Emma

Emma stood at the bow of the Aquilion, looking ahead to where she hoped Storybrooke would be, counting down the meters (or knots, as Killian would say) to where they would cross the invisible line that protected the town from outsiders.

She had given up on pacing up and down the deck like Regina was doing and decided to simply watch the sunrise while silently urging the ship to cut through the waves faster.

They had lost contact with Storybrooke at the height of one of the worst storms Emma had ever seen. Killian had reassured her that he had seen worse when he came to check on her after one of the most violent bouts of the violent waves and found her on the floor, struggling to stand up again.

It had been embarrassing, to say the least.

But luckily, his sister's promised protection had held, and with his amazing skills as Captain, they had come out of it unscathed.

And so, it was Storybrooke that now worried her.

At first, when the radio failed to connect, they chalked it up to the chaos on their side, but as time went on and they entered calmer waters without any response to their calls, they started to worry. It had been a concern that they'd spent endless time debating, back when they had set out their plan, the possibility of the town being targeted in their absence.

They'd taken enough precautions and set up patrols all along town, with enough measures for Plan B and even Plan C, but that didn't reassure Emma. Not now that she knew what they were up to. One of the arguments made still stood, which was that if Killian were to be the actual target, whoever went with him would be in more danger than those left behind, which they now knew to be true.

But that didn't make Emma worry any less about her family and the town.

Between her worry for them and the pirate standing at the wheel a few feet away, it was no surprise she had not slept a wink.

She subtly glanced back at him, trying to disguise her perusal.

These days, her perusal was always met with clear proof of his exhaustion. Emma could catalog every sign on his body, from how wired and on edge he was. After last night, it was certainly not a better sight that greeted her, but it still made her breath easier.

He was here.

He was safe.

(For now)

The unsettled feeling hadn't left Emma hours later, when her eyes had feasted on a safe and sound Henry and her parents had reassured them of everyone's safety—everyone but one.

A man was dead.

Granted, she hadn't really known him. But a man was dead, stabbed in his bed, a floor below Killian's, much like Killian had been attacked a month before.

It didn't take a genius to deduce what might have happened, much like it didn't take one to look at Killian and know he was somehow blaming himself for it.

It was why Emma took to recounting their own adventure herself after David finished his retelling of the chaos the storm—and the murder they discovered in the midst of it—had wrecked on the town, allowing Killian to slink back into a corner of the bullpen with a grateful nod to her and Regina, who had supplied some of her commentary to the tale.

"So, that is all we know now, so obviously, we need more information on what we are dealing with. Belle, do you think you could focus your research around children of deities and Davy Jones and his little pet?" questioned Emma, ready to tackle the crisis head-on as best they could.

"Well, I have read stories about demigods in this realm and the Enchanted Forest. But much like the stories about Davy Jones, they were treated as legends, and word of mouth will have greatly distorted the facts. I could do some research on that along with the research on Davy Jones."

The librarian said this with an uneasy glance at Killian, who had retreated further into himself as others kept sneaking glances at him now that his status as the child of a goddess had been revealed.

"That would be greatly appreciated, Belle. And I will be assisting you, of course," piped up Killian from his corner.

Emma quickly glanced at him, but he was once again staring at the ceiling, as he had been doing most of the time, and she couldn't help but feel somewhat ignored. She knew feeling hurt about his nonchalance and distance was sort of silly. It was only last night that they had finally talked, and she had declared them friends.

She could not expect everything to change in one day.

But she wanted it.

She wanted it to change.

She wanted him to stop ignoring her and stop keeping his distance, like he had been for the last couple of weeks. She wanted him to come to her, talk to her, and maybe even trust her.

Because she needed to know what else Killian Jones was hiding.

Emma stayed behind as everyone started trickling out of the station hours later, when all questions had been exhausted and they had finished comparing notes on their respective adventures and theorizing about Davy Jones and his motives.

She saw Killian and Tinkerbelle share a look and head into the small break room rather than the exit. She instinctively ducked behind the door to eavesdrop after looking around to check that everyone else was too preoccupied to notice her nosiness.

"Okay, I'll bite," said Tink, not even bothering to whisper. "If your mother was a sea goddess, what does that actually make you, and how do you feel about it?"

"I don't know."

"Hmm, somehow I doubt that," hummed Tink thoughtfully. "Well, I guess that matters less than the other thing for now."

"What other thing?"

"The one you're hiding. I know there's something you're not saying," whispered Tinkerbelle. "Don't look at me like that, Jones; I may not have Emma's lie-detecting abilities—she's on to you too, by the way—but I can still smell your bullshit from a mile away."

Emma hated the feeling she got every time she saw (or, in this case, heard) Tink and Killian together; she now knew for sure nothing was going on between the fairy and the pirate (she had not missed the looks Tink shared with Will Scarlet when they thought no one was looking), and the more she saw them together, the more she understood that they were family to each other.

But she couldn't help but feel jealous.

Because Tink had not needed some stupid magical trick to know Killian was lying; she just knew him that well. And she could walk up to him and talk to him about it when Emma felt she couldn't.

"I..." Killian sighed. "I might know more than what has been revealed. But it is not urgent, and I require some time to think it through."

"Think what through?" hissed an exasperated Tinkerbell.

"I can't say."

"You better not be doing something stupid, Killian Jones, or I swear I will end your life myself."

"My, my... what would the Blue Fairy say if she heard you spouting such violent words?"

"Don't try to deflect, you idiot. If I get any sort of feeling that whatever information you are withholding is crucial to your safety, I will run to David and Emma faster than you can lift your hook. Do you understand?"

A charged silence stretched on at Tink's words, and Emma cursed her vantage point and the lack of visuals it gave her.

"It is, isn't it? You're hiding something that might jeopardize your life. For fuck's sake, Killian."

"Listen, it will not bring me in danger any more than I already am, I promise you, Tink. And I do not plan on withholding it for long. I simply require some time to do some research and gather my thoughts on it. I give you my word," vowed Killian, struggling to reassure Tinkerbelle.

"Research?" screeched Tink. "Is that not what we have been doing for weeks now?"

"Yes, research. I need to discuss some theories of mine with Regina and maybe even Belle, and then I can make an informed decision."

"An informed decision? Killian, you sound like you're buying a car, not putting yourself in mortal peril," snapped Tink. "You know what? Fine! But I am calling that little research meeting with Regina and Belle myself. And sooner rather than later."

"That is fine with me if it helps reassure you. The gods know I won't survive you nagging about this forever," snarked Killian.

But Emma was far from reassured; in fact, she was panicking.

Because she knew Killian Jones well enough to know that he held little regard for his life, especially if others were in danger, he was selfless and heroic like that, without even acknowledging that part of him.

It was one of the many things that she lo-

No.

It was one of the many things she liked about him.

As a friend.

And as his friend, she needed to take care of this matter after she figured out how to extract the information from him without revealing her eavesdropping.

No pressure at all, Emma.

Simply add it to the to-do list right under Find an apartment and ask dad for a job.

"Fuck!"

Emma suppressed the urge to fling off the many glass bottles filled with obscure ingredients in Regina's vault as she once again failed to make one of them disappear and reappear across the room.

"I was able to do this months ago! Why the hell won't it work now?"

Regina, who was sitting in a purple velvet armchair going through some research books, didn't even deign to look up and simply hummed in response to Emma's outburst, like she had been doing the whole afternoon. Emma wondered if the books had anything to do with what Killian had told Tink, but she knew there was no chance she would get that out of Regina.

That didn't mean she would let her magic teacher ignore her, though.

"Regina!"

"What, Emma?" snapped Regina. "You already know why it won't work, as I have told you a million times. Magic equals emotion."

"Yeah, but I can't love the damn bottles into acute disappearance, can I? It doesn't work like that. Anger and frustration are clearly not working either, so there must be something wrong with the magical theory. Right?"

Emma loathed magical theory, maybe even more than talking about feelings. As a kid, she had loved the Harry Potter series and had thought Hogwarts to be one of the most incredible places on earth. Now, she understood young Harry's frustration with subjects such as Transfiguration and Charms as she got magical homework from Regina to read up on the theory of a spell long before she could even start practicing it.

"No, Miss Swan. I am sure there is nothing wrong with a magical theory that has existed long before you were born and has been practiced by thousands of other magic users. Like you said, you could do this perfectly well months ago. Now, you can't. Ask yourself what changed."

The last time Emma had performed this particular spell, she had magicked Killian's hook from his brace to a torch across the diner as they had sat at a booth drinking hot chocolate and joking around. Now, she could count on one hand the number of times he smiled around her and still have some fingers left over.

So yeah, she knew what had changed.

She just refused to believe that it would be capable of affecting her magic like this.

"I'm going to tell you something that I only became aware of recently. It's an important lesson your mother taught me," said Regina softly, having seen some of Emma's inner turmoil on her face. "If you don't speak your emotions, you serve them, and if you don't tell your story, you lose it—or, what might be worse, you get lost inside it."

"I know what my story is, Regina. Neverland made me face the whole orphan girl turned Saviour part of it, remember?" asked Emma irritatedly.

As lovely as it was to be able to have a personal conversation with Regina now—as they'd been at each other's throats for far too long for her not to be happy about this new development—Emma knew that Regina was far too inquisitive to have this particular conversation with.

"What about the romantic love part of it? Did it make you face that as well?" asked Regina knowingly.

"The romantic part of it? Really? I can't believe you, of all people, are saying this; you might be spending too much time with my parents," derided Emma.

"You know, for someone who was the sheriff of this town, you lack certain people's skills, Miss Swan. I guess we can attribute it to you not being elected properly - " mused Regina.

"I was properly elected, Regina; you tried to commit fraud, remember?" Emma sputtered, rolling her eyes.

"You can't honestly believe the best way to find out what Jones is hiding is through your usual - and very odd, I might add - hot-and-cold routine with the pirate?" continued Regina, unperturbed.

"Wait, so you know he's hiding something?"

"Of course I know he's hiding something; he's not the genius he seems to think he is," sneered Regina, rolling her eyes.

But Emma still caught the fond smile she attempted to hide.

Emma had noticed on the ship, and even before then, Regina and Killian had formed their own odd friendship. It was hard to see at first; they still bickered and snarked with each other, trading insults like jokes, but they had an understanding between the two that they didn't have with others. She was yet undecided on whether she liked that or not.

(See: unreasonable feelings of jealousy.)

"Okay, since you seem to know everything about him," snarked Emma. "What is the best way, then?"

"Have you met Killian Jones? That man loves talking. Just get him a beer or even a hot chocolate—though he prefers tea—lull him into a false sense of security and ask him an innocent question to get the ball rolling," shared Regina, smirking. "The more you share, the more he'll share. He's very capable of telling on himself without anyone's help. You just have to be there for it. Be his friend, Emma; surely you, of all people, can do that."

Emma point-blank refused to question Regina on what exactly she meant by that last part, knowing she might not like the answer because there was that word again: friend. And what did it say about the state of things between her and Killian Jones if even Regina, who had mercilessly teased them at any turn about any hint of romance, seemingly only saw them as friends now and nothing else?

"If it is that easy, why haven't you asked him?" asked Emma accusingly.

"Because some things are not my place to question, I leave that to Robin and Tinkerbelle, and even Belle sometimes. Most of the time, he'll come to me if it is something I need to know. I am assuming that what I believe I absolutely need to know when it comes to Killian Jones doesn't line up with what you feel you need to know when it comes to him," said Regina smugly.

Emma tried not to grumble back as she turned her back on Regina. She envied the former Evil Queen for having the knowledge and reassurance of where she stood in Killian Jones' life, but she resented herself even more. The only reason why Emma and Regina had seemingly switched positions when it came to the pirate captain was because Emma had left when Regina had stayed, and that had made all the difference in the world.

And while she had now stopped running, she still wasn't sure she knew how to stay somewhere. Emma knew better than anyone that saying you were there to stay wasn't enough; you had to do it and prove that you were not going anywhere.

And she understood that, understood why it was like that.

(But how long would it take before Killian believed her intentions to stay?)

Emma was too busy musing on her current situation to notice the exasperated look Regina gave her. Still, she did hear the suffering sigh the mayor let out in her direction.

"Listen, your parents will probably mention it later today, but just so you know, you will probably find Killian and the usual suspects down at the Rabbit Hole tonight having some drinks. It might be a good opportunity for you to talk to him," said Regina in a tone one might employ when talking to a very stubborn toddler.

Emma turned back to the glass bottles, choosing not to dignify Regina with a response.

This didn't seem to bother the mayor, who returned to her books as Emma glared at the bottles once again, now knowing for sure that moving them would be a fruitless pursuit.

Her parents had indeed mentioned plans for drinks later that evening and had been pleasantly surprised when Emma expressed interest in going. Granny had offered to babysit Leo and Henry, and so Emma found herself walking behind her parents into a slightly crowded Rabbit Hole that night.

Regardless of whether Killian would be there (and whether she would be able to actually get something out of him, as suggested by Regina), Emma had been happy to accept the invitation.

This was, after all, how staying looked like.

She looked around as they approached a rather big table where some of the dwarves sat with Ruby, Belle, and Tink. David greeted everyone and walked further on to the bar, where Robin and Little John were gathering a round of drinks for what seemed like half the bar. Emma made sure to greet everyone, though less enthusiastically than her mother did, before sitting down next to Tink, who smirked at her as she noticed her scanning the establishment.

"Pool table in the corner to the right. He's absolutely destroying Will for like the fourth time in a row," she whispered to Emma with a wink.

Emma blushed furiously and couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her at the fairy's antics. Tink was truly a menace when she wanted to be; Emma could see why she and Killian were such good friends.

She didn't try to mask her glance at where the fairy had directed her gaze and was rewarded with the sight of Killian Jones' delectable form leaning on a pool table.

He had disposed of his usual leather jacket and vest and was clad in a black dress shirt, barely buttoned up as usual and with the sleeves rolled up. From her vantage point, she could see exactly how well the jeans he wore shaped his ass as he bent over the table for his turn.

The cocky smirk he threw as Will Scarlet grimaced and the ball went in seamlessly had Emma wishing she had something to fan herself.

He still looked rather tired, but there was a certain spring in him—as if he had gone home and slept the entire afternoon—that managed to mask his exhaustion. He lined up another ball perfectly, and Emma admired the confident way in which he played with his hook and one hand expertly.

(Did they have pool tables in the Enchanted Forest?)

Suddenly, Tink's bony elbow in her side startled her and brought her attention back to the table right on time as the round of drinks was brought and passed around by her dad and Robin.

Emma took a sip of the drink that was passed to her as she once again peeked at Killian, only to be met with his gaze and a soft smile when their eyes met.

It was all the invitation she needed.

More than an hour later, her original plan of subtly interrogating Killian had fallen through as she and Tink had joined him along with Will and Ruby in a friendly but convoluted competition of pool matches.

She was paired with Killian against Tink and Will, and the two of them were absolutely destroying them. Emma knew she should probably feel bad about it, especially since Tink was fairly new to the game, but she enjoyed winning way too much.

Proof of this were the barbs and taunts she kept exchanging with Will Scarlet, who was as competitive as her and who had jokingly alluded to the Savior not being able to handle herself without magic. The words had barely left his mouth when Emma picked a cue and challenged him to a round, about three rounds ago.

"Don't let it be said that Emma Swan can't handle some balls," smirked Emma as she pocketed the last ball, ensuring her and Killian's latest win.

Ruby snorted into her drink, and Emma suddenly realized how that sentence could be interpreted and wanted the ground to swallow her up.

Killian guffawed as he started setting up the next game, and Emma immediately turned to him.

"Oh, you know what I meant, Jones. How about you focus on winning this round like you said you would?"

"Far be it for me to deny a beautiful woman such a simple request, Swan."

Emma turned to grab a cue from the wall as she furiously tried to hide the blush on her face.

Oh, she was in trouble.

Two more rounds in Emma's favor as she faced off against Killian and some drinks later, her confidence had risen considerably. It was with a certain giddiness that she wasn't sure she'd ever felt before that she turned to taunt Killian.

"What's the matter, Captain? Can't handle it?"

Blue eyes met green in playful challenge and paused for only a beat.

"Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it," he said, his eyes sparkling in memory of the last time he had spoken those words to her.

His eyes held hers long enough to make her breathing quicken, and she found she didn't want to leave his gaze and wanted to just drown in the ocean of his eyes. It shouldn't have sent heat tumbling through her or made her toes curl, but it did, and damn him for it because he knew.

"How about you talk less and show how well you handle it after you get us some drinks?" countered Emma, smiling cheekily.

"As you wish," chuckled Killian softly.

Emma gulped at his choice of words. In Neverland, she had wondered if he knew what it meant—the hidden connotation of the phrase—which she knew well but didn't expect Captain Hook to. But now, she found herself hoping that in his exploration of the modern world, he had watched some classic movies and seen The Princess Bride.

But she couldn't ask him.

If he had indeed seen it and she asked, they would find themselves in a very awkward position, and if he hadn't, she would also find herself in the very awkward position of having to explain.

So Emma chose silence as he gestured to the bathroom and walked away, leaving her to admire the view.

(Gods, he could fill in those jeans well.)

Regardless of what they'd said to each other last night, Emma didn't feel like they were friends. Especially not in moments like this, when she was left feeling all flustered in his presence.

She didn't feel this way with anyone else she called a friend.

Every interaction between the two of them was taken apart and analyzed intensively by her brain in a way she never did with others. And she knew why she did that; she wasn't that oblivious, but it complicated all their interactions so much that she sometimes felt like a bumbling teenager talking to her crush in high school.

Which was ludicrous because she had never even been that teenager.

And yet, much like a teenager, she kept making ludicrous choices led by her hormones.

Such as following Killian Jones into a darkened hallway.

Emma knew she was looking for trouble.

She was not inebriated, but she had had enough to lower her inhibitions. And lately, her inhibitions only existed to keep her away from Killian Jones' lips.

Lips she very much wanted to kiss now after watching him nibble and bite on them at every turn he took on the table.

Lips, she very much should never kiss again.

Because she had never felt this way before, and beyond scaring her, it now confused her.

It had been one kiss.

Just one kiss.

And now, even though it was a thing that might have started off poorly, Killian Jones was someone she needed. Just to be there for her, to listen, and to make outrageous remarks that made her smile. She needed his quiet but strong encouragement and helpful counsel in times of crisis.

She needed him to kiss her.

It was as she thought this that he stepped out of the men's bathroom and into the dark hallway, straight into her path.

And so, before he could process her presence or intentions, she kissed him.

Kissed him because it wasn't like she hadn't wanted this from the moment she stepped into the bar.

(And New York, and Neverland, and a beanstalk in the Enchanted Forest.)

It was just that now; maybe she was ready to let herself want it.

He kissed her back, his hand around the back of her head to cradle her as he pushed her up against the nearest wall, and she couldn't think when he kissed her like that, like part of him was pouring out into her and she couldn't decipher where she ended and he began.

There would be no coming back from this, not when every kiss felt like this.

Because she hadn't known, hadn't been ready to understand their connection during that first kiss in Neverland and fully grasp what it meant, but now, as his lips fused with hers once again, she finally understood how it felt to see the other half of her soul.

Something in her pushed outward, a flash of something, and Emma felt it all the way down to her toes as she clutched him closer.

Considering the active choice that had led her here, the thought struck her abruptly and ridiculously.

I kissed Killian.

Holy shit, I am kissing Killian Jones.

(Again)

So much for being friends.

It was enough to make her step back suddenly to lock eyes with Killian's wide ones.

He looked as wrecked as she felt.

"Interpret that as you wish," whispered Emma softly, her lips still tingling with the phantom imprint of his mouth as she hurriedly walked away.