This Captain Swan story was born of me wanting to write something else in the vein of "Under the Weather", but in reverse. Instead of Killian being sick, it is Emma who isn't well/hurt and has to allow someone to take care of her instead of being so tough. I'm still debating what I think of it. For some reason I keep worrying it's too much/overdramatic/out of character for Emma, but it has grown beyond my original length and plot, so hopefully you will have plenty to enjoy – probably about 3 chapters! It's set some time in the future when all of the main inhabitants of Storybrooke have chosen to return to their home realm for good. Please take a moment to let me know what you think. And of course, I don't own them in any way, shape, or form.

"Allowing Weakness"

Chapter One

It had begun so gradually that Emma could not pinpoint a cause, nor was she really aware of the pain before it was fully and overwhelmingly upon her. She had woken with a headache once again, in the tower room of Snow and Charming's castle which she had chosen for herself upon their permanent return to the Enchanted Forest, but that was not necessarily a cause for alarm. Though they had managed not to anger or awaken some new evil villain for some months now, and she was finally settling in and learning to enjoy the fact that she now had a home and family, there were still several stressors on Emma's plate to cause an aching head now and again.

She had chalked many of the headaches she was experiencing up to the fact that once the coffee and hot chocolate they had been able to pack and carry back with them had been depleted, coffee did not exist in her birth realm, and she was going through major caffeine withdrawal. On top of that, she had been helping rebuild her parents' castle and kingdom, making sure the ogres in the region were truly gone and helping to drive out those that weren't, and figuring out how to peacefully share Henry with Regina on a fair and balanced schedule. The formerly Evil Queen had mostly forgiven Emma for her mistake with Maid Marian – largely because Robin had chosen Regina in the end – but things could still be tense between two strong-willed women who both loved one young man more than life itself and often disagreed with each other's methods. Emma was mostly grateful that the other woman hadn't crushed her heart or turned her into a toad, and she was certainly willing to be grateful for small favors. Still, it was hard to let her son go for a week at a time to the neighboring castle to stay with his adoptive mother.

More than all of these though, Emma missed her pirate. They had been back in their rightful kingdom for no more than a month when word had come that King Midas hoped to open peaceful trade routes by sea between their two kingdoms and to reaffirm the alliance that Charming and Abigail's marriage would have once insured. Emma's father had jumped at the chance to mend one of the injuries done by his falling in love with Snow and abandoning his agreement. Likewise, Killian had been both honored and thrilled when Charming had named him Captain of his newly formed Navy and appointed his daughter's consort head of the fleet he sent to determine the routes and regulations with Midas' sailors.

Emma hadn't wanted to keep Killian from something he loved, something that would give him legitimate purpose and standing in what was to be their permanent home. But she also had not figured on him being gone so long – or on just how much she would miss his constant presence at her side. Apparently, the waterways were not as well-charted as they had hoped, and more time and exploration had been needed. Killian wrote her as often as possible, and she responded in kind; her mother's chosen messenger birds making it a decently prompt means of communication.

However, at night when she laid down a body aching from trudging miles through forests scouting for danger, hauling materials for building with the dwarves, or from the battering of further magic lessons with either Regina or Rumple, she wished for Killian's warmth at her back and his lean, muscled arms to gather her close. When she woke each morning to the sunlight illuminating a room it still took her time to recognize, in a realm that might always seem strange to her, Emma couldn't help wishing to turn and bury her face in his chest, anchoring her to something loved and familiar.

Upon dragging herself from bed that morning, a worse reaction than usual had occurred, as she had literally been forced to sprint for the chamber pot, barely reaching it in time to empty the contents of her rolling stomach. Emma knew that if she were less stubborn and spoke to her mother or Dr. Whale about the nausea and the pounding that seemed to have localized itself in her right temple, they might know how to ease the pain at least partially, or would convince her to take the day off from whatever task she had set for herself. But pride, embarrassment, and toughened self-reliance kept combining to keep her silence. Her mother would only worry, and she felt that no one ought to blame her for not wanting Dr. Frankenstein poking around on her head. Instead, she had gritted her teeth, dressed, foregone breakfast, told both Snow and Ruby that she was taking an early morning walk, and left the palace grounds while the grass was still dewy and the morning air cool and mild.

Picking her way gingerly in flat slippers over the slick blades of grass, her stomach still unsettled and her head alternating between feeling abnormally heavy and then light, Emma wondered if she were even keeping to a straight path forward as she walked. Glancing over her shoulder back at the castle, she hoped that no one had decided to watch after her as she went. It was only now as she got going that she realized where she wanted to be. Across a few fields, there were some high bluffs looking out over the docks used by ships of her parents' fleet, and beyond those docks, the sea. She sat there for some time almost every evening, though she hoped no one else knew. For someone who until now had always been able to convince herself that she needed no one, it seemed almost pathetically dependent, but she did it to look out over the water, hoping to see the sails of Killian's ship returning in the distance. Emma had told him in her letters of course, no longer wanting him to wonder if she cared for him as much as he did her; she had already put him through that for too long. Anyone else aware of her ritual, however, would have had to figure it out on their own.

When Emma reached her usual vantage point, she breathed a sigh of relief, more than the simple accomplishment truly warranted. She put out a hand to steady herself against the lone tree she often sat under, enjoying its shade and silent company. Her other hand came up to tentatively knead at her forehead; eyes squinted closed as she drew in a deep, calming breath. The pounding seemed to have doubled with the small bit of exercise, which puzzled her. Usually when she gave herself a few moments of peace and quiet alone, the headaches would somewhat ease. 'I must have been so much worse a coffee addict than I realized,' she thought to herself, almost doubling over and thanking her lucky stars she had opted against breakfast as her stomach gave another violent lurch. 'This needs to pass already. It's getting ridiculous,' her mental rant continued.

She was torn between trying to ease herself down to sit and catch her breath, or starting back to the castle and finally seeking someone's advice, when her gaze skirted back out over the water. Some time while she had been distracted by her symptoms, a ship had appeared on the horizon, cutting though the waves at a brisk, steady clip and drawing ever closer to their port.

Emma's breath caught in excitement, for a moment even allowing her to almost forget the pain in her head, as she stepped closer to the edge of the bluffs, body straining forward in an attempt to discern any significant details of the vessel. She had to squint and refocus several times; the view before her eyes seeming to flicker fitfully in and out of focus. Finally, to her delight, she could just make out the graceful swan figurehead that identified Killian's new ship entering the harbor, and her heart actually leapt in her chest. She let herself savor feeling lighter than she had in weeks and could not help whispering to herself happily, "He's back!"

Unfortunately, her relief and anticipation as she gathered her strength to turn from her viewpoint and make her way down to the wharf to greet him, almost blocked out the way her vision was still wavering and how she listed unsteadily on her feet. It was only when she lurched to the left, nearly falling to her knees, that Emma registered just how dizzy she had become. She overcorrected in an effort to right herself and found her body leaning back precariously over the edge of the embankment. Her arms flailed desperately seeking something within reach to grasp onto. Her feet scrabbled frantically for purchase, but instead of regaining her balance, the ground seemed to give way beneath her. As she tried to twist and throw herself forward to solid ground again, pain almost equal to what had been hammering through her skull lanced through her ankle. Her frenzied struggle was all for naught. Flashes of light danced before her eyes for several oddly suspended moments as Emma felt her body began to drop. She tumbled helplessly down the slope, and everything faded to darkness.