging a throw pillow to her chest as an infomercial for a cleaning solution flickered on the television screen.

Maybe he would call, she thought to herself, staring as the screen of her phone faded to black.

***AAA***

Emma was not the only one with a ritual for insomnia. Killian suffered much the same fate as he read the same passage in his novel for the third time. The knitted throw that he could not remember how he originally came across was pooled around his lap, an excruciating reminder that Emma was not there stealing the blanket from around him.

In one of his more juvenile moments, Killian had seen Emma's name pop up on the screen of his phone and refrained himself from answering. Perhaps she knew that he was screening or perhaps she thought that he was asleep. Either seemed preferable to explaining the mix of thoughts inside his head.

He was proud of Emma, excited that she had found a career that both challenged and excited her. He'd watched snippets of the press conference and fallen all over himself with delight for her confidence and poise. But it didn't stop the fear inside him that had bubbled under the surface and now undeniably had reared its ugly head. The contempt he felt for his fear was palpable as he reminded himself over and over that she was doing her job – an admirable one that he envied and admired for its public service.

"I'm a selfish bastard," he thought as the words on the page swam with illegibility.

But even that knowledge about himself did not quell the frightening images of her lying in a pool of blood or a late night visit from David to tell him of her injury or death. He knew that their time together had been short so far, but he could not quite hold together the thought that it could be that fleeting. He wasn't sure that he was capable of seeing her leave each day without begging her to be safe and stay with him.

He'd been there before. He'd seen his father walk away without realizing it was the last time. His mother had been ill, but Killian had not realized the extent until his brother had delivered the news that she was now gone. He knew the saying that you don't know the last time is the last time was a very true one.

Yet even with the fear, he felt even worse for pushing her away. He listened to her message, the cracking voice and doubt making his stomach sour. His thumb hovered over the phone as he contemplated what to say. How could he make her understand that this was his issue and she was not at fault for his shortcomings? The knock at his door indicated that he had no more time to think, as even before he answered it, he knew she would be standing there.

She looked so much younger and more innocent than her years in the blue sweatshirt with the faded logo from Boston University, her hair falling in tangled waves over her shoulders. A few of strands knotted into a braid, indicating her nervous habit that she had when stopped at traffic lights or sitting alone. He had seen her do it so many times that he always felt the need to pull her in for a hug when he saw the signs of her nervous finger work.

"Emma," he said, breathing out her name as though she might disappear in front of him or run if he said it too forcefully.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, her arms crossed in front of her chest. He looked down to see the loose sneakers on her feet and the white socks shining. It was clear that the one ankle was swollen and injured. A bruise had already darkened on one side of her face, purple and green against her white skin. "I…I thought…"

"Come in," he said, waving his arm as he pulled back the door to allow her entrance. She limped forward, her eyes down and shoulders forward as her hair tumbled closer to her face. "Let's get you off that ankle."

"You're mad," she said as she sat in the corner of the couch. Her muscles jumped under his touch as he lifted the injured appendage to an oversized pillow. "I guess I'm supposed to apologize."

He looked at her curiously, as though he did not fully understand why she would say that. "I'm not mad at you, love," he said quietly, gently stroking the curve of her ankle before retreating to get ice. As he emerged, he found her biting her lip and watching his movements carefully. "I'm honestly a bit perturbed with myself right now. I didn't mean for it to appear to be an issue with you."

She let out a short breath, swallowing hard as he placed the ice on her and gave her a gentle smile. "You just…I don't know…seemed different."

Sitting down on the couch next to her feet, he leaned his head on his hand and rested his elbow on the cushions. "I suppose I'm trying to figure that out about myself as well. You see, I knew your job from the night we met. You're proud of those accomplishments and you have every right to be. I would be daft to commit a crime in this town with the knowledge that you would be after me."

There was a barely perceptible shake to her head as she narrowed her eyes to look at him. "My job?"

"Aye, I suppose I got an eyeful today and it threw me. You see, love, I feel quite protective of you. It's not meant to be a bad thing. I am protective of everyone and everything I care about, as I suppose most people are if they are good people." His free hand closed over the package of ice, causing him to almost gasp at the frigidity. "Is this too cold?"

"It's fine," she said, still processing his statement. "Would you explain, please? I don't think I understand."

"Well then, it is a bit hard for me to explain. You see I care for you, Emma, a great deal actually." He quieted for a moment, grappling for the words as he turned his eyes from her. He considered it easier to say without the golden green orbs looking back at him with growing questions. "And today, being with you and seeing you run into that building…well, it was a lot harder than I ever considered. I've seen you at work with your desk and your files. I've seen you stare at computer screens and print outs until you're cross eyed, but it was different today."

"Because there was an actual person involved. It made it more dangerous." She supplied the answer for him and he nodded.

"I saw you enter that building and I didn't know how it would turn out. I didn't know…I didn't know if I would see you again or get to tell you that I care for you. It seemed too abrupt. It seemed too harsh somehow. Then I heard that you were injured and…and I could see all these images of you in my mind. I know you are good at your job. You don't take extra risks. You didn't do anything wrong and still…"

"I still got hurt," she finished for him. "It was minor, but you're afraid that it could be worse next time." She had had similar conversations with Mary Margaret about this exact same thing. Even a conversation with Marian before she had passed away. There was a fear associated with a relationship with a law enforcement officer.

"Aye, it is hard to think that you have such a job that run to not away from danger. I don't like the idea of seeing you suffer because of some criminal's maleficence."

Her head tilted to the side. "Do you not trust me? Do you not trust that I will do the right thing?"

"Aye," he said. "The issue isn't trusting you. It's the fact that I must rely upon the common sense of a common criminal. Emma, I know you are strong and brave, but I'm not sure I'm built of the same fortitude. I don't know what I would do if something were to happen to you." He looked uncomfortable as he tried to catch her gaze again. "I know that it is too soon and fast for such confessions. You're probably going to get scared by this."

"I'm okay," she said, a nervous smile on her face. "You may have noticed I care about you too. And I'm sorry that I made you worry. I guess I don't even think about those things now."

His hand traveled to readjust the ice, silently assessing her tolerance. "Love, I told you. You were simply doing your job. Probably brilliantly as always. I suppose it was just a bit of a wake up for me. I will be fine with it. Just give me a little bit of time." She had leaned forward toward him, her body in an L-shape.

"You know," she said, gnawing at the corner of her mouth. "I am not really used to people worrying about me. It's kind of a new road for me. Maybe there's something I could do to make it easier for you. I could…" She grew quiet, not sure what really would make a difference. "Are you wanting me to quit my job?" She asked it hesitantly, clearly unsure of the reaction she should be having.

"No, love," he said reassuringly. "I know that you love your job. It is what you want to do. It's…it's me. I'm having a hard time deciding how this all works. You're not responsible for that. You're not responsible for how I feel about my fears."

She remained quiet, her thick lashes blinking a few times. "Aren't I?" she asked after a few moments had passed. He raised an eyebrow in question to her. "Aren't I responsible for making you happy? If what I do bothers you so much, we have to find a solution. I don't know what that is, but there must be something." She reached out one of her arms, wiggling her fingers until he joined his free hand with hers. "Maybe I could be more open with you about things like that. Maybe call and tell you I'm okay. I could text you and say I made it home or back to the station or whatever."

"You would do that?" he asked, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "I thought you might protest that your independence would be compromised if I asked such a thing."

Considering that for a moment, Emma squeezed his hand back. "I'm not that good at these things. Remember we've established that already. But if a phone call or a text makes you more comfortable, how can I say no to that? You have said that you care about me enough to worry about me and my safety. I care about you too, Killian, enough to do what I can to make things easier on you." Her lips thinned a bit as she squeezed her mouth shut. "I don't know if I could quit my job, but a phone call or a text…seems easier to handle for someone I care for."

"I wouldn't ask you to do that," he said, his eyes blown open with the suggestion. "I'm not a complete Neanderthal."

"You're not one at all," she said softly. "It may be new for me or a little strange, but I kind of like that you worry about me. Not about this kind of thing, but the other stuff. You worry that I haven't had lunch or that I won't be able to find where you left my blanket in the morning. You worry about my car and if I am wearing a warm enough coat. It's…sweet."

Sitting up straighter, he lifted her legs into his lap, pulling her closer to him. She was giggling a bit as he did, including at his loud gasp as the bag of ice hit him in his leg. "I'm sorry," he said, tilting her chin so that he might kiss her with the apology. "I should have just told you that I was having concerns rather than holing up in here and sulking. I made you think you had done something wrong and that could not be less true."

She looped her arms around his shoulder and neck so that she could pull herself closer to him. "I'm glad you told me," she said. "I'm glad you're not so perfect after all."

***AAA***

Emma tried her best to cover the bruise to the side of her face and head with makeup, but the darkened area still remained pretty obvious. She could feel Elsa staring at it as she drove them out to meet with the state police. "Don't get your hopes up," Emma said, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel in the straightaways. "They didn't say what they found, but I don't hold out a lot of hope. They've been searching freight records and not actual ships."

"We've got to be getting closer," Elsa said, her own hands twisting and untwisting a bit of her hair. "They wouldn't call us down here to chat about a number being out of place. It has to be something."

The woman was usually dressed impeccably in tailored suits and designer shoes. That morning she was wearing jeans – designer of course – and a thick black cowl neck sweater that set off her fair hair and complexion. Emma had been the one to suggest something simpler given their location. She knew that the fishing and boating community would be more likely to talk to someone less intimidating and authoritative. Her own jeans were complimented with a flannel shirt and a worn leather jacket.

"We're making strides," Emma admitted. "Hans still isn't saying much, but Robin thinks he was able to track a money exchange between Edward and Hans. That's big. If we can get that confirmed, we can bring Hans back in under a court order. Then it's just a matter of breaking him."

"Just," Elsa scoffed. "I just wish we could find my sister and Kris. Everything else can fall into place. But she's back home and we're planning their wedding, I'm not going to feel like any of this progress is enough."

"Neither am I," Emma admitted, turning the wheels of her car sharply. While Emma and Elsa had both dressed to blend in with the local workers, the state police were much more conspicuous in the suits. As she pulled into an empty parking spot, Emma almost shielded her eyes from the shiny suit of the one officer standing outside trying to sneak a cigarette in the frigid air. He snarled at them as they emerged from the car. Since she had never met him before and never insulted as far as she knew, Emma could only assume that he somehow blamed the two of them for the weather and his struggle to light a cigarette in the wind.

Emma only gave him a cursory nod as the two women entered the warehouse structure and headed up the steep staircase to where the officers had set up a command center. Emma gave the younger woman to her left her badge number and waited for him to find the incident command officer.

The man, an older gentleman with silver around his temples, greeted them with a terse salutation and a motion toward the back of the room. He spared no time with them, explaining that there was another lead and that he and a team were preparing to set out after it.

"Where exactly?" Emma asked, feeling the excitement radiating off of Elsa. "Where do you think they are?"

Pulling a simple ink pen out of his breast pocket, the made a circle around an island and stretch of water just outside the Storybrooke Sound. "This general area is where we'd like to focus our search today," he said, pulling out a pair of dollar store readers. They sat crookedly on his nose. "We've heard a few confirmations of sightings matching the boat of Mr. Teach. That and a few other oddities tell me that this might just be the general vicinity."

Emma asked a few more questions, Elsa only piping in to ask if he thought her sister was still alive. She sighed audibly when he gave the noncommittal answer that he saw no reason to believe otherwise. Emma followed up with instructions that she Elsa would be joining the crew on the way to the island. "I insist," she said, eyes narrowed as he began to sputter a protest. "Nonnegotiable."

Elsa looked appreciative and mentioned as much when they were sent to procure life vests for the boat. "I'm used to people calling me bossy," Elsa admitted. "I've always been the one in charge."

Patting the weapon on her shoulder holster, Emma smiled. "The weapon helps add to the confidence a little." Elsa held the two life vests in her hands, watching from a distance as the teams loaded up supplies and began to call to each other with last minute instructions. From the corner of her eye she could make out Emma texting.

Emma: All's good here. About to head out with a search team. Talk soon?

Killian: Of course. I'll count the minutes.

A slow blush crawled up over Emma's cheeks. She was perfectly aware that the text was for her eyes only, but sometimes his sweet words became too much. He was even sweeter with his words now that they had experienced the trouble over job and his worries. She hoped that he would return to normal soon. As much as she didn't want to say the words aloud, she was seeing a future with this man and the thoughts scared her less every day.

She heard her phone chime and could feel the tug at her lips when she thought that it was Killian again. She was becoming one of those women, but it seemed okay. She wasn't as uncomfortable as she sometimes felt. She even had caught herself using the word love in her thoughts, but had not managed to say it aloud yet.

She lifted the phone back into her sight.

Neal: Since yesterday's plans were put off how about lunch today?

Swallowing her groan, she typed back that maybe it would be better later that afternoon, as she was in the midst of something important. Putting him off felt bad, even worse knowing the news she had to give him. She only hoped that she could help reunite Anna and Elsa before she had to deal with the father son issues in her life.

Thoughts?