Thank you to everyone who continues to read this, and especially those of you who review. I know I haven't been responding for a long time, but I promise that I read and appreciate every single one. Honestly, they often provide me with a little extra kick to actually finish this. I promise that I'm close and that I'll respond to every single one eventually. Right now, though, I'm still struggling with my depression, and I need to focus on one thing at a time; for now, that means writing chapters instead of responding to reviews.

This chapter covers a lot of time, so there are a lot of breaks. It may seem disjunct but, again, I felt no need to go into huge detail when it came to what we've already watched in the show.

Again, I need to offer my most sincere thanks to Trish Tavor and her fantastic editing. Somehow she continues to put up with my typos and sporadically sent chapters. As always, I owe her for making each chapter the best it can be.

The Present

For a moment, all Emma could do was stare at the pirate's retreating form. Then, once the initial shock had worn off, she followed at a half-run. The thought of what she'd done was making her feel sick. Why did she always end up taking things out on the man in front of her? A small part of her wondered if she knew; maybe it was simply because Killian told her the hard truth when she didn't want to hear it.

"Hook! Wait!"

He was walking so quickly that she couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to leave her. Then she remembered that even if he wanted to, he wasn't so stupid as to abandon her if it meant screwing with time to a greater degree. They were both stuck in the past when they didn't belong here, which meant that they were in this together, like it or not. Unless... couldn't he just steal a ship and go to some obscure corner of the land? Surely he wouldn't stop existing just because she did, unless his past self attacked Rumplestiltskin and died. Then, with a flood of relief mingled with guilt, she remembered that he'd said "we should get going". The relief was soon overpowered by guilt; here she was thinking of herself again.

"Killian!"

Finally, she reached him. When he still refused to look at her, she grabbed his arm and forcibly stopped him. "I didn't mean what I said. I was angry-"

"It's fine," he said tersely.

She shook her head, frantic for him to understand. "No. I know you weren't lying to me. I never should have said that, but-"

He jerked his arm out of her grip. "Just leave it, Swan."

Once again, he turned away and left a stunned Emma behind.

She tried to bring it up twice more on their walk without success. As the sun started to set, she gave up and resigned herself to tense silence for the rest of their journey.

In a way, she found the whole situation odd. She'd come to depend on Killian not letting things go until they were resolved. The whole New York issue that had gotten her into this mess was an example of that, surely? But then she realized that he never let things go when it came to her, maybe even when it came to what was best for her. Guiltily, she realized that he tended to let things go when it came to her wronging him. Wasn't what had happened with the wicked witch a perfect example? Of course, she had a right to be angry at him for trying to steal away her son and not even bothering to tell her that the witch had cursed him. However, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that he'd really done the best that he could in an impossible situation, and telling him that she couldn't trust him anymore had been going too far. He had a right to be angry about that, but he hadn't been, which only went to show how far she had gone this time. Maybe she had finally pushed him away for good.

Knowing that she was planning to go back to New York, that shouldn't have bothered her. Somehow, though, it did. It filled her with a bubbling panic that she couldn't fully explain.

"A predictable excess of pomp and grandeur," Killian said, glancing through his spyglass. "Snow should have no trouble sneaking inside."

They were currently seated side by side on a log that was as damp and uncomfortable as everything else Emma had experienced in the forest. She bit back a sigh. Everything felt wrong. Killian was speaking to her again, yes, but it was almost worse than the silence. Everything was so businesslike: the opposite of their usual banter.

Emma furrowed her brow. "What about us? We're supposed to just sit here and hope that she pulls it off? I don't like leaving things to chance."

That was true, but she also didn't like the idea of sitting in awkward silence and guilt for the night.

Fortunately, Rumplestiltskin took care of that. From Killian's expression throughout their encounter, Emma could tell that he was distinctly uncomfortable. However, whether it was because of the presence of his archenemy or the thought of accompanying her to a ball after she had insulted him to such an extent, Emma couldn't say.

As they walked down to the castle, Emma couldn't help trying to patch things up one more time.

"Look, Killian, suffering through a ball is going to be terrible enough without us fighting," Emma began.

Killian's jaw clenched. Okay, maybe "suffering through a ball" wasn't the right way to put it. He probably thought she assumed it would be painful just because she was going with him. She groaned; fixing this was going to be even more difficult than she thought.

She stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop and face her.

"What I said was unforgivable," she said quietly. He glanced up at her, lips parted in clear surprise.

"Swan-"

She shook her head. "It was. I took your trust and stomped on it again because I was angry, not because I actually believed you were manipulating me. I know by now that you wouldn't do that."

His eyes softened at that, although his brows were still furrowed in confusion. The sight only reminded Emma of how badly she had treated him in the past.

"I know it's not fair for me to ask you to forgive me again when you've already done it so many times, but..." She trailed off, looking up at Killian with slightly pleading eyes.

He swallowed hard. "I know that you push people away when you feel threatened. I shouldn't have taken it to heart."

"How couldn't you?" Emma scoffed. "The things you told me... they're beyond personal. I know that, and I still used them to hurt you. I'm sorry." For everything, she added in her head. "And I understand if you don't want to trust me with anything so personal again."

The next moment seemed to last an eternity as Emma waited for his response. His face was almost perfectly blank, but his eyes were swirling with some unidentifiable emotion.

When he finally did respond, his voice was carefully controlled. "Thank you."

Then, he offered her his arm, and they continued to make their way down to the castle.

As they walked into the castle, she felt Killian stiffen. She wondered if being a guest at a royal ball brought back painful memories. It had to, she supposed. She wondered vaguely if he had done this since Liam passed away.

"Just when I thought the clothes here couldn't get any worse," she joked as they walked into the ballroom.

Part of her wanted to break the silence, or break him away from whatever memories he may have or may not have been reliving. The other part of her wanted to test the ice and see if things really were back to normal.

"You might not be able to move, Swan, but you cut quite the figure in that dress."

Relief flooded her at his response. He must also have been making an effort to return to their usual rapport if he was flirting with her. Things didn't feel quite the same as before yet, but she had a feeling that they could get there.

As they danced together, she wondered if things ever could ever return entirely back to normal. Being this physically close to Killian was agony. She could see each individual hair on his cheek and the details of the dark smudges that line his eyes. His scent intoxicated her to the point where she couldn't tell if her dizziness was from that or the dance.

Her mind wandered back to their kiss in Neverland, and she felt the ridiculous urge to replicate it. It was a crazy thought that she quickly pushed away as impossible.

Once again, Emma felt herself overwhelmed by thinking of the past of the man in front of her. It was difficult to wrap her head around the thought of a young Killian doing exactly this with his family or various fine ladies in what was almost another lifetime, hundreds of years ago. He still remembered all of the steps, guiding her through them with the patience of someone who had been doing them all of his life, rather than lifetimes ago. Had he ever danced with Milah?

The strangest thing of all, though, was how safe she felt. She was in another time and another land, doing something she had never done before, but the warmth of Killian's body next to hers filled her with a sense of security that she had rarely experienced before.

It was almost a relief to break away from the dance before she let her imagination run away with her and lead her to dream of the impossible.

Of course, she had to end up arrested by Regina. If she thought the forest was uncomfortable, it was nothing compared to the cold, rough stones of the prison. Once again, she almost felt guilty for feeling sorry for herself for her earlier stint in prison. At least it had been more comfortable than this. God, the Enchanted Forest was practically medieval.

For the millionth time, her mind wandered to Killian. She wondered vaguely where Killian and his parents had been imprisoned. She'd never asked where his homeland was in relation to the Enchanted Forest. What if his home had been the Enchanted Forest hundreds of years ago? What if this was even a familiar castle, only belonging to someone else now? Was every step in this land just a reminder of a painful past and loved ones long lost?

She pictured him in a similar cell, but quickly brushed the thought away. It had sounded like his jail conditions had been worse than even this. She hoped that he wasn't worrying about her too much.

She couldn't help but glance around at the graffiti covering the walls. The small scratched names and dates and "help me"s were too numerous to count. Her hand wandered over the name of another Emma, almost faded from the wall by the assault of time. It wasn't in her hand, but it wouldn't have surprised her if it was, and she had simply traveled back in time again to an earlier date. For a moment, her mind was flooded with the thought of hundreds of Emma's throughout time, ghosts of herself throughout the years that would briefly appear like a blip on a radar before disappearing.

Funnily enough, she felt as though prison would be more bearable if Hook were here with her. He would make some sort of quip that would lighten the situation or say something surprisingly deep as he sometimes did. She realized she missed him. Pathetic. She was getting far too used to company.

Unbidden, words from her own past echoed through her head. That's how you know you've really got a home.'Cause when you leave it, there's this feeling that you can't shake. You just miss it.

God, prison was really driving her crazy. It was definitely time to figure out how to escape.

Having someone actually come for her was a new experience. Emma was so used to relying on herself and her own ingenuity that she was genuinely shocked at Hook's rescue attempt. When she said "no one saves me but me", she meant it. It wasn't simply her asserting her own abilities out of pride, though; it was a subtle admission of the fact that no one had ever bothered to save her. She had never meant enough to anyone.

The first time she had been in prison, she had spent more nights than she cared to admit dreaming of Neal coming to save her. Her rational mind had known that it wasn't going to happen, but whatever childlike side was left in her had still hoped that Neal would care enough for her to turn himself in. All might even be forgiven in that case, particularly if it was just an honest mistake. She would wait for him to get out of jail, and then they could go to Tallahassee and she would finally have a home.

He never came, and she eventually stopped dreaming.

Now, suddenly, there was someone who would risk his own freedom and life for her without being obligated to. In spite of the situation, she couldn't hide the small smile that played on her lips at the sight of the pirate before her.

The smile was soon wiped away by the sight of her mother being consumed by a ball of flame. In some corner of her mind that wasn't consumed by denial and desolation, she was aware of strong arms that pulled her into an embrace. Killian held her protectively, almost as if he hoped to keep the pieces of her together by sheer force of will. For once, she accepted the support. She needed it too badly, and it was actually there when she needed it: another first.

Emma stared dully at the fire, tears stinging her face. She had never felt more empty in her life, not even when Neal had left her in prison or when he'd died. Yes, she had cared for him, but this was her mother. This was the woman that she had spent twenty-eight years of her life searching for and yearning for. She was the woman who had become her best friend and then desperately tried to find a place in Emma's life after discovering their true relationship, only to be pushed away. She was one of the few people who truly put Emma first, and now she was just gone.

A hesitant voice cut into her mourning. "After my brother passed, all I could do was relive that final, terrible moment. Don't do that to yourself, love."

Through her desolation, Emma felt a rush of gratitude for the man beside her. Even after she had hurt him so badly, he was still willing to offer her his past if he thought it could help her.

How had he survived this feeling of loss over and over again? It was becoming easier and easier for Emma to understand how the genuinely good man beside her had been pushed to become the man she had met.

Loss was all too familiar to him, and yet he was trying to help her carry her own burden of loss. He had held her close at the moment she had watched her mother die and, more shockingly, hadn't left her since. It was difficult to comprehend why he would put himself through this. Deep down, she knew the reason. Still, it was too frightening for her to let herself accept that someone could care about her this much.

Killian was another one of the people who put her first, she knew.

Emma hadn't thought she could feel worse than she did thinking her mother was dead. That was until her mother didn't recognize her when she hugged her. She had a feeling that Killian knew exactly how much it shook her.

Emma lay on the ground, eyes fixed on her sleeping mother's face. When she watched her like this, she could almost imagine that things were normal. This could be their first trip together to the Enchanted Forest, or even something as normal as camping in Storybrooke. Why had they never done normal things together?

A tear slipped down her cheek onto the grass. "Killian?"

He was sleeping close enough to her to hear her quiet call. Only half of her had expected him to react; his deep, even breaths made her guess that he was asleep. Nevertheless, he jerked awake quickly and quietly, already alert enough to fix intense eyes on hers. His face softened as he took in the stray tears on her face, which she quickly rubbed away.

"Aye, love?"

"Um," she swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. "I didn't mean to wake you."

For the millionth time that day, Killian reached over to brush away the tears she had missed. Vaguely, Emma realized that she never would have allowed anything of the kind before this trip.

"You're having trouble sleeping," he said.

She nodded, face flushing. She was already regretting giving in to the impulse to wake the pirate, but her need for comfort, or at least to reduce the desperate loneliness filling her, was far too strong.

"I was wondering... I completely understand if you don't want to, but..."

"You need a distraction," he finished.

Emma nodded minutely.

Killian's gave her a sympathetic smile. Then, without protest, he gave her exactly what she needed.

"Hmm. Perhaps I should tell you some happier memories..."