a/n: Sorry this chapter took me so long to update! But here's the next chapter I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review if you feel so inclined :)

Emma watches in a numb sort of daze as Killian busies himself with setting up camp for the night. The sun is setting, but there is still enough light left in the sky that the dark cloud of smoke coming from The Swan's crash landing is perfectly visible, and though it is miles and miles away, she feels as though the smoke is smothering her, making it difficult to breathe.

All those people

She'd spent what felt like an eternity sobbing into Killian's chest, and now though she's regained some of her composure, a few silent tears still make their way down the salty path along her cheeks.

Killian's doing all the work, gathering the wood, and working on getting a fire started, but she just can't seem to make herself move. So instead she stands and watches him move about the little clearing. Feeling utterly useless, but too emotionally drained to do anything about it.

Killian, it seems, is well versed in the art of making fires, because within minutes there's a decent fire blazing, the flames growing larger as they flicker to life, heating up the cold, empty space around them.

"Emma, love," Killian's voice is soft, subdued, and Emma slowly shifts her gaze away from the flames and onto him. "Why don't you come sit down? We've had a long day, and it's going to be dark soon."

Nodding her head, she drags her exhausted limbs to the campfire and practically collapses in front of it. Killian lowers himself down across from her, letting out a long and weary sigh. She watches as he runs his hand through his hair and down the back of his neck before looking up at the sky.

Emma takes the opportunity to study him, and it isn't until just now that she notices the red around his eyes, that he probably has been crying just as much as she has.

It's hard to come to terms with the magnitude of what just happened. It's hard to accept that hundreds of people are probably dead. It's hard to accept that those people have loved ones at home who are currently unaware that their mother, or father, or child, is never coming home. It's all a little too much, and it creates an intense ache in her chest, stealing her breath.

"Do you think anyone made it?" It's the first thing she's said since the crash, and her voice sounds broken even to her own ears.

"I don't know, it's possible."

"It's just—" she takes in a deep shaky breath and finally lets herself think what she's desperately been trying to avoid. "Just that—Elsa, and Ruby were—" she chokes on another sob, "I don't know if they were—" Finishing her sentence proves to be impossible and she has to bring her hand to her mouth to try to keep the sobs at bay.

She thought she'd cried herself out earlier, but apparently she wasn't quite done. Killian shifts a little closer to her and gently pulls her hand from her mouth, his thumb rubbing soothing circles across the back of it.

It's the second time in less than an hour that she has let Killian Jones comfort her, and she honestly can't say that she minds.

"They might still be out there," his voice is low, and the deep timbre is soothing in its own way, "they may have managed to secure themselves in an escape pod, or it's possible they survived the crash." He gives her hand a small squeeze before releasing it. "But Emma, if they didn't… it's okay to grieve, it's okay to mourn their loss, but don't let it drown you, don't do that to yourself, love."

The sky is darkening, the last of the sunlight disappearing beneath the horizon, and the shadows from the flames dance across his face. Not once since he started talking has Killian moved his blue eyes from hers, so she's not startled when he lifts his hand to wipe away one of her tears with the back of his finger.

"All we can do in times like these," he continues, "is try to live in the here and now. Your friends, they would want you to keep living." He offers her a small, sad smile before pulling away slightly. "If there is one thing I have learned about death, it's that life is what demands to be remembered. Life is what lingers. It'll leave traces that never quite fade, and even years later can brighten with the slightest prompting. It'll happen when you eat Elsa's favorite dessert, or when you meet someone who uses the same hand gestures Ruby did. But no matter what, you'll always remember them; they can never truly leave you."

His words somehow manage to make her feel a little better, maybe not okay, but less like she's going to suffocate beneath her own anguish. "You seem to know a lot about death," she whispers, and watches as her words cause a flicker of despair to flash behind his eyes.

"Aye, though most of the time I wish I didn't."

He doesn't expand or offer any other information, and Emma finds herself wishing he would, maybe then she could offer him some small amount of the same comfort he's given her.

Killian clears his throat before standing and walking over to his pack. "We should eat and try to get some rest," he says, tossing her a ration bar. "We have two blankets, but I think we would both be warmer if we just made up one bed and slept next to each other."

Emma's eyes widen at his words, and suddenly her heart is racing due to feelings quite the opposite of sorrow and anxiety.

"I don't think that is such a good idea," she says, standing quickly. The very thought of him sleeping next to her, and her possibly wrapping herself around him while unconscious, is enough to make her blush. "It wouldn't be proper."

She's so preoccupied with avoiding his gaze that she doesn't notice the way his shoulders suddenly tense. "I'll just take this blanket," she takes one of the folded blankets from his hands and makes her way over to the opposite side of the fire, "and sleep over here, and you can sleep on that side."

"Your highness," the hardness in his tone catches her off guard and she finally looks at him. "Though I know I may be the last person you'd want to share sleeping arrangements with, we'd both be warmer, and therefore sleep better, if we were to share one bed."

She stares at him unable to come up with a response, mouth open, eyes blinking furiously.

He thinks she doesn't want to sleep next to him because she doesn't like him?

He huffs at her lack of response, shaking his head before lying down with his blanket and turning away from her.

But she's still standing, rooted to the same spot, staring at his turned back. The conversation where she had rudely pushed him away at the intent of protecting her own heart feels like it was a lifetime ago. Had it really only been a few hours? He'd shown her so much kindness, and been so soft with her, that she'd all but forgotten the way she had coldly rejected him.

Grabbing her blanket, Emma lies down on the opposite side of the fire; her mind still stewing over the fact that Killian probably thinks she hates him. When in fact, the reason she doesn't want to sleep next to him is quite the opposite. Somewhere between crash landing, trekking through the forest, crying in his arms, and crying in front of him again, she has maybe started to like him a lot more than she probably should. And that is in one day.

She's doomed.

Though maybe with the prospect of too blue eyes, dark hair, dimpled smiles, and warm, comforting arms, she could be okay with being doomed, in this instance, at least.

Killian was right though, and despite being next to the fire she's cold. It doesn't help matters that whenever she closes her eyes she sees The Swan falling over, and over again.

Curling into herself and wrapping her arms around her knees, Emma lets out a quite sigh, resigning herself to a long, sleepless night.

-CS-

When Killian wakes the next morning Emma is already up, sitting next to the fire and prodding the dying embers with a stick. She looks tired. Her eyes are swollen from crying the previous night and there are slight shadows underneath them, and the bruise across her forehead is impossibly darker than it had been yesterday.

"Morning," she barely looks away from what she's doing when she greets him.

"Good morning, did you sleep well?"

Her small shoulders lift in a tiny shrug, "I slept fine."

He knows she's lying, but he doesn't say anything, instead he busies himself with putting away the few things they'd gotten out, and dousing the fire completely.

Once there are no more embers to stab she stands, brushing her hands off on her dress and turning to face him. "So what's the plan now, lieutenant? Should we just wait and see if rescue comes now that we're a little more out in the open?"

"Actually," he smirks a little at the way she's standing with her arms crossed, looking at him expectantly. "I think it would be best if we started making our way to where The Swan crashed, the communications system in the pod was beyond hope, but maybe we can get something working on the spaceliner."

She looks absolutely distraught at the idea of walking all the way to the crash site. "You want to walk to The Swan? Its miles away! And I don't know if you noticed, but it fell behind a mountain."

"Were more likely to get rescued if we can get out some sort of signal, but if you wish to stay here, I could leave you with half the supplies, and come back to get you once I've figured out a means to communicate with your parent's kingdom."

"No, don't leave!" She looks even more panicked at the prospect of being left alone. "I'll come, I'm not averse to walking… it's just my shoes," there's a slight grimace on her lips as she gestures to the delicate evening wear around her feet, "are a little impractical and walking in them for long distances is a little difficult."

"Here, give them to me." He holds out his hand expectantly, and chuckles slightly at the way Emma's eyes narrow suspiciously.

Once she's handed them over, Killian easily snaps off the heels and gives them back. "There, walking should be a little easier now."

"Thank you," Emma sounds truly grateful and even though all he did was snap off a piece of her shoe, Killian's stomach flips at the way her eyes brighten when she smiles up at him.

"What, no righteous indignation that I've destroyed your shoes?"

"Please," she scoffs, rolling her eyes slightly, "like I care about my shoes."

Despite the fact that just last night she didn't even want to sleep next to him, Killian feels a little lighter at her response to his teasing, and he can't help but hope that perhaps she doesn't despise him as much as he thought.

"Ah, that's not very princess-like of you, now is it?"

"My tutors shall be absolutely devastated; I guess I'll just have to tell them it was your doing."

Killian has to bite his lip to keep from smiling, it's good to see her expression contain something other than the sadness of yesterday's tragedy, and he raises his eyebrow at the playful mischief dancing in her eyes. "And I will tell them it was all in the name of good form. That I was merely protecting the princess's lovely ankles."

She blushes at the word lovely, and that small spark of hope that she doesn't hate him flares a little brighter.

"I guess we're safe then," she says, smiling at him softly, "and really, I should be thanking you for offering such valiant service to the crown." She gives an extravagant little curtsey, and he can't seem to wipe the grin off his face.

"My pleasure, your highness."

Her eyes turn serious for a moment, and he's left a little breathless when her jade eyes blink up at him. When did he step so close to her?

"Do you think you could not call me your highness?"

She doesn't seem angry though, just thoughtful, "What would you like me to call you?" his voice comes out a little breathier than he'd like, and bloody hell, this woman does things to him.

"I don't know, I just liked when you didn't know who I was, and for all we know we're the only ones on this planet, so it seems a little ridiculous to refer to me as your highness…you could just use my name?"

Emma, he loves her name, loves the way it feels on his lips, but he's scared that if he says it too often she'll be able to discern just how much he's starting to like her. That by the way his voice wants to wrap around each syllable, she'll be able to hear just how much he's falling for her.

"Alright, Swan. Should we begin our arduous journey across these unchartered lands?" She smiles at the informal use of her surname, and he gathers that she doesn't often get the pleasure of having someone refer to her so casually.

Her expression is so open as she looks up at him, that Killian has to fight the urge to tuck a stray strand of her golden hair behind her ear. The intensity of this sudden desire surprises him, and so he takes a step back and scratches the back of his head nervously. "Right," he has to blink a few times and shake his head in order to clear it, "uh…yesterday I noticed that there is a little stream we can follow, it heads out quite a ways into the grassy plains, and travels in the direction we need to go. This way we won't have to worry about searching for water throughout the day, at least not for a little while."

"Okay," she says and begins walking in the direction he mentioned, "let's head out then."

Killian stands and watches her walk for the space of heartbeat before following after her, a ridiculous smile on his lips.