By the time Killian climbed the stairs to Emma's room, she was already half way out the window and onto the fire escape. She maneuvered the slightly awkward couch cushion and a faded quilt she must have taken from the foot of her bed with the practiced ease of someone who'd preformed this dance a hundred times before. Realizing she intended for him to follow her, he too climbed out the window. His longer legs and the onion rings in his hand rendered his egress less graceful than hers had been, but only slightly.

"Sorry, gramps," Emma said with a smirk and a hint of a challenge in her voice as she casually learned against the railing. Her eyes twinkling as she watched his slight stumble. "Do you think you can make it the rest of the way, or should we call life alert?" She said with a nod towards the final flight of stairs. The Charming's loft was on the top floor of the building, but it seemed the fire escape extended up to the rooftop, which was apparently exactly where Emma would have them go.

"I don't know what that is. Though if I am right to assume it's a quip about my age," he said quirking his brow. "I'm sure you'll forgive me for being out of practice. It's been awhile since I've been required to take my leave from fair maidens' bed chambers through their windows."

"Yeah, yeah," Emma said. She shifted the cushion in her arms in order to lower the window. She stopped it from closing completely with a potted plant, brown and shrivelled, resting on the still. "Come on, Casanova," She said nudging him in the direction of the stairs with the soft bundle in her arms.

They climbed the remaining flight in silence, but unlike earlier it was comfortable. A light breeze toyed with the ends of Emma's hair, tangling them hopelessly. It was chilly, but not overly cold. The light was only just beginning to fade, so the dark metal of the fire escape still radiated a pleasant heat from its earlier exposure to the sun. At the apex of the metal contraption, Emma dropped the cushion onto the steel grating of the fire escape. Using her socked toes, she pressed it firmly against the brick exterior of the building.

"Sit," She commanded Killian with a nod towards the pillow as she unfolded the quilt. He raised his eyebrow in question, but complied. He rested his back against the red brick of the building and bent his legs at the knee so his boots rested just off of the cushion. He dared not incur Snow's wrath if he dirtied her furniture. Emma shot him an easy smile, her cheeks already rosy from the slight chill in the air before she threw the blanket over his shoulders. She settled between his legs, her back against his chest. There was a brief moment of awkward shuffling — knees to the ribs, elbows in faces, crumbling brick digging into spines, toes no longer covered by blankets — but soon enough they both found a comfortable position. His back resting against the cooling brick; hers against his chest, his legs on either side of her waist.

Emma's hands tangled with his underneath the blanket. When he heard the distinctive noise of styrofoam being opened, he smiled, knowing she'd reached her prize. She shifted against him, silently offering him one of Granny's deep fried morsels that she was so fond of. Killian normally preferred the version crafted from potatoes, but he'd gladly accept raw chimera were she offering it in the manner she was now. Playfully, he snapped at the offered onion ring, his teeth barely missing the tips of her fingers. His behaviour earned him a firm elbow to the ribs, but also a booming laugh from Emma, so he decided it was worth it. Her laughter slowly subsided and gave way to a contented sigh as she nestled more securely against his chest. Gods, he loved this. The easy, casual intimacy they had settled into since the return of his heart. He lived for these stolen moments when it felt like her walls were good and truly gone.

It was eerily quiet on their little perch above the world. The only noises that reached their ears were their own steady breathing, the crunch of Emma's onion rings, and an occasional rustle of the wind. Killian looked out onto the small parking lot below, where Emma's yellow vessel was moored, his confusion at their current situation growing by the moment.

"Far be it for me to complain," He said, tightening his arms around her waist, lest she think for a moment he wasn't relishing the feel of every inch of her pressed against him. "But it's a bit early for stargazing, yeah?" Though she didn't turn to face him, he swore he could feel her eyes roll powerfully at his comment, which caused a small smile to adorn his face.

"I come up here sometimes," Emma said after a minute. "Not as much as I used to, I used to come up here a lot. To be alone. To think…"

"Not as much to think on of late, Swan?"

"Something like that," She replied, abandoning the takeout container and twining her fingers with his. Her implication made Killian's smile grow until it threatened to crack his jaw in two. The idea that she'd spent anytime at all contemplating him filled him with a boyish sense of delight that he couldn't hide had he wanted to.

"As long as I can remember, I've always done this. Something would inevitably go wrong, because it always did," Emma said, her voice taking on that low and distant quality it always did when she spoke of her upbringing. Hearing her tone, Killian's smile faded and he gently strummed his thumb along the back of her hand. She twisted towards him, a small, thankful smile on her face, before she continued. "I would just run. Go until I found a quiet place, a place that was just for me you know? This was always my place in Storybrooke. If you look there, in the gap between those buildings," Emma continued with an authoritative nod against his shoulder. "You can see the sunset over the water."

Killian directed his gaze towards where she prompted and sure enough, he saw the calm sea of Storybrooke's harbour, the sun just threatening to dip beneath the horizon.

"I'm not great with words, but when you told me about your brother, I just, I wanted to show you that I get it. Not that my situation is the same as yours, I've never lost a sibling, I can't even begin to imagine—"

"Swan—"

"The whole thing's stupid," Emma rambled, her words jumbling together. This had felt like such a good idea in her kitchen, but trying to explain it now suddenly made her feel like an unbelievable idiot. "Obviously the view is nothing compared to what you've seen from your ship. I shouldn't have—"

"I can assure you, love," Killian said squeezing her hand tightly, the sheer depth of his emotions rendering his accent thicker than it normally was. "Beyond a shadow of a doubt, this the most perfect sunset I've ever experienced in my unnaturally long life."

"Charmer," Emma admonished, with a gentle poke to his ribs.

"I mean it, Emma," Killian continued, undeterred in his quest to let her know just how much he cherished every moment she shared with him. Every moment she choose to let him in. "Thank-you for sharing this with me."

Always more comfortable with actions than words, Emma placed a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw, before she settled against him once again. Soft tendrils of pink and orange danced across the cloudless sky as the setting sun skimmed the sea. But try as he might, Killian found he couldn't keep his eyes trained on the horizon for long. Inevitably, they drifted back to Emma. Her checks rosy, her golden hair like spun silk in the fading light. Unlike Emma, he'd never entertained the notion that he was the product of True Love, and this only served to act as proof. For he knew if he had even a sliver of magical ability, he would have used it to selfishly prolong this moment forever. To keep this contented, open Emma wrapped securely in his arms, a vision against the setting sun, until the end of time.

"Do you know what would make this even better?" Emma asked him after a moment.

"No, love," He replied truthfully. "What?"

"Rum," She replied, her request coming out in a blissful hum.

"You know," He chuckled softly, as he released her hand to pull his flask from his jacket. A task made difficult as Emma seemed unwilling to move even slightly away from him. Not that he minded. "Not long ago, you were not nearly as appreciative of my stash of rum."

"I've come around on a couple of things since then," she replied. Though he couldn't see her face, but he could easily envision the delightful twinkle he knew to be in her eyes.

"Aye, too right you have," Killian said, his arm snaking back around her to offer her the flask which she eagerly plucked from his hand. He rested his hand on her waist and swallowed thickly to clear the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. "You know this is all I need, right? It's more than enough, this life with you and your lad… I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"You wouldn't change anything?" Emma asked, as she fought back a low shiver at his words. His voice low and warm against the shell of her ear.

"Perhaps, should Henry and your schedule permit it," He said, the sheer amount of surprise in Emma's voice making his heart constrict painfully in his chest and further steeling his resolve to make sure she knew just what she meant to him. What they both meant to him. "We could spend some afternoons at sea. I'd enjoy teaching you both how to sail."

"I know I'm just a landlubber, but I'm pretty sure it's tough to sail without a ship," Emma sassed before she handed him back the flask.

"There's no shortage of vessels in this land, Swan," Killian said, accepting the rum but not taking a drink. "I doubt procuring one would prove to be a challenge."

"Killian—"

"Aye, I meant legally of course," he said with a resigned sigh. "I have coin—"

"In a perfect world," Emma interrupted. "If the Jolly Roger was magically down at the docks, you're telling me it would make no difference to you?"

Killian hesitated, finally understanding what she was getting at. His earlier concerns about Jorinde's plan and Emma's safety churned deep within his chest. His fingers toyed with the flask as he selected his next words with care. He'd rather not disrupt the enjoyable truce he and Emma had settled into, but he wouldn't, couldn't, pass up this opportunity to keep her from harm. Harm that would almost certainly befall them should they trust Jorinde. He'd been suspicious of Jorinde and her motives before, but after their exchange that morning he had no intention of letting her within a hundred miles of Emma. Not if he could help it.

"I made my choice long ago," Killian said carefully. "And I would make the same one again a thousand times over to get to you—"

"Seriously?" Emma said, with more than a little annoyance. She twisted out of his arms and faced him, a defiant glint in her eye. "Would you stop it with that? If we weren't going to go to the Enchanted Forest, why did we tell everyone? Why did we sit through that town meeting?"

"Aye, there is that," he said, the memory driving him to take a long drag from his flask, before he offered it back to Emma.

"Where's this coming from?" She asked, waving it off. "What's the problem?"

"Can't you feel it, Emma, in your bones? There's a change in the wind," he sighed heavily and shook his head as he returned the flask to his jacket. "Everything's about to change."

"Change isn't always a bad thing, Killian," Emma said, her features and tone both significantly softer. To underscore her point, she reached for him, his scruff rough beneath her palm, her thumb caressing the small scar on his cheek. Subtly reminding him that such closeness between them was still a relatively recent development.

"Aye, love, too right you are," He said sincerely. He smiled softly, before he pulled her back into his arms. Emma more than happily melted into his embrace. He had half a mind to tell her that these past few weeks of quiet shared with her had been the happiest of his life, but the air was only just thinning and he dared not press his luck. Emma had come so far from the Lost Girl he'd climbed a beanstalk with, but he knew better than to push her. Instead he tightened his arms around her waist and kissed her temple, his lips lingering.

He knew from the soft sigh Emma gave as she slouched down to rest her head against his shoulder that she felt she had won the exchange. Perhaps she had. The whole discussion was futile; he already knew he would follow her anywhere. To the end of the world, or time. Briefly he considered making one final attempt to convince her to stay, but he just couldn't bring himself to break the tranquility that had settled over them. Emma was about as stubborn as they came, and he doubted anything he could say would sway her opinion anyways. So instead they sat together quietly, tangled up in each other, the sun sinking lower and lower beneath the horizon.

"So, fill me in," Emma said, breaking the silence as she began tracing indistinct patterns above his knee with the tips of her fingers. "Who else is headed back to the Enchanted Forrest?"

"Might be simpler to list who's staying behind, love," Killian said, his brows furrowed. He rhymed off a long list of the townsfolk. True to his word, it did seem as if almost everyone was keen to journey back to their home realm.

"Belle?" Emma asked, noting her name was one of the few conspicuously absent from his list.

"No, actually, the Lady French is one of the few opting to remain here," Killian said quietly.

"Oh," Emma replied. The aimless movement of her fingertips on his jean clad leg ceased their journey and Killian felt her whole body tense against his.

"Out with it, Swan," He said with a gentle nudge of his nose against her cheek.

"Is she staying because of Gold?" Emma began cautiously, her gaze still fixed on the distant horizon. "Because he can't cross the town line back into Storybrooke?"

"She didn't say so in as many words, but aye, I imagine so," Killian replied. He and Belle had become quite close when they worked to free the Fairies and he couldn't help but to feel a pang of hurt for his friend. The Crocodile had hurt him, in more ways than one, but the wounds he had inflicted on Belle's heart had been another sort altogether.

"But, there's nothing stopping him from travelling to the Enchanted Forrest," Emma said, her voice flat as she filled in the details Killian had neglected to mention.

"Crossing realms is no easy feat, love," He reminded her.

"You've done it," Emma said quietly, her hand tightening its grip infinitesimally on his knee. "A couple times. And so did Neal, Greg and Tamara and Ingrid, Elsa, Anna, Kristoff. Hell, Mary Margret and I did it once by accident—"

"Hey," Killian said as shifted slightly and rotated Emma in his arms until he meet her gaze squarely. He gently tipped her face to meet his eyes, his thumb caressing the dimple of her chin. "Whatever happens, I won't let any harm come to you or your family. You have my word, Swan."

"You know you're a part of my family too right?" Emma asked softly. Her words echoed his own from that morning so closely that they quite literally knocked the air from his lungs. At a loss for words, his eyes darted between her own, his mouth slightly agape.

"Just how much of my conversation with Jorinde did you overhear this morning?" Killian asked when he finally found his voice again. He tried to infuse his tone with a touch of mirth. To keep the almost comical amount of hope he felt surging in his chest from creeping into his voice, as the prickling insecurity at the back of his mind screamed that Emma's words could have only been said in jest.

At his question, Emma faltered for a moment, her brows tightly furrowed. The sheer amount of confusion on her face left no doubt that her choice of words, while coincidental, were heartfelt. Cursing himself for not immediately seeing the sincerity in her eyes, he closed the space between them. He kissed her softly, throughly. His hand cupped her cheek reverently as he endeavoured to pour every ounce of emotion currently overwhelming him into his embrace.

"It's been a very long time since I've had a family," He confessed quietly, when they finally parted. He rested his forehead against hers and his thumb gently strummed along the apple of her cheek.

"Is that, is it okay? I mean—"

"Aye," He said quickly, capturing her lips in another soft kiss. "It's bloody brilliant, Swan."

In a feat of grace and agility he could scarcely comprehend, Emma was suddenly straddling him, her weight resting firmly on his thighs. She threaded her fingers through his hair as her lips found his again. The warmth of her body seeped through her sweater to his hand splayed between her shoulder blades. Unable to help himself, he wrapped his hooked arm tightly around her waist, drawing her closer to him. He could taste her smirk in her kiss as she captured the low groan she drew from him as she wantonly rocked against him.

"Mom?" A low voice called from Emma's bedroom window. The sound caused them to reluctantly pull apart. "The couch cushion's gone, are you up there?"

"Yeah, kid," Emma yelled back. She sighed heavily and hung her head, her blonde locks acting like a veil to obscure her features from Killian's eyes.

"Is the food from Granny's for us?" Henry called up again, his real purpose in seeking Emma out suddenly evident.

"Killian brought it," Emma said, rolling her eyes slightly at her son's insatiable appetite. "We'll be right down, Henry," She continued, though her weight remained firmly resting on Killian. She shot him an apologetic smile as she played with the lapels of his jacket.

"Grandma says don't forget to bring the cushion back in," Henry replied, his voice already fading, presumably as he headed back towards the kitchen. Or more accurately, to the food awaiting him in the kitchen.

"You know," Killian said, with a positively sinful smirk as he tucked her hair neatly behind her ear to better see her face. "If we opted to stay behind, there's a chance we may actually find ourselves with some uninterrupted time together."

"Mhmm," Emma replied, as she pretended to contemplate his comment. "But when we get your ship back," She said as she lowered her lips to his ear, her smooth cheek brushing against his stubbled one, her words hot against his skin. "You'll be able to show me every inch of it." She punctuated her comment with one last shameless drag of her hips against his own.

"Bloody hell, Emma," He groaned, dropping his hand to flex tightly on her hip. Her brazen teasing momentarily rendering him speechless enough that he forgot to correct the Jolly's pronoun from an it to a her.

Satisfied, that for once, she was the one who rendered him speechless, Emma untangled herself from Killian's embrace. She pulled the quilt off of his shoulders with a flourish and headed back towards the stairs.

"Don't forget the couch cushion," She called over her shoulder, her hips swaying only slightly more than was strictly necessary as she meandered back down to her bedroom window.

She would be the death of him, surely. Though as he scrambled down the stairs, cushion tucked securely under his arm, he found himself thinking that there was something appealing about death by Swan.

AN: I don't know what this chapter is. My muse wrote it without my permission and it's become the absolute bane of my existence! As well, I apologize that this is a short chapter, but I wanted to get it posted before I go on my vacation. I promise that: a) longer updates are coming b) longer updates are coming SOON c) that things are about to pick up, plot wise! Thanks again for reading and sticking with this story even though my writer's block has made updates few and far between! Your reviews and messages are unbelievably kind :)