Thank you to my wonderful beta Ztofan and to everyone who has read, favourited, followed and reviewed! You feed my muse!

The dressing room was exactly as she had left it. The same, slightly musty tang lingered in the air. The tap in the washroom still dripped incessantly. There was that worn spot in the carpet beside the door where she always caught her heels.

Stepping inside had felt like falling back in time. This world seemed so far away from the life she had lived with Killian; however brief that was. It brought with it the sense of shame and desperation that had first driven her to this place.

The few girls she recognized gave her small smiles. On autopilot, she walked to her usual section of the dressing table and flicked the switch below it that sent the lights around the mirror flickering to life: half of them even worked.

She pulled her bag from her shoulder and dropped it onto the floor then she sat. Watching her reflection, she gave herself a sad smile.

"Welcome home," she told herself.

/

The bra was a bit too big, the panties a bit too small. At least she had been able to swipe a pair of Ruby's towering heels so at least something she was wearing was slightly comfortable. She tugged on the sheer red slip she had purchased; it was translucent enough to show the lacy lingerie, but not so much that she felt completely exposed.

She had never felt self-conscious before. It hadn't bothered her that the customers talked to her breasts or stared at her ass as she walked by. Even when she was almost naked, pressed up against the body of a drunken man with wandering hands, she hadn't really cared. It was work, after all. Not that different from pulling on a uniform and working behind the counter at Wendy's. Well, except her uniform was her body, and this paid at lot better (most of the time).

But today, every look she received made something in her stomach tighten. Each step across the floor was hesitant, not confident. She found herself licking her lips repeatedly until they felt dry.

Perhaps this was a mistake. Doubt began to fill her mind. She'd been so sure that falling back into old routines would push him from her mind quickly, that focusing on finding money and just living would occupy her enough that she would stop thinking about him.

Because he was always there, in the back of her mind. His face. His smile. His voice, saying her name. It was a strange kind of torment. Even when she had slept the night before, she had dreamt of him.

Suddenly, her chest felt tight, her heart began to race. A sick feeling rose in her throat. The edges of her vision began to darken.

Blindly, she turned and stalked back towards the door that led to the dressing room. Air. She needed some air. Perhaps she hadn't eaten enough today. Perhaps-

She was stopped in her tracks when her body collided with another. She stepped back to apologize.

"Killian?" she blurted out, her mouth working quicker than her mind when she realized it was him.

"Emma," he replied in a clipped tone.

Dazed, she stood for a second, wavering on her six inch platform heels. It was almost surreal: she had just been thinking of him and then he was there, in the flesh. Solid and real, if slightly rumpled around the edges. For a moment, she forgot everything. She wanted to smile-

Then instinct kicked in.

"Why are you here?" she hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him into a dark corner beside the stage. He looked at her carefully - that same handsome face with its sky blue eyes - before sighing lightly and biting on his lip.

"You know? I'm not even sure anymore." Emma took a breath, about to respond, when he started to shake his head, slowly running his fingers through his dark hair.

"Killian-" she began, taking a step closer to him before he let out a soft laugh and fixed his eyes upon her.

"Emma Swan, do you ever think of anyone but yourself?"

Taken aback, her mouth dropped open and she began to blink rapidly. "What-"

He didn't let her reply. Instead he rolled back his head. She noticed his stubble was a little longer than usual. The dim light also highlighted the dark shadows beneath his eyes. "You walked out, in the middle of the night - Emma, I had no idea where you were. Do you know how worried I was?"

She felt her cheeks begin to burn.

"Your phone was turned off - Christ, Emma - I had no idea what had happened. For all I knew you had gone out and gotten hit by a car or something-"

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and curved his shoulders inward. Emma felt like she had been hit in the stomach - the air seemed to have been taken from her lungs. For the longest moment she just stared at him. Carefully, he avoided catching her eye.

"I hadn't thought you could be that selfish."

The little air she had left in her lungs seeped out at his words.

"You're better off without me," she whispered.

"Hmm," he grunted, sticking his tongue into his cheek. There seemed to be something simmering below the surface inside of him.

"It's true," she protested. Suddenly feeling self-conscious in her sheer slip, she wrapped her arms around her chest.

"And I have no say in that decision? I mean, it affects me." His words were louder now, angry almost. A little crease had formed between his brows. She wanted to reach out and touch his arm and soothe him. Instead she cowered away from him, scared if she touched him again she would never let go.

Her fingers began to toy with the synthetic material; gathering it, her nails digging in.

"What do you want me to say, Killian? That I'm sorry? Well, I am. You wasted your time on me. Haven't you realized I bring nothing but trouble? Christ, I move thousands of miles away and the shit still follows me. Fucking Neal."

Sighing, he rolled his eyes, "We all have a past, love. But there comes a point where you just have to say 'fuck it' and get on with your life." He glanced at her, eyes hooded, lips slightly parted, "You know, this was a mistake. A big, fucking mistake. I'm sorry I bothered you."

Open mouthed, Emma watched as he started to walk away. All of a sudden, a searing pain tore into her stomach. She knew if she didn't try to stop him, it would get worse. The thought of him leaving was immediately painful, suffocating and felt just plain wrong- it made her skin crawl, she was feeling his sudden movement to leave her on a visceral level.

"No!" she cried, her fingers wrapping around the back of the collar of his shirt until he swung around. For a moment, his eyes brightened, until they took on the same dark look of a minute earlier.

"So now you want to talk?" he taunted. It hurt. The words dug into her like sharp knives. That he thought so ill of her was too much to bear.

Not responding, she grabbed his arm and tugged him towards the private rooms - the place she had taken him the night they had first met. It was still early, and she saw from the three lights above the exit that all were available. He didn't put up much resistance. In a few seconds, she had pushed him inside a small, velvet lined room and slid the lock to occupied.

Slowly, she turned to face him. He sat, his elbows on his knees, face in his hands.

"Why are you here?" She repeated her earlier question. "How did you know where to find me?"

The light in the room had an orange tinge. It enhanced the contrast between his light skin and dark hair. It was almost as if he had been reduced to a facsimile of himself - devoid of natural color.

He seemed to be ignoring her at first, taking deep breaths, staring at the floor. Finally, he lifted his head, a cool, defiant look in his eyes.

"I found you because you seem to have at least one friend here who cares about you. Ruby. She found your SIM card and called me."

"Oh," she sighed.

"I took the first flight I could. Ruby didn't know where you were tonight so I took a punt. I was hoping I'd be wrong."

Was he disappointed? It hurt more than she thought possible - she cared what he thought of her, more than she wanted to admit.

"And do you really need to ask why, Emma? Really?" The bitter twinge to his words was still there. She flinched.

"Well, I-" Her words were shaky this time.

He gave her a look. It was intense, dark. She felt exposed - but not in a physical sense. He seemed to be looking into her, looking for something…

"You love me."

It wasn't a question. Finally, she realized what she had pushed away for so long. He had fallen in love with her. Somehow.

"For whatever good it has done me," he admitted.

Heart still racing, she lay back against the soft, fabric covered wall. Her breathing became quicker. The spotlights in the ceiling seemed to dance before her eyes.

"But you can't," she muttered. "I'm trouble - really, I mean, my whole life is just a mess and it always will be, and-"

She was babbling. Even as the words left her mouth she felt all their foolishness. Killian was staring at her, his lower jaw rocking from side to side.

"I didn't care about any of that. I only cared about you."

Didn't.

Cared.

Past tense.

"Why the hell do you think I asked you to come to New York? Do you think I pick up women on a regular basis and ask them to move in with me?"

He was getting louder again. Her heart was thudding heavily, each beat reverberating towards her extremities.

"It was so damn hard, Emma. You know, opening myself up - do you get that?"

"Yeah," she whispered, nodding.

She did. For so long, she had never even considered opening herself up to a man again. The hurt of Neal's betrayal was too deep, too ingrained in her very being, that it kept her hidden within her own shell, her own emotional armor.

"But I met you and, God, you got under my skin."

She hitched her breath. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She felt like she was sinking into the wall, becoming as dark as it was, melting almost with every declaration he made.

He rose and stood in front of her. He was searching her eyes again - what was he looking for-?

"I thought we could be something; have a real future…"

His hand rose as if to cup her face. Instinctively, she turned her cheek, seeking the warmth of his touch and the simple pleasure of his skin on hers. But he stopped just short, his hand recoiling and fingers balling into a fist.

A tear fell.

"What kind of future?" she asked, the tiniest amount of hope still in her voice.

The smile at the edges of his lips made her heart a little lighter.

"You know, normal things. Like dinners and movies and holing up in bed for a weekend just because we can-"

"That sounds nice," she whispered.

"And if we both wanted it, maybe even a kid or two. Maybe you could have made an honest man out of me."

His words dripped with pain. She reached her hand out and grasped his. He started, each breath he took becoming shakier than the last.

"You know, I've never known what a happy ending was. My life has been about survival and just getting through and only thinking of myself-" the words tumbled out in a rapid babble.

"It doesn't have to be. And it wasn't a happy ending I was looking for, love. It was a happy beginning."

Her unoccupied hand reached up and began to toy with the crumpled collar of his shirt. It wasn't ironed. That wasn't like it.

"I don't know what one of those looks like either," she confessed.

"Neither do I," he sighed, "But I was willing to try."

His words hung between them, thick with meaning and laced with a string of still held hope.

And then it hit her - they were so alike. More attune to each other than she had ever thought possible. Both had been hurt, their experiences had shaped them both, but within each other they had found a kindred soul. But instead of embracing that, Emma had run. Too scared to try, she had hidden behind old habits and a stubborn refusal to try and move on.

Closing her eyes, she felt the moisture form between her lids.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Killian let out a heavy sigh. "Come here," he murmured, wrapping and arm around her waist and drawing her close. He let her press her face against his chest. He felt so warm and safe and comfortable.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she went on, interlacing her fingers with his, "I really thought that this was the best thing for you - I left for you, not because of you-"

"How can you think that us being apart was a good thing?" He tilted up her chin, "I love you Emma. You are the first person who has made me feel like this in a long time."

Emma's voice shook, "I feel the same way." She sniffed, blinking back more tears, "I just - I just-"

She couldn't think straight. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and feelings. But she knew she had made a mistake. There, in the dark room, listening to each other breathe, soaking in his warmth, she had never felt so foolish.

Killian was stroking her hair in a soothing gesture. "It's okay, I understand-" He pulled back until there was a small gap between their bodies, "And I understand that this is too hard and maybe shouldn't have come here-"

It was then she realized his eyes were damp too, glistening with moisture in the amber light. Her heart hurt.

"Shhhh," she hushed, placing a finger on his shaking lips.

The look of hope that crossed his face was glorious. The faint indication that she wanted to undo her rash decision lifting away the sadness and tension in his features in an instant.

"Killian, can we try again?"

She watched him swallow and then nod.

"I can't promise things will be perfect but-"

"Perfect is overrated," he interrupted.

"But," she continued, "I promise to try."

When he didn't respond, her breath caught in her throat. So she did what instinct told her, reached her lips to his and gave him a kiss.

He melted into her, arms and hands moulding against and caressing her body, cocooning her in his warmth as she nipped at his lips, brushing her tongue against his while she tilted her head and deepened the action. Fingers began to explore faces and hair and bodies. She leaned into Killian, letting her body press against his, putting her weight onto him until he stumbled a few steps and they were backed against the wall.

Emma splayed her fingers up from his neck, into the hair at the base of his scalp as she peeled her lips away. That familiar heat in her gut was rising. Being apart for only a couple of days had been too long. She needed him to touch her, take her-

She slid her palms around to his chest and then lower, resting on his belt as she watched his reaction. He didn't flinch, didn't speak - instead he kept his eyes fixed on hers.

"You don't get how special you are, do you?"

Blinking back a tear, Emma whispered, "Special?"

"Yeah," he nodded, his own fingers entwining themselves in the thin straps of her slip. "You try and hide it, but there is this light inside of you." In an achingly slow action, he started to drags the straps down her arms, his fingernails leaving goose bumps in their wake, her slip quickly lying gathered around her waist. Her eyes fluttered closed. "Let me love you Emma," he whispered.

"Yes," she replied, barely audibly.

She felt his lips press against her collar bone. "What was that?"

"Yes," she said louder, her body paralyzed, his lips now on her neck, trailing behind her ear. Her knees began to shake.

"Killian," she moaned.

With a grunt, he dipped down and cupped her ass, pulling her legs around him and turning to press her back against the wall. His hips holding her in place, in a second he had torn away the remains of her slip and his hands were tugging down the straps and cups of her bra before his mouth began to feast on the flesh.

And as he moved over her and she ran her fingers through his hair, she knew this wasn't just about sex between them. She needed him, on a basic level that she had never thought she would experience again after Neal. The way he touched her - eagerly, reverently, lovingly - told her he felt the same. They were of one mind.

Waking herself from her introspective gaze, she cried out as his mouth tugged on a nipple, sucking and teasing it with the tip of his tongue. She reached back and tugged on the clasp of her bra, letting it fall away as she shifted her hips until she could feel his erection pressing against her.

"Killian," she moaned again, rolling her lips a little, looking for that little bit of friction, "Killian-"

Suddenly, he released her. His mouth was on hers again and he was unfastening his belt. Her hands went to help, flicking open the buttons of his fly until she could slip into his boxer briefs and wrap around his heat.

"Oh," she sighed, kneading his hard, heavy length, enjoying the little groans he let out between his kisses. She stroked her finger over his tip and he flinched before intensifying his kiss and slipping his hand between her thighs and pushing her panties to one side.

Rolling her hips, his fingers slipped easily inside her, his thumb rubbing her clit, the heat in her stomach building unbearably, so quickly she was caught off guard.

"Now," she begged, digging her free hand into his waist, "Please."

Then somehow he was holding her up again, his hips pushing forward, lining up his erection against her entrance, waiting that teasing second until she met his eye before he let her body drop just enough until he breached her.

"God, Emma-"

His shaking voice sent her stomach into somersaults. Pressing his fingers tighter into her ass, he slowly let her fall onto him until she could go no further and he grunted in satisfaction. They settled for a moment. Emma adjusting to him, flexing her muscles while his eyelids fluttered.

"I love you."

His words were accompanied by a slow, excruciatingly delightful sensation as he backed up his hips and slipped out of her, only to rock back fluidly. Each drag and tug of his length was heaven, the twin sensations of him and the expression on his face as he moved inside her, breaking her quickly.

Gradually, he began to pick up a pace, whispering again, "I love you."

The wall was digging into her back. Her feet felt numb from the position in which he held her. The room was stiflingly hot. But all she could feel, all she cared about, was the sensations he was drawing from her - both body and soul.

Quicker and faster and harder-

"I love you, Emma Swan."

His voice was strained now, she watched him clench his jaw as the world became hazy.

"Let me love you."

The tension was too much. Her body was on fire, her mind abuzz. She slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, bringing him deeper inside of her and rocking her hips and finding that delicious friction she so badly needed against her clit.

All rhythm and method was forgotten as they became lost in each other. Her peak came about before she was ready, crashing around her and dragging him along as he came to a stuttering, wordless halt, breathing heavily against her shoulder as she pressed damp kisses on his cheek.

"I love you too," she whispered as coolness settled over her body, dousing the flames of passion and replacing them with a clearheaded satisfaction and certainty. She needed him. And he needed her.