Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time or its characters.

If there was one thing that Emma had learned how to do well in the past two months, it was how to maintain a look of nonchalance after being let in on a secret.

She glanced over Aurora's shoulder at Mary Margaret, though, and noticed that her mother watched them intently from across the table.

"Phillip doesn't even know," Aurora said quietly, nearly sobbing. "I couldn't get his hopes up after what happened before. And now that I think our baby could be in danger..."

Emma frowned, keeping her head tilted low, so that no one else could gage the seriousness of their conversation. She kept her voice just above a whisper, but with the loud chatter around them, it probably wasn't necessary.

"Can I ask why you're so sure that it's your baby, the witches want?"

Stifling a small hiccup, Aurora covered her mouth and quickly wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with a napkin, before she leaned in closer.

"One night during our imprisonment, a drunken soldier stumbled over to my cell. They kept me and Phillip apart our entire time in capture, which was torture enough," she said, trembling, looking at Emma, who nodded for her to continue.

"He made crude remarks about my dress that had been torn just below the thigh," she said darkly, as a small shudder ran up Emma's back. Aurora pressed her lips, and darted her eyes over the room.

"Well, I was so afraid that he had come there for me, but he laughed when I accused him of that," she whispered, her voice still shaking.

When Emma raised her eyebrows, Aurora shook her head.

"He said that he'd never mess with his mistress' prize, and he rambled on about a princess that was to be born," Aurora said, before her voice lowered even more. "How they needed the baby's power of magic."

Emma couldn't keep the surprise from her face this time, and reached a hand out to grab one of Aurora's gloved ones. She could feel the woman trembling beneath the cloth, but held it firmly, in hopes that the Aurora would continue. "I thought at the time, that perhaps it was Charming and Snow's baby, but after Prince Greyson was born…"

Aurora started to sob quietly again, and Emma put her hand on the princess' shoulder, hoping to give her some kind of comfort, as there were no words that came to mind.

So, there was validity to Emma's suspicions.

In addition to what Mary Margaret and Aurora had heard during their time in the witch's captivity, Emma had a vision of Maleficent claiming her desire to obtain a child. Despite what Gold had said about no absolute certainty in her foresight, it was clear that a baby was involved; possibly one with magical ability.

Emma absentmindedly looked out the floor-length window to see the Jolly Roger bobbing in the harbor; a lonely shadow cast over its billowing sails. She breathed a long sigh, before Emma leaned over to Aurora with guilt on her face.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have the ability to see your child's fate," she said sadly. Aurora looked as if she wanted to speak, but Emma gently cut her off.

"And I know that you had originally planned to stay here in the castle, but it might be a good idea if you and your husband went into hiding," she whispered, getting to her feet. "I promise to keep this information between us."

The princess shook her head, before Emma helped Aurora to stand, and led her toward the staircase. The two women embraced briefly, before Aurora turned to head upstairs to her bedroom.

Emma watched her a moment, before she turned to head down the hallway that lead to the main entrance; her mind reeling.

It had been almost two weeks since Aurora and Phillip had escaped from capture, and there hadn't been any sign from either Maleficent or Zelena since then. More importantly, though, if what the drunken soldier had told Aurora was true, it was possible that one of the witch sisters had the power of foresight.

Which meant more bad news for the allied armies.

Still, it struck Emma that Zelena might have revealed the bit of information about the baby on purpose. After all, what would the sisters care if everyone found out what it was they were after? If she and Maleficent managed to get all four of the rings (in combination of The Black Wand; which Maleficent already had) there wouldn't be much that anyone else could do to stop them anyway.

So why would they care about the power of a baby?

When Emma stepped out into the night, she had expected a chill to cover her skin, as she was wearing only a thin peasant top and her suede riding pants. The air, however, was warm and almost heavy, like they were back in the jungles of Neverland.

There was a rustling in the hedges near the entrance of the garden, causing Emma to draw her sword, which she carried with her all the time now. She had to squint her eyes to see through the darkness, but when the source of the noise appeared from behind the brush, Emma let out a frustrated huff.

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

Gold emerged and hobbled onto the pathway of the garden, his gold tooth gleaming in the moonlight. Emma sheathed her sword, her frown remaining, as she inwardly wondered what this man was up to now.

"Just out for a little stroll," Gold said with smirk, his stringy hair blowing in the warm breeze. With the lights from the main hall, Emma could still see his features, and she watched him closely as he peered around.

Emma had been waiting for him to approach her since their training yesterday, as Gold had seemed so interested in what had caused the abrupt change in her magic. As expected, Gold wasted little time, his voice low, but velvety in the humid air around them.

"You had a vision."

It wasn't a question, nor did it surprise Emma in the least. Though Gold had always seemed to find a way to hide his secrets, she had gotten pretty adept at reading the expressions on his face in those rare moments that he showed them.

"Care to share what you saw, dearie?"

She didn't hesitate to nod her head in the affirmative, seeing no reason to deny that it had been a vision that threw her before. Still, Emma refused to give Gold details; especially when it involved his not-so-favorite pirate, and since she had anticipated this conversation, Emma decided to use it to her advantage.

Gold opened his mouth to speak, but Emma cut him off abruptly.

"Not so fast, Gold. First I want you to tell me why you disappeared during the Christmas party," she said quietly, the smell of pine wafting from the nearby forest line. "And don't waste my time with unnecessary details."

As usual, Gold kept his face a blank slate, though his eyebrow hitched slightly.

"I paid a visit to some old friends. Forgive me, I'm sure my absence at your parents' event was sorely missed."

A couple crows flew a feet above their heads, cawing loudly as if laughing at Gold's sarcasm, while Emma glared at him.

Gold had been put in charge with finding the magic that could lead to their salvation, and the guy was making house calls. She wasn't amused.

"Why aren't you more concerned with finding those two rings?"

The old man merely shrugged, as a nearby guard approached them, his boots crunching over the gravel in the silence of the night. The two of them put on friendly smiles to wait for the guard to pass, as he walked out of sight. For a moment, Emma thought Gold was going to leave, his eyes almost looking for an exit, but after another few seconds, he finally answered her.

"Perhaps that's because I am the one who made the rings to begin with."

Emma nearly laughed, but could tell by Gold's face that he was actually serious. "You're telling me that you created the rings yourself?"

Gold seemed to look offended, though Emma was sure he would never admit it. Turning his attention away from her, he stared back into the castle's main hall toward Neal, who looked like he was joining Henry for dessert.

"Indeed I did," he replied simply, his voice lower now. "I had angered a certain fairy many years ago, so in order to keep me from finding Bae, she sent me to a land without magic. While in London, I was able to live under the alias of Andrew Ketterley, a common man who mingled with that realm's version of magic."

Emma's mind was reeling with all the information, wondering briefly why Gold was giving her so much all of the sudden. She was familiar with the Narnian tales and that "Uncle Andrew" had created the fictional rings with the magic dust given to him by his godmother, Ms. LeFay.

But if all of this was true, who the hell was powerful enough to banish the Dark One to a realm without magic?

"You said you had pissed off a fairy back in the Enchanted Forest, but... wait... the Blue Fairy had said the Black Wand belonged to a someone who had very powerful magic," Emma said, thinking out loud. Her eyes caught Gold's, and Emma's chest flared with annoyance when she noticed he almost smirked.

"You stole the Black Fairy's wand?"

If Gold was impressed, he didn't show it, merely nodding as if chatting about the weather. He turned to walk toward the sea, not waiting for Emma to follow him, as his cane echoed over the sheetrock pathway that led to the docks. She considered grabbing him by the arm, but didn't want to ruin one of the rare instances when Gold shared his secrets, so she remained silent.

"She and her sister were far from innocent, I assure you. Unfortunately, the wand fell into other hands, and the Black Fairy was able to send me to London as a punishment. Despite my limited powers, however, I was able to maintain my ability of foresight, and with it, came a vision of four rings that I would create for four exceptional individuals."

Four rings made for four specific people. This was bad.

Emma had a very sinking feeling that two of those rings were made for their favorite duo of sister witches. If that was true, it meant that even if they were lucky to find all four rings, that only the ring holders could wield their magic.

This was very bad.

"So who are these exceptional individuals, then? Surely, you have to know."

Before he turned around, Emma already knew she had asked too much. Without any further leverage, there was no way to force Gold to share any further information he had. The corners of the old man's mouth curved upward, and Emma understood immediately that their conversation was coming to an end.

"You can't certainly be that blind, Miss Swan," he replied, his voice more confident than ever before. He turned to take a left in the fork of the path, off into the wooded canopy of the trees, and Gold raised his voice, the sound nearly booming over the quiet of the night.

"Perhaps you should focus on what you already know, rather than dwelling on what might come to pass. Until tomorrow, Dearie."

She watched Gold's shadowy figure disappear into the trees, and Emma let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

I hate when this guy is right.

It didn't take long for her to reach the ships docked in the bay. On her short trip there, Emma did her best to find the silver lining in what Gold had told her.

There were four ring holders somewhere between Narnia and the Enchanted Forest. It was clear that he either knew or had a good idea who they were, and Emma was fairly certain two of them where Zelena and Maleficent. While that may be bad news, it still meant that there were two more people who could help them use the power and connect it to the Black Wand.

Of course, they needed to find these people, the other two rings, and somehow obtain the wand that the sisters possessed.

So much for silver lining.

Emma noticed that the Jolly Roger's lonesome, isolated look had now given way to a peculiar and almost-menacing feel; as the ship seemed to hide in the shadows of the dark water surrounding it, like a predator waiting for its prey.

Despite the fact that the entire kingdom mobilized for war, the allies prepped to set off tomorrow morning, Emma's path had been virtually deserted; as if her short journey was meant to be taken alone.

The sea air nearly burned her nostrils with its bitterness; as the seagulls, whose chorus of cawing, seemed to mock her in the dead of night. Even her footsteps along the cobblestone pathway, sent Emma an echoed reminder: that this feeling of loneliness had been brought on by her own actions.

Stopping directly in front of the Jolly, her toes hit the edge of the boarding ramp with a thump. As many times as she had been on the ship, both in reality and in her visions, Emma never failed to be impressed by its magnificence, and perhaps even intimidated by the connection to its captain.

Killian.

Emma sighed aloud, realizing that she would have to come aboard the ship uninvited; and that the pirate was more than likely in his cabin, finishing dinner and sulking over an infuriatingly-stubborn princess (not that she could blame him.)

Although hesitant about facing him since their encounter in kitchen, Emma made no effort to keep quiet, afraid the pirate may mistake her for an enemy; and trounced along the ancient floorboards, her boots clambering over the deck like a judge's gavel.

Time to face her sentence.

Her knuckles rapped against the solid, oak door to his cabin, and Emma winced slightly from the contact. Her hands were slightly calloused and blistered from several weeks of vigorous training, but she was getting used to seeing bruises all over her body; a sign of her willingness to rise to the challenge.

Emma waited a few more seconds, but there was no sign of movement on the other side.

She doubted that he had fallen asleep, as Emma knew him to be a night owl, who spent the majority of their time in Neverland and Narnia standing guard: the silent sentry; with unspoken words lingering on his lips, and unimaginable suffering in his eyes.

For a brief second, Emma considered just opening the door, but stopped herself. Although the ship was technically in her parents' possession as a vessel of the Royal Navy, she had no intention of overstepping her bounds.

Another few seconds, Emma knocked again, much harder this time, and she pressed her ear to the door. There was an indication of movement, shuffling coming from the other side, and she heard a soft murmur that seemed to beacon her inside.

With a creek, Emma pushed the heavy door inward, squinting at the lack of light inside the cabin, and recognized the smell of rum immediately. The room was no bigger than a large master bath, but with only a single candle lit at his desk, she could just barely make out the figure slumped over it.

She wasn't shocked in-the-least to see a nearly-empty rum bottle sitting next to him, but was surprised that the captain appeared to be fiddling with something else; his eyes focused solely on the object, as he worked.

She stepped forward slowly, and as Emma got closer, she realized it was an empty bottle with a model ship inside, much like the one they were currently on, except that its sails appeared to be white and not black.

Emma waited for him to acknowledge her presence, but Killian merely furrowed his brow, apparently deep in concentration. He didn't wear his usual vest or jacket, both strung over the chair he sat in, and his white tunic was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, which Emma found rather appealing, despite the scenario.

The pirate hiccupped slightly, but kept a surprisingly-steady set of hands on the task in front of him. She opened her mouth to break the obvious tension, but he beat her to it.

"Forgive my lack of manners, milady," he slurred slightly, his eyes still on the model ship. "I have nearly managed to raise the top mast."

Killian's voice was raspy and uneven, but his fingers nimbly attached one of the strings with the tweezers set carefully on the highest point of the ship.

She hadn't been sure what to expect, but this certainly had not been it.

Perhaps he would be angry, shouting drunken soliloquies into the endless sea; or even arms crossed, with a smirk on his face, awaiting her arrival and an apology for how she had treated him.

No. This man seemed content to keep to himself, though he obviously had sought comfort from the taste of his favorite spirit; and Emma made an inward note that this was the first occasion where she had seen him visibly intoxicated.

"Please take a seat," Killian finished, lulling his head toward the chair across from him. She followed his direction, and shot him a look that had meant to be a glare, but immediately changed to one of concern.

Now sitting only feet away, Emma was able to notice the dark circles under his blood-shot eyes, and the deep lines creased over the captain's face. He had never looked so much like his age than now; centuries of pain and regret etched over the man's features.

She finally found her voice, but it came out more like a whisper than anything else. "Have you had a proper dinner?"

He shook his head almost dramatically, a few stray strands of dark hair falling over his eyes. She now noticed that the captain had still not shaved, but in the highlight of the candle's glow, Emma saw his dimples show through the ragged scruff.

"Not unless you consider a bottle of rum a proper dinner, luv."

She frowned at his sarcastic tone, but waved her hand and ignited a few other candles on the walls around the room to look for any sign of food. He hadn't seemed to notice, leaning closer to the bottle with a look of indifference.

Of the few times that Emma had been in his quarters, she had never once took the time to really notice its contents. There must have been a hundred different books, all seemingly-worn from years of use. Various maps, naval instruments, and tokens of treasure lined the bookshelves and side tables that leaned against the walls.

Besides the one window at the far corner, there were a few small paintings; most of them containing maritime subjects like ships or sea creatures. One in particular, though, caught Emma's eye, and she stood up from her chair to move across the room.

The painting had a pair of small boys, one slightly older than the other, playing with a dog. The children had expressions of joy on their faces, and Emma couldn't help but smile that Killian had chosen such an image for his room. These objects had all seen many years of the man's life, and Emma felt a sense of warmth fill her up, at being in the presence of his history.

"That was Liam's favorite."

The words had been spoken so low, that Emma nearly thought she had imagined them. Turning to him slowly, she saw that Killian had finally raised his head from the model ship, a weary smile playing on his chapped lips.

He rose shakily from his seat, picking up the model ship, and trudged over toward her with his eyes still on the painting.

Emma instinctively moved to help him, afraid he might drop the bottle in his current state, but the man surprised her again, only wavering slightly, before he placed the model ship with a few others that sat on the shelf nearby.

He turned his attention back to the painting, a weary smile playing over his chapped lips. "He said it reminded him of our childhood pet, Roger," he murmured quietly, leaning his left hand on the wall to steady himself.

She held her breath, knowing full well that Liam had been Killian's brother, and that he had never mentioned his name to Emma before now. According to David, the man had died many years ago in Neverland; apparently tricked by Pan and mortally wounded by the Dreamshade plant when Killian was very young: before he had become a pirate.

"After our mother died, our dear ole dad drank our household into one of poverty, before he took off without a word," he said bitingly, a look of resentment on his face.

She recognized that it wasn't any easier for him to talk about his family, than it was for Emma to talk about her lack of one. She knew his early life hadn't been easy, as Killian had fleetingly mentioned in Neverland that he had virtually grown up without parents.

The captain's eyes darted from the painting to the model ship, and his mouth twitched slightly. "It hadn't been all bad, I suppose," Killian said quietly, his hand grazing over the bottle.

Despite his face being turned away, Emma could smell the liquor on his breath and for a moment, she was reminded of their time in Neverland.

"My brother was so stubborn," he continued, nearly laughing at the memory. "He couldn't accept that our father would leave willingly, so he and I made a ship for him: one with black sails and a name worthy of her."

Emma didn't have to think hard to guess that name.

Killian turned around and wandered back over to his bunk, before he slumped down, to sit on the edge of the mattress.

"We placed a message inside the bottle asking him to return home to us."

She walked toward him without a word, her gaze maintained on his face, searching for any sign that he wanted to her to leave. It was Emma's constant expectation that she wasn't wanted, but knew it couldn't be true in this case.

This man had never made her feel anything but needed and cared for.

Emma sat down beside him, and watched Killian's profile in the candlelight, the shadows clashing with the flickering highlights.

"But he was already home. Even though our father was a blacksmith by trade, he loved the sea. He said it was the one place that he ever truly belonged."

Emma understood all too well: the need to feel as if you mattered to others, and were meant to be somewhere. Besides her short time with Henry in New York, she had never known such a place; even during her time with Neal, as they had been constantly running from one refuge to another.

He stared out into the dimly lit cabin, as a tear slipped out and down his cheek; reminding Emma of the soft pattering of droplets above deck as it started to rain, and she couldn't help but move closer to Killian, as he slowly fell apart in front of her.

"Liam was the only home I ever knew. He was my brother, my captain…my best friend," he said quietly, his voice breaking slightly. "The very best of me."

Without thinking, she placed her hand on his back, his skin warm beneath the thin cloth of his tunic. Emma half expected him to turn and kiss her, but he leaned forward, resting his head against her shoulder. It felt so natural, and she nearly smiled at her lack of fear or insecurity.

"He was a gift to the world, Swan. He would have done so many great things…" His voice was like sandpaper, rough and unrelenting; but Emma let him continue, as her heart drowned in his confessions.

"And what have I done besides plunder, lie, and take anything I wanted without question; hurting anyone who was unfortunate enough to cross my path," he spat out into the quiet room.

Suddenly, she felt a shudder, and Emma realized that Killian was shaking. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him as close to her as she could, while his body shook with small, silent sobs.

There was a gripping tug at her insides, the guilt and self-loathing had returned. Had she pushed him so far away that his only refuge was, like it had been for so many centuries, at the bottom of a bottle?

They stayed that way for some time, before he turned his head slowly toward her, his face wet with tears. For the first time that night, his eyes met Emma's directly; and her throat clenched at the desperation and pain she saw there.

"Since Liam, no one had ever given me a real chance, Emma," he said, his voice rough, but steady. "Before we went to Neverland, you looked me in the eyes in that diner and asked me to be part of something bigger than myself. And I was afraid at first; afraid to gain so much after so long, only to lose it again."

Before she could respond, Killian brought his left hand up to cup her cheek, and Emma closed her eyes, one of her own tears slipping out in front of him without hesitation.

"I'm not afraid anymore, Darling. I know that I've hurt you; and for that, I'm truly sorry," he whispered.

Emma's eyes snapped open at those words, and something ripped relentlessly at her heart. He had absolutely no reason to apologize to her. Despite him hiding the truth, he had done everything to ensure her safety and those she loved most. He had done everything for her, and she had turned her back on him.

The truth was: that Emma's biting words in the kitchen hadn't been meant for Killian. Her anger and frustration weren't aimed at her parents, or Neal, or Regina; or even Gold- who had spent so much effort keeping things hidden from everyone.

Emma's words had been meant for herself.

There had been so much truth to what Killian had said when he called her out in the kitchen, that it was as if the man had reached into Emma's soul, and pulled the epiphany from out of her.

It was she who needed saving; or rather, who needed to adapt to the life that was in front of her. Instead of lashing out at the people who had helped her get this far, Emma needed to focus on what she could control, rather than to dwell on the things she couldn't.

There was an overwhelming urge to press her mouth to his; to let all those weeks of unshed tears flow across her cheeks, and to tell him that she was sorry too, but Killian shifted to lie down on his back, before he spoke again.

"When I first visited Narnia, I was a young captain of a pirate ship, looking for vengeance and treasure," he said quietly, staring up at the ceiling. Emma could see the resolve in his eyes, now, and knew this was difficult for him.

"The Telmarines had tricked me and my crew into entering the land. They were in search of these magical rings; ones that held a power, legend claimed, that was strong enough to bring someone back from the dead. Since we were already there, I naturally wished to find them, so as to return my brother to me. I was such a fool…"

She held her breath at his words, realizing he had been to Narnia before their trip there together, but had never asked for the specifics.

"We never found the blasted rings," the pirate said with a huff, before he continued. "I lost many men in my selfish pursuits, before we stumbled upon a large waterfall."

Emma turned her body to face his then, tucking her right leg underneath her. She grasped Killian's hand in her own to push him further on.

"I saw it," he said breathlessly, his voice hoarse. "When I looked into that waterfall as a young man, I saw everything that was possible; the person I always dreamt to be. I saw myself as a captain of the Royal Navy, and a wife and children by my side. I saw a man who would have made my brother proud, staring back at me in those glistening waters."

His face was lit up with such promise and happiness, that Emma felt uplifted, yet torn at the same time. How could he believe himself to be anything less than a great man? Suddenly, she realized his meaning, and he turned his head to catch her eyes again: stark blue merging with soft green.

"That's what I wanted for you, Emma; that's why I sought out the falls: for you to see your true self, and all the great things of which you were capable."

Despite his disheveled hair, and outgrown facial hair; despite his tearstained face and chapped lips, the man was never more beautiful to her, than he was right now. Killian's voice cracked again, and Emma's soul fell apart, and came together in the same moment.

"I wanted you to see yourself the way that I do."

This time, the surge of feeling that overcame her wasn't guilt or fear.

This man had taken a leap of faith when he came back with the bean and took them to Neverland; had opened up to her, so Emma knew she wasn't alone in their search for Henry. He had been the one person (the only person) who could have convinced her to leave New York and come to a land of magic.

Faith without proof- he had believed in Emma from the beginning, and now he needed the same from her.

It shouldn't have taken me this long.

Her mind screamed at her for being such a fool. This wasn't the man who broke Emma's heart and left her in a decade of darkness. He was the light; the blue fire that burned hot inside of her magic, despite all of the cold she had given him. Killian accepted it all: her scars, her insecurities; the pain and anger. He accepted-loved- her. Not just the Savior, the princess, or the broken orphan; but Emma- just Emma.

He loved all of her.

Emma looked down at their hands, and pulled his left one to press her lips against its warmth. His smile was small and cautious, and Emma knew that he was waiting for her to speak.

"It was you."

His look of surprise should have deterred her; as she had kept this from him for so long, that Emma considered never telling him at all. Despite her anger at all the things he had kept hidden, she didn't understand why it was so crucial to tell him this.

Until now.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Emma leaned forward and the words flowed out of her like a long sigh.

"It wasn't the waterfall that brought my memory back that night in Narnia, Killian," she whispered, her heart pounding in her ears. "It was your kiss… our kiss."

His frown slowly disappeared; the lines of his face smoothing out, as Emma watched his features for any indication of anger or hurt. She would deserve the worst kind of punishment; there had been uncertainty in almost every decision she had made, in every word she left unsaid, and in every feeling Emma had suppressed along the way.

So it stunned her when his grip tightened; and before she could say anything else, Killian yanked her forward and on top of him, as Emma squealed out in surprise. He used his one hand to pull her leg over so that she straddled his waist, while his other cupped the nape of Emma's neck, as a wide smile broke out onto his face.

"It's about bloody time, Swan."

He could have hurled her over the deck of the ship, and it would have been less of a shock. Emma scrunched her brow in confusion, her mouth agape.

"You knew?"

The answering chuckle rumbled in his chest under Emma's palms, as she braced herself above him. Killian had a look of amusement on his face that baffled her as much as his words had. He shook his head, and swept a few blonde locks of hair away from her face.

"I wasn't absolutely certain, Darling, but I had plenty of reasons to construct a theory."

Emma was speechless.

It was clear that they cared about one another, in addition to the obvious attraction from the moment they met. But true love's kiss had blindsided Emma; not only because she hadn't been certain that it was even possible to begin with, but that his love- their love - was pure enough to break a curse.

And he had known all along.

She finally found her voice, but Emma had trouble keeping her breathing steady. "When?"

His smirk softened, and Killian quirked an eyebrow in his typical fashion. She had to hold back a smile, though, when he gave her a look that reminded Emma of Henry when she caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to.

"I must confess that I had my misgivings when the curse didn't break in New York," he replied, biting his bottom lip slightly like he was searching for the right words. "But shortly after our return from Narnia, your father shared his tale of how the kiss hadn't worked on your mother the first time he had tried it due to her lack of belief in herself."

Emma narrowed her eyes, inwardly scolding and thanking David for his interference. It was oddly comforting that her father and the captain seemed to have come to an understanding on her part; but it was just as frustrating, that it appeared her parents had already accepted what it had taken Emma so long to.

He gently raised his hips, and Emma felt a jolt of desire shoot to her core. She took a sharp inward breath, and held it there, as Killian's hand moved from the back of her neck to her cheek again, his rough thumb tracing her soft, lower lip.

"But after your magic had restored my severed hand, I had no doubt in your feelings for me," he said, lifting himself up into a sitting position so that he could speak in her ear. "I simply remained hopeful that your stubbornness would give way to your heart, luv."

Emma threw her head back and laughed, all of the stress and apprehension leaving her effortlessly. Killian didn't waste the opportunity, lowering his wet lips to her neck. He nibbled on her collarbone, the whiskers of his beard tickling the sensitive skin and causing goose bumps to form all over her body.

She moaned aloud, and lowered her mouth to meet his, the spicy taste of rum still lingering there. Their tongues dueled slowly, as he massaged her lips with his own in lazy patterns. It was deep and passionate, but Emma could feel the difference in their touch, now that she was completely open to him.

Slowly, she parted from his kiss and leaned her forehead against Killian's; his breath hot against the exposed skin.

Rather than flash a smug grin, he surprised her when his features turned serious. His genuine look of adoration spoke louder than words, before he pulled her down on top of him. Draping his left arm over her shoulder, she leaned her head into his neck, and inhaled Killian's scent with a deep breath.

She wasn't ready to say everything she wanted to just yet, but Emma knew it was here that she belonged, in his arms; and that this fact neither scared, nor upset her. She wove her hand into the hair on his chest, as he traced feathery paths on her arm with his calloused fingers.

It had been over a decade since she allowed herself to be held by anyone, but the familiarity and safety of his embrace overwhelmed her senses, as Emma felt her body slowly fall into unconsciousness.

Despite wanting to say so much more, she settled for the apology that he should have heard long before now.

"I'm sorry that I made you wait two years, Killian."

The two of them laid together, the ship rocking back-and-forth in the gentle waves, like a mother cradling her children protectively; and before her eyes finally closed she heard him whisper to her in the silence of the cabin.

"I have been waiting for you all my life, Emma."

A/N: Thank you for sticking with me (and Emma) and please leave a review for us :)