AN: Here's an extra (unintended) chapter before the next, final chapter. I was going to have this as one longer chapter, but when I got halfway through I realized that if I put it all together then it would become a monster, which means this chapter is a bit shorter, but also that you get this chapter earlier while I'm still writing the rest. Yay?

Chapter Eight

Closing her eyes, Emma took in a deep breath and let herself get lost in the feel of the breeze tangling in her hair and the way the air smelt just before dusk. Her fingers squeezed gently at the rail of the Jolly Roger, and she let herself admit that yes, she did like this fantastical world.

Maybe one day I can find a home here, she thought, and promised herself that she'd actually try to work herself toward that. This world was where her family called home, and right now they were sacrificing that to be with her. One day Ill return the favour.

This would be their last night in the Enchanted Forest. They were all eager to get home but Mary Margaret had begged a boon of them: one last trip to their castle to retrieve some of Emma's baby things. No matter how excited Emma was for the real world - and artificial heating - she couldn't think about that without feeling a lump grow in her throat, and nobody had been able to deny her.

The last few days had flown by, and Emma knew that she was running out of time. She'd made a huge mess of things with Neal and with Killian, and she knew that if she didn't find the courage to sort it out before they reached Storybrooke then Killian would more than likely drop them off and then turn right around again, and she'd never forgive herself if she didn't at least try to sort everything out. The problem was, she couldn't fix anything without someone getting hurt - more than she'd already caused, anyway. And to even have a chance of changing anything she'd have to admit just how very, very wrong she'd been.

Somehow, she'd managed to avoid both Killian and Neal in the past few days. She had no idea whether Neal thought that something was actually wrong between them or if she was just upset about their argument, but either way she hadn't felt up to facing him until she sorted her mind out. And her heart.

No, that was a lie. She knew exactly what her heart wanted. She just didn't know if she could convince her mind that she could have it.

She'd been ready to jump in head first with Killian, and she had a feeling that he'd known it, too. Their few lust-fueled couplings had turned into something so much more after Henry had been found and she'd finally been able to focus on just what was going on between the two of them. At the time, she hadn't had so many excuses not to trust him - hadn't even strongly considered the fact that he might not be good for her and Henry. He'd fought so hard to get her son back, and she'd felt surprisingly sure that the two of them could become something more. That they'd work.

But then Neal had appeared out of thin air, alive, existing, and she'd had another option. She had somewhere to run to, something to hide behind and her insecure, broken heart had suddenly dug up all of these reasons that her and Killian wouldn't work, that they couldn't. All of these things that hadn't even occurred to her before suddenly were all that she could grasp onto, and she didn't even consider the voice inside her that said if they talked about it, maybe it wouldn't be all she feared.

She'd run, she'd hidden, and she'd broken everything.

Unfortunately, avoiding them both had been much easier said than done. She knew that the easiest way to avoid one was to be with the other, but that wasn't going to get her anywhere. Staying out of Neal's way was easier - he manned the ship at night and slept most of the day, so all she had to do was time when she went to bed around when he wasn't there. Killian should have been another matter, since to avoid Neal when he was awake during the day all she had to do was spend her time on deck with him, but she did her best to keep her distance. He could have called out to her, or locked the wheel in place and come to her, but after a few days in which he didn't talk to her, she started to wonder if she'd pushed him away for good. But she felt his eyes on her.

All the time, she felt his eyes on her.

Just like now. She felt very self-aware, knowing that he was watching her. So much so, in fact, that she didn't notice someone approaching her until they were right beside her, leaning his side against the rail and crossing his arms across his chest. 'Can you stop avoiding me for five minutes?'

Startled, Emma jumped slightly, then turned her head to look at him. Neal looked back at her with an expression that wasn't quite anger... maybe annoyance, but mostly resignation. She opened her mouth to say that no, she wasn't avoiding him and he was stupid to think so, but after a moment she closed her mouth and sighed. 'I'm sorry, Neal,' she said quietly, looking back out to the sea.

He was silent for a moment, and out of the corner of her eye she could see that he was still watching her. 'For avoiding me or for something else?'

Emma closed her eyes, breathing in the ocean. 'For everything.' Steeling herself, she opened her eyes and turned toward him so they stood square to each other. 'I'm sorry that I've caused such a mess.'

He regarded her silently for a good few seconds before he sighed quietly, letting his arms drop and resting one on the rail of the ship. 'I should have realized that things might have changed while I was gone,' he admitted.

The knowledge that she wouldn't have to spell it out to him that they weren't going to be together made her feel like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She smiled at him faintly. 'I really did want to try and make things work,' she told him.

'For Henry?'

She would have done anything for Henry, but she knew that the kid would never forgive her if he found out she'd forced herself into something that her heart wasn't in to make him happy. 'Not just for Henry,' she said, and finally gave thoughts to something that had been tucked into the back of her mind ever since she'd run into him - literally - in Manhattan. 'For the past that we had together, too. I... I wanted it to mean something.' She felt awkward, and looked away, twisting the hem of her shirt in her hand. 'Meeting you changed me forever, Neal, and it felt like the only good thing that came from that was Henry. And even him, I wasn't ready to have for ten years. Hell, I still don't know if I'm ready,' she said, laughing humourlessly in a stupid attempt to take away some of her own seriousness. Looking up, she saw that he didn't appear to find her funny.

'I thought that if we could be happy together now, then maybe it would take away some of the pain I've been living with ever since you left,' she continued, swallowing away her apprehension. 'But being with you isn't making my life feel lighter.' Again she hesitated, then went for broke. 'I don't think I can trust you like I need to,' she admitted. 'I can't trust you not to break my heart again.'

His expression didn't change, but his eyes flickered between hurt and anger before finally settling on resentment. 'But you can trust him?' he asked bitterly, and she didn't need to ask who he was referring to.

She didn't bother asking how he knew, or how much he knew; it would just make an awkward situation worse. 'He came back,' she said simply.

Scowling, Neal stepped up to her, his fist clenching on top of the rail. 'I came back!'

What? Staring at him incredulously, it took a hell of a lot of effort to swallow her anger, unwilling to argue and make this worse. It only worked a little bit, however, and she stepped forward as well, poking him hard in the chest. 'You did nothing of the sort! I had to run you down on the street, Neal! And yeah, you may have come to your apartment to make sure Gold didn't hurt me, but if it weren't for Henry, you never would have stayed further than that. You were engaged!'

He was staring at her blankly. Lost for words, or nothing to say? It only fueled her on. 'You say that you've been waiting for me for almost twelve years but as soon as you had the chance, you didn't take it! You knew where I was when August came looking for me, and you knew when the curse was broken. So don't you dare tell me that you came back for me!'

Breathing hard, she turned and paced a few steps away from him, needing the distance. She hadn't intended to dig up these feelings for him, but apparently she'd been holding onto them for too long.

'Emma, I'm sorry,' she heard after a few minutes, and she slowly turned around and walked back to him, looking down at her feet. He closed the space that she'd left between them and took both of her hands in his, squeezing them gently. 'I knew you'd be angry with me, and that's why I stayed away. I know it's not an excuse...'

No, it's not.

'No, it's not,' she whispered.

After a moment he dropped his hands and she stepped back. His face fell at her movement, and although she felt bad for him, she mostly just felt awkward. She'd never had anyone who cared about her enough to be sad that she was breaking up with them. Hell, she'd never really broken up with anyone before. She clearly wasn't very good at this whole thing.

'I won't leave Henry,' he warned her.

He warned her? She smiled at him viciously. 'If you left him I'd hunt you down and rip your heart out myself.'

They stared at each other for a few moments before his eyes crinkled and he chuckled. 'Who would have thought we'd end up here, huh?'

Emma hesitated. This was his peace offering and she was reluctant to take it so simply, but when it really came down to it, they'd have to at least have a non-hostile relationship for Henry's sake if he was going to stay in their lives. 'Well, I'm pretty sure you had an idea long before I did, Baelfire,' she said dryly, but rolled her eyes and smiled at him to let her know her heart wasn't in it.

She didn't think she'd ever forgive him for the mess he'd left her life and her heart in. But maybe, for Henry at least, they could co-exist.

Neal glanced upwards, then up to the helm. Emma started to follow his gaze instinctively, but caught herself. 'It's getting late. I better take over my turn at the wheel.'

Emma turned back to the ocean as he took his leave. Crossing her arms on the rail, she rested her forehead on them and took in a deep breath. There were other things to talk about, to sort out - not only between the two of them, she supposed, but with Regina as well - but at least the hard part was out of the way. Straightening and looking out at the waves, she felt more free than she'd felt in a while. He'd been hurt, but that was unavoidable, and the still-bitter part of her told herself that he couldn't be more hurt than how she'd felt, alone in prison with a baby she couldn't keep. That pain still ached, and she guessed that it meant that some part of her still wanted him, wanted things to work out. But...

Seventeen year old Emma was still in love with Neal. But Emma wasn't seventeen years old anymore, and the person that she was now didn't truly love Neal Cassidy.

Twenty eight year old Emma loved Captain bloody Hook.

Sighing, she ran her hand through her hair and then rested her chin in her palm, her elbow on the rail. They had one more night before they reached Storybrooke.

Hopefully it would be enough.


One more day, and he could rid himself of this gods-damned situation for good.

Killian stood at the helm, wheel in hand and hook, legs spread slightly to keep himself steady. It had been a long day, and his legs and feet had begun to ache from keeping him upright and in the same spot all day. He was used to spending long stretches of time on his feet, but a whole day at the helm coupled with how little sleep he'd had for the last few nights was beginning to take its toll on him. He'd started to run low on rum, but had saved a bottle or two for tonight, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get through it unless he drank himself to sleep.

Would he have enough time in Storybrooke tomorrow to replenish his stores? Or should he just get in and out as quickly as possible, and hope that he could find another place to find enough liquor to drown in?

Against his will, his eyes focused again at the woman standing on the foredeck. She had no consideration at all; how was he supposed to avoid looking at her if she stood right where he needed to look to navigate the bloody ship? And if he saw her, his thoughts went immediately to how well they fit together - or at least so he thought (she apparently had a different point of view) - and that was the last thing he wanted to be thinking about.

He couldn't help himself, and continued to watch her, trying to drink in every image he could while he was still able. And so he was watching when Baelfire came above deck and instead of approaching him to relieve him of his spot at the helm for the night, went in the opposite direction and walked up to Emma.

Killian felt his stomach twist, but didn't look away. The two of them talked for a few minutes, and he was glad that he couldn't hear what they were saying. But then they stepped closer to each other and Emma's voice started getting louder, and now that he could hear her raised voice over the wind, he wished he could hear her, to help her. But he knew she could look after herself, and wouldn't want his help anyway. Baelfire seemed to be just standing it and taking it.

She turned and walked away from him, and Killian watched her running her hands through her hair, rubbing them over her face. He felt a spark of pleasure that they were fighting and didn't even have the shame anymore to feel guilty for it, although he'd have given anything to be the one to comfort her and calm her down.

But after a few minutes she turned around and walked back to Baelfire, their hands joining between them. Huffing out a breath, Killian looked away, turning his eyes to the coast in the distance that they were following. Stop getting your hopes up, you bloody fool. Why couldn't he just accept that what he wanted wasn't going to happen?

Because it should happen, damn it!

Killian reluctantly looked back over to the foredeck and saw that there was some space between Emma and Baelfire again, and Baelfire was looking up at him. The sun had set only a few moments ago, so he could still see him clearly. Their eyes met for a long moment before Baelfire turned back to Emma briefly, then started to make his way up to the helm.

He let his eyes linger on Emma for a moment more as she turned her back on them, then glanced at Baelfire. The two of them eyed each other for a few seconds, and Killian was confused by the look of resentment on the other man's face. Nodding sharply at him, he relinquished the wheel and headed toward the steps to the main deck.

'I don't blame you.'

Slowly, Killian turned around to face Baelfire. He now stood at the helm of ship as if he belonged there, and just the sight of it made his chest ache for the opportunity that they'd missed. How different would their lives have been if he hadn't let the boy force him away all those years ago, if he hadn't let the lost ones take him?

Shaking away the thought, he made himself consider what Baelfire had said, his words contradictory to his expression just moments before. The two of them had barely spoken to each other since Emma had gone overboard, and hadn't spoken at all while they were alone since then. He automatically assumed that he was talking about Emma - maybe that's what they'd been arguing about - but thought better of acting on that assumption in case she hadn't said anything about their tryst.

He opened his mouth to ask what for, but Baelfire beat him to it. 'Just like you, I've spent my whole life holding onto resentment - for you, for my mother, my father.' He adjusted his grip on the spokes and shifted uncomfortably. 'I know that... none of it was your fault. My father was the one who killed her, not you, and it was my mother's decision to leave us. You didn't force that.'

Feeling a painful heaviness settling on his chest, Killian let himself dwell on what he'd once hoped so strongly for; a woman by his side, and a son to call his own. Milah, and Baelfire. And him, together. Even when Milah had been taken for him, he'd still had his chance with the boy, and that loss had snapped the last fraying thread that was his moral.

'I should have refused her,' he said hollowly, knowing that he never would have had the strength to turn her away. 'I should have made her stay with you.'

Baelfire's eyes were on him, searching. 'No,' he said slowly. 'She followed her heart. I can resent her for leaving me, but I can't hate her for that.'

Pushing down his swirling emotion, Killian forced a smile. Not one part of him could believe that they were having this conversation, but he wasn't about to push the lad away when he was reaching out. No matter what else was going on, maybe he could take a step toward salvaging one relationship. 'She was a marvelous woman,' he said warmly.

'Yeah,' Baelfire said quietly, and Killian realized that he wasn't looking at him anymore, but rather over his shoulder. Turning, he followed his gaze to look at Emma, still standing with her back to them, watching the ocean.

A marvelous woman. He could have had that chance again, a chance at family. Emma, and Henry... And unbelievably, even Snow and David had stopped showing him so much disdain. But no, this family life apparently wasn't for him.

And he couldn't take anymore. Not sober, anyway. Bidding Baelfire a hasty goodnight, he made his way below deck to his rum, and his regret.

AN: I hope you liked this chapter!

Neither of these two scenes were in my original plan, but by the time I got to this point I really felt like they were needed. I thought that Emma and Neal deserved some resolution before the end of the story, and I didn't want it to happen after the next chapter since I didn't want to end my Captain Swan story with Emma and Neal. And the story in general turned out to have a bit more Captain Fire feels than I'd planned, so I thought that they could have some resolution too.