AN: One of my Captain Swan Secret Valentine gifts for heavenlyswan on Tumblr. She asked for a story where Emma dislikes storms because of her experiences as a runaway. This was the result.

Stand in the Rain

It had become somewhat of a challenge to Emma, the determination she had to never let her fears get the better of her.

She had faced down dragons, survived evil queens and wicked witches. She had broken the town's curse with a kiss and outsmarted Peter Pan. All impressive feats. She would not, therefore, allow herself to be afraid of a little bit of water.

That's what she told herself, anyway. That it was just a bit of water, and rain had never killed anyone.

(Not that she had ever thought it would be the rain to kill her – it was what came with the rain, or what came after the rain. People could still die from lightning strikes, and pneumonia was a real thing, after all)

But part of her still cowered in fear any time she heard the thunder or saw a lightning strike. And she hated being wet. The way it soaked her clothes and ruined her hair and just sent chills through her. It was a weakness, one she was determined not to have.

So when she heard the rumblings as she ruminated over what to do about this new problem – Rumplestiltskin and the Queens of Darkness, sounded like a new age rock band – she set out to determinedly ignore it, in favor of staring out across the water of the harbor. When she felt the first drop hit her, large and cold and right on the back of the neck, she gave a full body shiver before she stiffened her spin, forced her arms to stay at her side rather than come up and hug her body, and steadfastly refused to move.

One drop became two, which became a downpour, soaking through her clothes. She pulled up her hood, though it was a half-hearted and wasted effort. She forced herself to sit in the downpour for exactly thirty seconds, and when a flash of lightning and another rumble of thunder made her jump and let out a little squeak, she made herself sit there for thirty more.

When she allowed herself to get up, to walk in the direction of the loft, she told herself that it was because sitting in the rain was stupid and just asking for illness she couldn't afford. She told herself that it was just being smart. It had nothing to do with the memories of cowering under what little shelter she could hide, or watching the sky with worried eyes, afraid that lightning would strike at any moment, and she'd be shit outta luck, because she had run away from another group home and had nowhere safe to go.

She didn't pick up her pace, when the time between the lightning and thunder was shorter than it had been. Because she didn't count it anymore. Not like she had when she was younger.

Flash. One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand fo – bang!

She kept her head down, arms wrapped around her body as she hurried toward home, and so it wasn't until she hit a hard form that she realized she wasn't alone on the sidewalk.

"There you are, Swan," the accented voice murmured. Arms wrapped around her, pulling her into warmth, and Emma let him, because she was working on intimacy, not because she felt safe in his arms. "Are you okay, Love? You look peaky."

"I'm fine," she replied, trying to smiling up into his blue, blue eyes. Then she yelped when the thunder banged, because she hadn't noticed the lightning that time. Hadn't expected it.

His hold on her tightened, and her hands came up, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Quite the storm," Killian murmured against his ear.

"Yeah," she agreed. "We should go. Get into the warmth."

His hand trailed down her arm, until he could tangle their fingers together. He looked down at their entangled fingers, the furrow between his brow not quite a frown, but definitely not a smile. She tried to catch his eye, to see if she could read what he was saying there, but then the lightning flashed again and she felt her spine stiffen. The thunder boomed, louder than before, and her fingers tightened around his, and she thought her hold must be painful, but couldn't stop it.

"Warmth," he said to her, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and she didn't know why.

She couldn't figure out why, not with rain hitting her and her eyes frantically searching the sky for the next sign of lightning. She let him tug her along, saying nothing until they were inside the apartment and shaking excess water from their clothes.

"Swan…" his voice trailed off when she began toward the steps to the loft, and he remained behind, staring out the door with a troubled expression.

"What's wrong, Killian?" she asked, able to think far more clearly, now that she was out of the rain, now that she was away from the storm and could remember that she was no longer a scared runaway searching for a safe place to take cover when safe places were in low supply.

"The storm… I've never known you to be afraid of anything."

Emma felt her spine stiffened, her fingers clench into fists.

"I'm not afraid of storms," she replied stiffly. Thunder boomed and she winced, and then nearly winced because of that show of weakness, and Killian just looked at her and raised a brow. Emma busied herself with her hair, trying to squeeze water out of it, because then she didn't have to look into his eyes that saw far too much. She saw him move toward her out of the corner of the eye, but continued to ignore him until he was right in front of her, gently tugging one hand away from her hair, and cradling the wrist of the other carefully with his Hook. Emma let him intertwine their fingers again, then clutched onto his Hook.

"You don't need to lie to me, Emma," he said to her, and she swallowed a lump in her throat at the use of her name. He only used it when it was important that she hear him. "Fear… it's what makes us human. We're all allowed fear."

"You just said you've never known me to be afraid of anything."

"Well, I haven't. I always knew there must be something, figured that someday I would find out, or you would tell me. Will you? Tell me?"

Emma refused to look at him, turning her gaze to the door where the rain beat against the window. She could hear rumbles of thunder and took the slightest step closer to him, He released her hand, wrapped his arm around her waist and simply held her.

"When I was younger, I'd run away a lot. I told you that. I was searching for home, and I'd never missed anywhere. But when you're a runaway… there aren't magical places to stay, Killian. Not for a teenager. We get reported to authorities if she try to use the shelters. So I had to stay outside."

"In storms," he murmured softly, and she felt him rest his chin on her head, closed her eyes as she let hers rest on his chest.

"In storms," she agreed. "And it's foolish, because I was never hurt. But you'd hear all these statistics. And I got sick a few times, and it just got to the point where I equated storms with cold and being sick, and then suddenly there was fear, I guess."

"Storms always meant risk of death," he offered in return, and Emma let her fingers trace the button of his shirt, listening to him speak. "Ships and storms don't mix. They were terrifying."

"You weren't afraid of the storm," she pointed out, somewhat dryly.

"Doesn't mean I have good memories of them." He pulled away from her, his serious expression replaced by a look of devilish delight. "You do know what we have to do, don't you?"

"Go upstairs and dry off?" Emma replied, thought she doubted it would be that simple.

"Now where's your sense of adventure, Swan?" he retorted, tugging on her hand, pulling her toward the door.

"I'm not going out there."

"Yes, you are," he replied.

"You can't make me."

"I dare you," he shot back, shooting her a challenging smirk over his shoulder. Emma rolled her eyes at that.

"Please, Killian. I'm thirty, not eleven. I'm not going to fall for that."

"I've never known you to be a coward, Swan."

Emma felt her body stiffen and that and scowled at him, because she wasn't a child, to be dared into doing something. And if he thought he could fool her into this –

Oh, God. She was a total eleven year old.

She stomped past him, shoving open the door and letting it fall closed behind her, nearly catching his hand. She knew it was childish, but so was this stupid dare.

"Happy?" she demanded, standing in the rain shivering with crossed arms.

"That's hardly a better memory, Swan," he drawled, catching her around the waist with his hooked arm, while his hand grabbed hers, pulling her body flush against his. She recognize the steps as soon as he began to lead her into them. The waltz from the Enchanted Forest, though this time he held her far closer.

"Seriously?" she demanded, trying to be exasperated with him, but finding herself strangely charmed.

"Seriously, Love," he replied, spinning her. When he took a knee in the center of the sidewalk, Emma couldn't feel quite so foolish about curtsying in return in her jeans. He grinned at her, pulling her into the steps once more, and she found herself smiling back.

When the lightning flashed, she hardly jumped. And when the thunder boomed, she was too busy laughing at his soaked knees to be frightened by it.

She didn't even realize that the rain was backing up, the lightning becoming rarer, the thunder more faint, until she heard a bird chirp. She paused in the dance, looking around. The clouds were still in the sky, but she could already see blue peaking between the grey, sunlight trying to dance down. Everything seemed more vibrant, healthier and more colorful after the rain. She looked around, wondering how she had never noticed that before.

Perhaps she was too busy being scared.

A breeze hit her, making her shiver, and she felt Killian drape his coat over her shoulders. It was a sweet gesture and she tugged it closer, but it was as soaked as she was.

"We're going to get sick," she told him.

"Not me," he replied, voice boastful. "Constitution of an ox, Swan."

"Well, Ox, I prefer not to tempt fate. So let's go in. You can borrow some of David's clothes."

"As you wish, Love," Killian replied, holding the door to the complex open for her. Emma smiled at him as she walked by him.

"Thank-you for the dance," she said to him, voice soft.

"My pleasure," he replied, smiling down into her eyes. "And if you get sick, I have an old pirate's concoction that will fix you right up."

"Let me guess – rum?"

"There may be some involved, but that's not the whole recipe. Grant me some knowledge, Swan."

Emma laughed in response, shaking her head, thinking that the memory of dancing in the rain had gone a long way to overshadow memories of being afraid and shivering. They weren't gone completely… but there would be more occasion to work on that, and she was sure Killian would make sure he was there for all of them.

And when he came down with the cold, she made him soup.

AN: And there it is – fluffy CS stuff.