He had messed up, and he knew it.

The ridiculous thing was, a small part of him had hoped that secretly she would be impressed. That when she said "stay with Elsa", that was some sort of code for "help me fix this". He so badly wanted to be the one to help her fix this.

But when he'd come face to face with the Snow Queen his gut had instantly told him it was all a huge mistake. He was a pirate - he had known how to hustle and scare and, to his shame, cheat people into giving him what he wanted, but he didn't have magic. Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire, and he just wasn't up to the task. Not only had he ended up putting himself, and Elsa, in danger, but he'd put her in danger too. When she'd shown up just in time to save his ass from what would have been a most undignified death.

She had saved him though...

The night was cold, the type of cold that slipped right under your skin and into your bones. There was a bite in the air, a chill that he wouldn't be able to shake even when he returned to his room and crawled into bed, alone, frustrated and fearing he had managed to push her away from him for good. He refused to sit inside, surrounded by bickering, the dwarves and Granny arguing with Mary Margaret about what they were to do next, Elsa frantically trying to piece together the whereabouts of her sister, baby Neal screaming his lungs out. It was all just too much. Outside was cold, but at least he could hear himself think. By now, though, most of them had left, yet he hadn't managed to move from what was quickly becoming his regular table.

He pulled his hip-flask from his belt and threw back what would have equated to a good couple of shots of rum. The warm liquid coated his throat, sharp and almost burning in comparison to the frosty air against his neck and chest. His back was to the clock tower, and he had no idea how long he had been sitting there. All he knew was that it had been too long since he had seen her face and heard her voice, and no amount of alcohol was going to make him feel any better about that.

His mind began to wander, back to the moment she saved him. Her magic, when she was able to control it, was powerful, and breathtaking - at least, it was to him. When she focused, her eyes squeezed tight shut, and she got completely lost, just for a second, in what she was doing. It had been like that today, only he could have sworn that beneath the "dairy queen" bravado, he had detected a wobble in her voice, a tiny hint of fear that she would never have allowed the Snow Queen to pick up on. He knew her though, better than she knew herself, almost. And he had heard it. He only hoped that his belief in her, the belief that he consistently showed to her, and the encouragement he had been giving her, was enough to get her through these moments.

He sighed and his breath appeared before him, tiny frozen particles dancing in the air before disappearing without a trace. On occasions like this he was almost grateful for the hook - it meant only one hand was becoming chapped and raw in the current temperature. It was probably time to call it a night.

With that, the door of Granny's opened and he swivelled his neck, his breath catching in his throat when he realised it was her. To play it cool and hope she has forgiven him, or apologise immediately? He tried a smile and placed his flask down on the table, preparing to stand.

"Emma, I…"

"Sit."

She had been striding towards him but when she reached a few steps away she slowed down, pointing at the bench. He decided not to test her, remaining seated at the very table she had kissed him at upon their return from the past.

"Emma, can I just.."

"Shhhh."

"Love, I…"

"I said shhh, Killian," she interrupted, her voice steel-like and calm.

At least she was still calling him by his real name, he supposed.

She took another slow step in his direction, wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to protect herself. From the cold or from this conversation, he wasn't quite sure.

She looked everywhere but at him for a few seconds, her eyes tracing the outline of Granny's against the inky black sky, the shining clock tower and the tables surrounding him. Eventually, she sighed and met his gaze.

"Can we please not talk right now?"

He felt himself nod, although every fibre of his being was begging him to reach out to her, to ask her to forgive him for his stupidity. He ran his hand through his disheveled hair and closed his eyes, breathing in some calming air and shutting out the uncertainty of the moment for just a second.

His reverie was only broken when her body was suddenly pressed against his.

She sat on his lap and slipped her hands onto his waist under his heavy leather coat, sliding them around his back until she was completely encircling him. Her entire body was pressed tightly to his, so tight it was almost hard to breathe - it was like she physically couldn't get close enough to him. Instinctively he pulled her even closer, wrapping his arms around her and holding her against him, noting her uneven breathing and rapid heartbeat. Her head was tucked into his neck, her cheek pressed against his bare skin, and it was only then he realised the unsteady breathing was accompanied by tears. Her lips were grazing his collarbone and his pressed kisses to the top of her head, as he ran his hand soothingly across her back.

Time lost all meaning over the next few minutes. They sat, wrapped up in one another for as long as it took for her breathing to settle, her pulse to regulate and their bodies to warm up against the cold night air.

After what felt like an eternity - a calm, blissful eternity - she lifted her head from his shoulder, meeting his eyes. She was tearstained and vulnerable, but he wasn't sure she had ever looked more perfect to him. He kept one arm locked around her waist and lifted the other to graze the side of her face, tucking a loose tendril of golden blonde hair behind her ear. She stared at him, her gaze so intense it would probably have unnerved him had he not been so far gone, so completely in love with her. Her green eyes searching his for something he desperately wanted to give her, but wasn't sure she was ready to hear yet.

Eventually a small smile broke across her lips and she lifted her hand from his back to grab at the hair on the back of his neck.

"Hi," she whispered, her eyes dancing between his eyes and his lips.

"Hi."

She leaned in closer, her warm breath so close he was sure she was going to kiss him. Just as he moved to meet her halfway, she pulled back, never breaking eye contact and never moving her body from his, but stopping the kiss before it even began.

"Swan?"

She paused, taking in a huge breath and preparing herself for what he expected was going to be an epic speech. He prepared himself, hoping that whatever she said he was able to fix it.

"Don't you ever do that to me again."

Short and to the point - ever the pragmatist, his Swan.

He tried to curb the smile which was desperately fighting it's way to his face, but it was a losing battle. Her eyes were bright, almost playful, but her lips remained in a straight, determined line. She wasn't letting him off easy.

"Forgive me?" he whispered, raising his trademark eyebrow.

She might have had her warm chest pressed directly against his, but this time she wasn't buying what he was selling. Her tone was firm, all traces of the vulnerability from just moments ago fading quickly away.

"You think this is a joke? You almost died today."

"Aye, and you almost died last week, love. I'm not the only one who has put themselves in harm's way these past few days."

He couldn't miss the flash of annoyance in her eyes at that comment, but on this occasion she refrained from biting back. Instead, she ran her hand around the side of his neck and up on to his cheek.

"And tell me, pirate. How did that feel?"

Instinctively, his grasp on her waist tightened, and the air seemed to get a little bit thinner.

It had been, without a doubt, the most frightening moment of his life. And he had had his fair share of those over the years. The panic that had overtaken him when he thought he might lose her was unbearable. The feeling of relief when she tumbled into his arms, frozen and unsteady on her feet, holding on to him for dear life, was unlike anything he had ever experienced. They spent the rest of the day in the loft, her wrapped up in blankets and his arms, neither one willing to let go of the other. The ecstasy of having saved her tinged with the remnants of spine chilling terror at the thought of almost losing her, all swirled together in the overpowering love he felt for her. It occurred to him that the man he was now, today, was largely down to her. Honestly? He didn't who he was without her any more.

It couldn't possibly be that she felt this as strongly as he did. Could it?

He cleared his throat and took her hand, linking their fingers together, and squeezing it, just to make sure she was real.

"I think you'll remember, it wasn't exactly the best day of my life, love."

She placed a finger under his chin, tilting his head up so his eyes left their joined hands and met hers. She nodded.

"Right. So how do you think I felt today when I saw you under those icicles?"

Her voice was firm, but full of warmth.

"I didn't mean to scare you. I just want to help, to be of some use to you."

Her expression softened and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"I can think of plenty uses I might have for you…"

The brief, flirtatious moment broke the intensity of the conversation just for a second. He grinned at her, eyebrow raising up, challenging her to blush and look away. But she didn't.

"Seriously, though. You know you help just by being here, right? By being my go-to person to talk to. By believing in me more than I believe in me, and trusting me. But all of that requires that you stay alive."

"Same goes for you, Swan! This trust thing has to go both ways." he retorted.

"I know!" her free hand, the one that wasn't tangled with his, made its way lazily on to his chest, palm pressed against his skin and her fingers toying with the edge of his leather vest, "I know that. And I do trust you... I trust you completely."

Never, in his entire life had such a small sentence had such a monumentally huge impact on him. She trusted him.

"So, maybe in future we should both refrain from going solo in these situations. We'll stick together. Agreed?" she asked, her fingers slipping under the edge of the leather.

His pulse had quickened at the feel of her hand so close to his heart.

"Agreed."

She leaned in closer and he pulled her tight against him with his arm, his hook resting gently on her hip. Her eyes had returned to their previous pattern, glancing between his lips and his eyes, when the smile she was wearing started to fade, and a look of uncertainty took hold. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.

"The thing is… I've lost so many people. Killian, I… I can't lose you too. I just can't."

Her words hung in the air as he tried to process them. She was right. She had lost a lot of important people, as had he. They were kindred spirits, and the impact of the losses they had experienced over the years (her thirty to his three hundred) would never truly leave them. It was something he already knew about her, but to actually hear her say it out loud, and to admit she was scared of losing him, was something different entirely.

"Love," he whispered, letting go of her hand and grazing his thumb over her cheek, "You could never lose me. I'll always be here - I've survived three hundred years, my track record's pretty good."

She nodded, but her eyes were glistening.

"I know that. But seeing you today just made me realise that none of us are invincible. And I really don't want to have to deal with all of this by myself. I love my family, but you and I…"

She trailed off, trying to find the right words.

"We understand each other." he said, gently, revisiting the words she had once said to him before. Before Neverland, before Zelena, before visiting the past and before the Snow Queen. If they understood each other then, they must know each other by heart by now.

A small laugh escaped her and she moved both hands to grip the lapels of his jacket.

"Exactly."

Before she could say anything else, he moved his hand to the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her forward, closing the tiny gap that remained between them.

She audibly sighed when his lips met hers, and at that moment it was difficult to tell where she ended and he began. It was one of those kisses that started off slow, sure, but slow and seductive, before passion began to take over. It was an altogether different kiss than any they had shared before, a combination of the love and trust of their kiss outside Granny's after their return from the past, and the fire, passion and mutually growing attraction of the "one time thing" in Neverland. Her body was flush against his, and at that moment he knew he couldn't love her any more if he tried.

Eventually they pulled apart, lightheaded and fuzzy from lack of oxygen, gasping for air. In that one moment something had shifted, and their relationship had taken a step into new territory. The kiss had also awoken a desire he had desperately been trying to keep dormant, a mix of love and lust coursing through him, her hands still on him and her lips tracing a path along his neck as she rested her head against his shoulder.

If he didn't insist on ending the night here, he knew exactly where it was headed. And while he wasn't complaining, he knew it was wrong for both of them to rush this, when it had taken so long for them to get here, to this point.

He moved his head and guided her lips back to his with a gentle hand. She looked so utterly content in that moment, and he pressed his lips against hers in a chaste, "let's not get carried away" type of kiss, before he spoke.

"It's late, Swan. Allow me the pleasure of walking you home?"

Her smile was playful and she shook her head.

"Not so fast. You almost died today. I think you need to reassure me that you're not going anywhere one more time, before you do the chivalrous thing and walk me home. To my parents' house."

Her tone was light, but the fact that he knew part of that flirtatious comment was based on a genuine fear of losing him made him almost dizzy.

"Well. If the lady insists…"

His words were cut off by her kiss, her mouth fused to his once more and her arms wrapped around his neck.

He could definitely get used to this.

Minutes passed, and they were completely lost in one another, breaking apart for seconds at a time just to look at each other, share knowing smiles, his hand gently tugging at her loose hair while her fingers trailed a path down his neck and over his shoulders, following the sharp lines of his leather.

It wasn't until the sound of someone clearing their throat broke through their bubble that they finally separated.

"I'd say get a room, but I don't think your father would be too pleased with me if I did that," Granny smirked, hands on her hips.

Emma climbed off his knee and knotted her fingers through his, pulling him up to stand beside her.

"I think now might be the time to walk me home," she whispered, her cheeks turning pink as she avoided Granny's gaze, looking like a teenager who had been caught by her parents.

"We'll be on our way," he announced, nodding curtly to Granny as she turned to head back inside clicking the door closed behind her.

They made their way into the street, a comfortable silence enveloping them as they walked. He was busy thinking about where this all might be heading now, when she stopped in her tracks, pausing beneath the clock tower but refusing to drop his hand. He turned to watch her, his face etched with curiosity as she sighed, a huge sigh of relief, as if she was exhaling every ounce of tension in her body.

"Killian," she said, taking a step closer, staring into his eyes that soul searching way she sometimes did, like she was figuring him out just by looking.

"I'm happy."

It was a simple statement, but one that warmed his heart. It was all he wanted for her. To be safe and to be happy.

(Preferably with him.)

He couldn't find the words to form an appropriate response. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and dropped a kiss on the top of her head, as she buried her face in his chest, before angling her head up to press her lips against his jaw. All of a sudden she seemed completely at ease in publicly reaching out and holding on to him - even if it was currently in a deserted street, past midnight.

Five minutes later she was pressing her lips softly to his and whispering goodnight. As the door of the Charming's loft closed behind her, he stood, leaning breathlessly against the wall for just a few seconds before making his way down the stairs.

He had never been more glad not to have been killed.