a/n: Thank you so much for every single follow/favorite/review. I get so excited every time I get a notification, and I love hearing your thoughts on what is going on. (Also one of my favorite scenes I've written for this story so far is at the end of this chapter, I'm sure you'll know which one) Thank you for reading!

Emma's supplies aren't difficult to locate since she'd dropped them just a little ways past the clearing in which the beast had cornered her in. From the looks of it, the cat had chased her back towards Killian, and he's just grateful that it hadn't been in the opposite direction.

If she'd run away from him, he's not sure he would have found her as quickly as he had. And though his dashing rescue ended up being unnecessary, his stomach plummets at the thought of what might have happened if he hadn't reached her in time, or if things hadn't played out as smoothly as they had.

But imagining what could have happened is torture, so he tries to push the images from his mind as they collect the scattered belongings and store them away in his pack.

Neither of them says much as they begin hiking up the mountain again, the only sounds between them are the low pants from their labored breathing, and the crunch of the undergrowth beneath their feet.

It's been a long day.

Not only does Killian feel entirely drained, but he's still on edge after their run in with the wild cat.

His senses are on overdrive. Every noise made by a harmless animal in the bushes, every time a bird takes off from a branch above them, every time the forest makes any noise at all Killian tenses, eyes darting to the source of the disturbance.

More often than not that source is Emma, and it's usually the sound of leaves springing free as she yanks at her dress. It keeps snagging on low hanging branches, in spite of her efforts to avoid them.

She can be a spitfire, it's one of the things he's noticed about her during their long hours trudging across this blasted planet. And it's apparent now in the way she wrenches at her dress a little harder than necessary, practically staring daggers at the affronting shrubbery.

Killian has to bite back a smirk when she finally gathers the majority of her skirt in her arms and huffs in irritation.

Her dress, which was once beautiful in its elegance, is now faded, and tattered. Nothing compared to the grandeur it had once exuded. It's now more peasant than princess. But Emma hadn't cared about her shoes, and he doubts she cares about her dress.

She likely sees it as a nuisance more than anything else.

But even with her worn-down, dirt-stained dress, she is still just as stunning as that first day he saw her. And more than once he catches himself staring at the way the setting sun reflects off her golden hair. Captivated at how whispers of that very hair will catch in the wind and settle softly between her lips, remaining there for the briefest of moments before delicate fingers reach up and tuck it safely away behind her ear.

Eventually she catches his gaze and electricity zips up his spine before they both hastily break eye contact and look away. But she's like a magnet, and Killian is nearly helpless to the way his sight seems to be drawn to her.

They lock eyes at least three more times before Emma finally breathes out an indignant, but slightly self-conscious, "What?"

It's not as though he can tell her that he'd been admiring the way she looked in the sunset, so he settles on teasing her instead.

"Having troubles with your dress, Swan?"

"It keeps getting caught," she sighs in exasperation. "Of all the things for me to be wearing before crash landing on some planet, this has got to be the most impractical. I'm about two seconds away from taking the damned thing off."

Her words are an obvious exaggeration, but Killian can't pass up the opportunity to arch his eyebrows at her suggestively, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

Emma simply rolls her eyes in response, "Don't even say it."

Yet, despite her words there is lightness in her tone, her small smile suggesting that she's not necessarily opposed to his playful antics.

"I have said nothing, love. I haven't the slightest inkling as to what you're referring too." He says, feigning innocence. "Though, I cannot find it within myself to be opposed to something that would make your journey easier."

"I'm sure," she laughs, "but you know what would really make my journey easier? If we stopped for the day."

Killian knows she's right. It's been a trying day and not just in the physical sense, it may be earlier in the evening then when they usually retire, but he doesn't think either of them can go much farther today. He doesn't even have to think twice about it before he's nodding his head once in agreement and telling her they'll stop the second they find a suitable place to rest for the evening.

Within minutes they find an area that is both flat and open enough to make camp. Together they gather kindling to make the fire, and Killian uses that time to check the area surrounding them for footprints that might indicate another large and dangerous animal.

Perhaps he's being paranoid, but he'd rather spend a few extra moments and check their surroundings than sacrifice his peace of mind.

Once he's satisfied that there aren't any tracks nearby, and the fire is blazing high enough he pulls the blankets from his bag and begins to make his bed for the evening. He suspects that it'll get colder up here in the mountains, so he situates himself as close to the fire as he reasonably can.

He'd suggest to Emma that, with the likelihood of the dropping temperature, it would be best to sleep next to one another. But he knows what her answer will be.

So he's not surprised when, just like she has every night, Emma takes her blanket and lies down on the opposite side of the fire.

-CS-

That night is the worst night's sleep Emma has experienced since they've been here. It's bitter cold and she gets up at least three times to stoke the fire and make the flames burn higher. Too soon the sun is rising and Killian is waking, and she is not ready to be up for the day.

Hoping to prolong the moment before she has to officially awaken, she pulls the blanket higher until it covers half her face, keeps her eyes shut and pretends to be asleep. This way if Killian wanders over and sees her, then he might not start closing down their little camp, which means she won't have to start walking yet.

But at some point pretending to be asleep, turns into actual sleeping, the added heat from the sun helping to thaw and relax her frigid muscles. By the time she opens her eyes again the sun is significantly higher in the sky.

A quick look around the camp shows her that Killian is lounging with his back against a tree, a long stick in one hand and tracing non-distinct patterns into the dirt.

Feeling stiff and cramped, Emma reaches her hands above her head and stretches, lengthening out all the way down to her toes, before sitting up and catching Kilian's eye.

"What time is it?"

He looks up at the sky, shrugs nonchalantly and replies, "Late morning or early afternoon would be my guess."

She stares at him, mouth falling open slightly and then looks up to see for herself. Sure enough the sun is closer to mid sky than it is to the horizon, and she can't believe she slept that long.

"Why didn't you wake me?" she asks.

His eyes lock with hers and there is a tenderness there that makes Emma's heart somehow stutter and melt at the same time.

"You were tired," he answers plainly, but with an utter sincerity that catches her off guard.

"I-I was, thank you," and she's helpless to the way her eyelashes flutter as she says this. She doesn't know why his kindness is having such an effect on her. It's not like it's a surprise, he's shown genuine concern for her wellbeing more times than she can count.

But his warmth, his affection, is not something she's received from a man in a long time.

Though if she thinks about it too hard, she's not sure she's ever really had it in the first place. But that is a forbidden train of thought, and she pushes it away instantly.

She'd sworn to herself that never again would she let someone in like she had with Neal. That she was better off, content even, being alone. But Killian makes her stomach dance with butterflies, and her heart race. Whether it's his teasing smirks or his warm smiles, she finds herself drawn to him. Like being with him, being near him, relieves an ache she never even knew was there.

In the week or so that she's known him he's managed to slip under the gates she's placed so meticulously around her heart. And normally at this point she would be panicking, but she's not. And she's a little unsure of what to do with herself now that she feels no desperate need to run.

And maybe the next step is to simply not take a next step.

To let whatever happens, happen.

It's a scary thought, but it doesn't make her as anxious as she would expect it to. In fact, it almost makes her breathe a little easier, this acknowledgement that she won't push away whatever happens between her and Lieutenant Jones.

And in the hours she spends monotonously placing one foot in front of the other; it's all she can think about.

-ES-

Their late start means that they don't travel as far as they have been in the past few days. But it's a welcome respite and Emma finds the slight break from their normal routine refreshing.

The area they stop at for the evening is easily the most beautiful place they've been to since they started this whole journey. It's a small clearing encircled by trees and covered in soft grass and small flowers that sway gently in the light breeze. They have an unobstructed view of the sky above them, and a sweet aroma weaves in soft tangles with the air.

Emma closes her eyes and inhales until her lungs are filled with the honeyed fragrance, releasing the air in a contented sigh. She has spent her days dealing with harsh undergrowth and sharp branches, and then spent her nights sleeping on unforgiving, rock imbedded floors. This meadow looks absolutely heavenly in comparison. A pocket of perfection tucked secretly away in the mountain's depths.

The comfort and luxury of the soft grass means that they have to spend extra time prepping the ground for their fire. Clearing a spot free of grass and making sure it's wide enough so that no sparks set off a wildfire while they're sleeping. But Emma would do this little piece of extra work every night if it meant her bed could be even the tiniest bit softer.

She's so caught up in the pleasant atmosphere that she's caught off guard when Killian is suddenly handing over her blanket for the evening. Her eyes flick between the blanket and his face several times before she takes it from his hands.

This blanket has put an abrupt halt on her thoughts of a warm and pleasant night. It's a stark reminder that it's time for her to do what she does every night and make her bed on the opposite side of the flames.

But it had been so dreadfully cold the night before, and she hadn't gotten any decent sleep until the sun had risen into the sky. She suspects that tonight will be much of the same, now that they're higher up in the mountains, the nights are only going to get colder.

She just wants to be warm, she wants to sleep through the night and not wake until the sky is bright with sunrise. And maybe a small part of her simply wants to give in and sleep next to Killian.

Hadn't she just accepted the fact that she wasn't going to push Killian away? And insisting on unreasonably sleeping on the opposite side of the fire would do just that.

She continues to stare at her blanket, eyes occasionally wandering to look at Killian who is already in his own makeshift bed, and then drifting over to study where she normally settles for the night.

Taking a deep breath, she makes up her mind and strides confidently over to Killian, spreads out her blanket, and lies down next to him before he has a chance to say anything.

"Hi," she mutters, feeling slightly self-conscious that she'd just sauntered over and practically thrown herself on the ground next to him without any preamble.

"Hi," his own greeting is laced with surprise and a hint of unmistakable delight.

"I don't want to be cold," she feels a need to explain herself, to give some reason as to why she's suddenly broken her unspoken rule and made her bed next to his.

"Of course, Swan."

She appreciates that he's taking her lead and not making a big deal out of this. Though he can't seem to help the way the corners of his mouth tug upwards, or the way his eyes light up as they crinkle at the edges.

His happiness is infectious, and she finds herself giving him a small smile in return before turning over onto her side, and closing her eyes.

Even with her eyes shut, she's intensely aware of his presence next her. The space between them is charged with a warmth that seeps into her skin, and she swears she can feel the air stir with every quiet breath he takes.

So in spite of her best efforts she remains wide awake, her senses sparking and her mind racing. She's unsure of how long she lies there, facing away from Killian, eyes gazing at nothing in particular. It feels like hours, but is probably only minutes before she finally gives up on finding sleep anytime soon and flips over onto her back.

She glances over at Killian, and finds that he's got one arm behind his head and the other resting across his stomach, his face relaxed as he stares up at the night sky serenely.

"You like looking at the stars don't you?" Emma asks, eyes studying his profile.

He doesn't answer right away, lost in his own thoughts, but when he does turn his attention to her, his eyebrow is arched in a polite question, a soft "Hmm?" coming from his lips.

"The stars," she repeats, turning her own focus heavenwards, "you enjoy looking at them."

"Aye, I do."

They lie in peaceful silence for a moment, both gazing at the twinkling lights above them. The sight is breathtaking, and Emma's never seen a night so clear, so calm. It's like the stars have wrapped around them, enchanting them as they glimmer and blink from millions of miles away.

She's been up among those stars countless times, traveled past them without a second thought. Never before has she been quite as mesmerized by them as she is right now, and never before has she's found herself appreciating them quite as much as she does right here, lying next to a man who looks at them as though they have every story in the world to tell him.

"My brother he—" Killian swallows thickly and Emma turns her head to look at him, eyes tracing over his strong features, "he used to take me out at night when we were younger, and he'd spend hours teaching me about them, he knew every constellation."

A soft smile graces his lips, but there is a distinct sadness in his eyes.

And watching him stare at the night sky with such fondness, but such longing, makes Emma think that perhaps this brother is one of the reasons he seems to know so much about loss.

"Being out at sea," he continues in a low voice, "most sailors are familiar with the stars; we rely on them for navigation. But for me…they've always just meant a little more. I-I can feel him when I look at them, and it brings me solace knowing that even though he's gone, I can still feel connected to him."

Emma shifts a little closer to him, their shoulders brushing. She wants to comfort him, but she's unsure of how, so she settles for being nearer to him, hoping her presence is enough.

"What was his name?" she asks softly.

"Liam," his smile widens and some of the sadness leaves his eyes. "He would have loved being on this planet."

"He would have loved being stranded and then almost eaten alive by giant cats?"

Killian chuckles and finally turns to look at her, the light from the fire reflecting in his blue eyes. "Perhaps not," he concedes, "but he would have loved the chance to see the stars. They're completely different than the ones at home, a whole new night sky to learn."

"And what have you learned?" she asks, and Killian practically beams at her before he looks up at the sky pointing at a star to their left.

"Alright, Swan, you see that bright one? With two little stars below it? It's always on the same side of the sky as where the sun sets. Not that we ever travel at night, but if we did, that star would lead us to the west."

And he's just, so passionate, as he shares what he's discovered, and Emma finds herself watching him just as much as she's watching the stars.

"And if you look diagonally up from that star, you'll see a group of stars that make up a sort of cross. We have one similar at home and it shares your namesake, Cygnus, or Swan."

"But it's smaller," Emma muses, feeling more lighthearted than she has in a long time, "so we should call it a duckling, or something."

"Well," Killian laughs, "they're actually called cygnets, but I rather like duckling."

Emma rolls her eyes at his amusement, but then gestures to a group of stars on the right, "What about that one?"

"Those?" Killian asks, pointing at the sky to make sure he is looking at the right ones. But he's indicating a little too far to the right so Emma reaches up and places her hand over his, guiding it until he's pointing to the constellation in question.

His breath catches softly when her fingers continue to linger around his hand longer than necessary and Emma drops her hand quickly to her stomach, her skin tingling from the contact.

"I haven't actually determined what those stars look like yet," his voice is suddenly breathier, almost a whisper. "Any ideas, Swan?" and he lowers his own arm as he says this, his elbow brushing lightly against her hip.

And even though it is the slightest of touches, it's as though every nerve ending in her body has decided to zero in on that one point of contact. And for a moment she's more aware of the feel of his elbow against her than she is of anything else.

"Uh," she has to swallow and clear her throat before she feels like she has control enough of her own voice to continue. "I don't know…a fish?"

Killian doesn't respond right away, he just tilts his head as though changing the angle he looks at it will alter its appearance. "A fish, eh?"

It's when he presses his lips together and scrunches his eyes as though in deep thought, that Emma realizes he's messing with her. She lightly smacks his chest with the back of her hand in retaliation, and he chuckles low and soft in response.

"Alright, Swan. A fish it shall be then."

Their conversation fades away, but they continue to gaze up at the stars side by side. The silence between them isn't awkward or tense. Instead it is surprisingly comfortable, almost peaceful in a way.

And soon, the heat of the fire and the warmth of Killian beside her start to lull Emma towards sleep. Her eyelids too heavy to keep open much longer, she gives in and lets her eyes fall closed.

And in that brief moment before she slips completely into that tranquil oblivion which is sleep, she hears a soft whisper of "Goodnight, Emma" breathed against her hair.

It's the best night's sleep she's had in days.