When she saw him, she felt like crying.

His heart was in his hand. He'd ripped out his own heart, and it was glowing a brilliant red-gold, and he was about to make a terrible, terrible mistake. She didn't know how to stop him.

"Henry," Emma said, urgent, her own heart beating harder and harder. "I know what being a hero looks like, and this is not it."

He turned back to Pan, uncertain; she felt like a failure. Pan claimed that lying was what adults did and Emma felt her face crumple, because she knew how true that felt. She'd lived with that mentality for most of her life, and she'd not ever been an exception to that rule, not really. It didn't matter what her or anyone else's reasons were – she knew that from experience, and she remembered New York with a pang of fear.

"You have to trust us," Emma said, but she was losing him, she could see that. Telling him what he had to do wasn't the way to fix this. There was no way to force the reaction they wanted, no matter how they'd fought to get here. In a way, Pan was telling the truth – she was being selfish. She'd gladly trade all the magic in every realm to keep her son, to keep him honest and hopeful, the truest believer, the bravest hero she'd ever known.

All the magic in the world didn't matter, compared to him. And… Pan was right, that it was Henry's choice.

"We believe in you, Henry," Neal said.

"Because we love you," Emma told him, and hoped he saw, hoped he understood – he was the only one who had never left her, he was the only one who'd always believed, he was the one who gave her strength. Henry was the person she loved most, and she hadn't told him nearly enough.

"More than anything," Regina added.

"I love you too," he said, smiling back at them. Emma took a step forward, heart lifting – "but I have to save magic."

(She was no stranger to making the wrong choice. In the moment Henry gave his heart away, she understood him, maybe more than she ever had.)

He collapsed to the floor.

-xxx-

"You have your parents," Regina spat, minutes later. Despite her tone, she was kneeling beside Henry, not over him. Leaving space for Emma. "You have this – person, a pirate who pines for you, you have everything, and yet you claim to know what I feel? All I have is Henry, and I am not about to lose him because he is everything."

There was a lot Emma could have said to that. Any other day, and she would have – the thought of her having everything was laughable at best. The thought of Regina, the person who had taken so much from her and so many others, Henry included, complaining – but right now, Emma didn't care. Maybe, if Pan were standing in front of her she'd lose herself again, resort to stabbing at him with a sword like that'd solve anything, try to cut Henry's heart back out and return it where it belonged.

But he wasn't, and Regina had a point: none of them were willing to lose Henry today. Emma might not have everything, at least not to last, but she wasn't alone anymore and she didn't have any intention of starting again now.

So she agreed with Regina, soft and low, asked her what she wanted to do. Tried to hold onto that calm determination of earlier, that certainty of victory – it would at least be more useful than Regina's aimless rage, or Neal's doubt. She kept herself steady. Took a breath in.

"If we can hurt him, we can kill him," Regina said, cold and with a kind of vicious delight. "And we will."

Emma breathed out.

-xxx-

On the trip back to the main island, all of them were silent. Regina still looked that chilling breed of happily furious, Neal's face was terrified and already grieving. Emma didn't let herself slip into either extreme. She couldn't be like before, she found – that crystal-clear perception of what mattered, that complete confidence in her own abilities, that hadn't withstood Henry choosing Pan over her. Emma didn't know what the hell she was doing. She might be a Savior, but she was far more a Lost Girl, a girl who'd lost all she ever had and couldn't ever stop believing she'd lose everything she gained.

But that didn't stop her from wanting to keep it. In fact, that certainty she'd end up alone only made her want a family all the more. It wasn't hope, not exactly. If she had to pick a word, Emma would call it longing, something desperate and wild, impossible to tame. All her life she'd longed for a family. She'd spent years chasing down the people who broke their own, punishing them for taking such a precious thing for granted. She'd resented them all – but the moment Henry claimed her as his own, Emma couldn't leave. She'd tried, but it hadn't done any good, not when what she wanted more than anything was to stay. Just like her struggle on this island, trying to shove Killian away when she really just wanted to pull him close.

She stopped Regina from torturing the Lost Boys. Looked straight at Snow, and thought maybe being an orphan, maybe because she was and always would be Lost, maybe that was what would give her a chance at this.

"They don't respond to reason," Regina hissed. "What else do you have to offer?"

It wasn't about reason. If it had been, Henry would have waited to hear them out. But his childhood had been as isolated as Emma's, just in a different way. Leaving him with Pan even a little bit longer had been a mistake, because what she'd forgotten was that Henry, for all his optimism, had grown up a Lost Boy too. He didn't advertise it, but Pan had seen it in him, had pulled on all of that latent anger and desperation to prove your worth.

"What every kid wants," Emma said, and smiled sadly at Snow. "A mother."

Neverland seemed deliberately designed to pry at the parts of you that hurt most, to bare them open and aching to the air. Doing so now didn't hurt any less than any of the other times she'd been forced to admit a painful truth since landing here, but it was worth the sting, the weight of everyone's gaze on her back. Getting Henry back mattered far more.

"For a long time," Emma told the Lost Boys, "I thought I was never gonna find my family. I was an orphan. Like all of you. A Lost Girl. And I was reminded today that I am not alone, that I have a lot of people that love me. And I never thought that could happen."

(She still didn't. Not to keep.)

(But she wanted it so badly she didn't care anymore, it didn't matter, and she knew the Lost Boys would understand that.)

"If that can happen to me, it can happen to you."

What she was doing was cruel, in a way. She knew exactly which buttons to press, the same as Pan. They're liars. They don't care. Not like I do. I can give you a place to belong.

The only difference between the two of them was that Emma meant it. Maybe Pan recognized Lost Boys but he wasn't one of them. He just used them for his own gain, but Emma understood these kids completely and she hated herself for thinking of them as the enemy all this time. They were victims, just like any kid she'd ever met who'd been taken in by an abusive home. Just like she had been.

"Swear that you'll take us with you," the little Lost Boy said.

She promised; smiled through sudden tears.

-xxx-

Emma wanted Neal to stay behind for a lot of reasons. She needed Regina, with her knowledge of magic, but she didn't want her son to be alone. Neal wouldn't let anything hurt him, and he knew the Lost Boys, he knew Tinkerbell, he made sense as the one to begin organizing that trip.

All the same logic would have held true for leaving Killian behind. The only difference was that he wasn't Henry's father – and that Emma wanted him by her side. She'd fought with him before, she trusted his guidance, and… and she was selfish. She'd been owning up to all sorts of secrets today: here were a few more. She didn't want to be alone either. She wanted to walk side by side and hold his hook, or maybe his hand this time, and feel the warmth of his shoulder bumping against hers, she wanted him to believe in her and make her feel strong. She wanted to kiss him in the bushes after they saved Henry. She didn't want to keep wanting, she wanted to have, for however brief.

But then Snow spoke up. And – the time they had left together was so short, and there were so many things Emma had never told her, so many things she never would now. She changed her plans, followed behind Killian instead and Snow walked by her side. Snow gripped her hand so tight the bones ached, and it made Emma think maybe her mother understood something about longing too, for more than just a new start.

But longing could make you stupid too, and Snow reached for Pandora's Box even when Killian and Regina both told her it was a trap, and a moment later all of them had been strung up by vines, cramped together against the bark of the tree behind them.

"Are you still at it?" Pan strolled past them and picked up Emma's sword. "Don't you know? Peter Pan never fails."

"Taking tricks from the crocodile now?" Killian spat. Beyond the seething anger in his voice, there was an edge of… almost panic. Emma turned her head slightly to look at him, and saw him struggling viciously against the vines, muscles straining.

Pan blinked at him – then laughed, gleeful and sinister in equal amounts.

"I rather think it's the other way around, pirate," he said with vicious emphasis. "But I could be persuaded to match up even more…"

"No–"

"After all," he went on, raising his voice over Killian's hoarse protest, and addressing Emma and Regina now: "I know how mothers are. Quite tenacious about your offspring. Believe it or not, I understand that. But if you're looking to see Henry again I have to tell you there's only one place you'll be reunited… in death."

Regina jerked together with Killian this time, both of them grunting with effort to either side of Emma. The vines barely moved.

"Having trouble moving? Not a surprise, given where you are. You see, what's hastening your demise… is your regret." Pan spoke with a kind of smug, confident tension. He kept moving, closer then further away, waving Emma's sword around to punctuate his words. He seemed not entirely present – maybe they could use that, somehow.

"What do you mean?"

"This tree is the site of a very important event for me…" Pan stared up at the tree, smiled. "I abandoned my boy here."

That smile said it all. Emma still tried, but she wasn't surprised that Pan rejected the idea of regret completely. Even the news that Rumplestiltskin was his son didn't phase her as much – she was too stuck on that little smirk. He'd been reliving a fond memory, gazing up at the tree. He'd chosen this place to seek refuge when he was vulnerable, the site of such a terrible crime was his safe haven.

Pan was a monster.

Worse, he was a user. He was just like his son, in all the worst ways: he manipulated people, he strung them along by promising them what they wanted most. But he took it a step further, because he preyed on children, he intentionally went after kids who already felt abandoned and lied to them, made all their worst fears come true and tricked them into thanking him for it.

None of those Lost Boys had a family anymore. They'd been here too long. But it might not have been too late for them, once. Emma had seen how Pan got into Henry's head, and he was the most determined, optimistic kid she'd ever known. Someone even a little bit like she had been at that age would be easy pickings. That was why Pan went for them.

Killian stayed quiet throughout the revelation as well. He didn't say a word, even when Pan admitted his temporary weakness, and Emma cast him a quick glance. His face was very pale, jaw tight. Just to her left, she could see his fist clenching spasmodically. Every few moments, he gave another little jerk against the vines. Something was seriously wrong with him, and she didn't know why but Emma didn't have time to feel more than just an instant of concern before Pan threatened her son again and her temper snapped.

She flung herself forward, and for a second she actually moved – but the vines snapped back all the tighter, slamming her back against the rough bark and driving the air out of her lungs. She could hear Regina and Snow grunting in pain as the vines squeezed tighter around them all. Killian didn't make a sound, which was… really worrying, shit. She had to stop just reacting. That was what Pan wanted, that was what he did.

"There has to be another way," Emma said. She wasn't really speaking to anyone but herself, trying to marshal up some of that missing conviction. She'd thought being a Lost Girl might work, but it was clear now that would only ever make a difference to his victims, not Pan himself. So she tried to reach down within herself and find that tiny fire, to use that spark of magic to protect her son, but no matter how she tried she couldn't feel anything. It wasn't just a lack of power – it was a loss, somehow. A hollow space.

"No, you're not going to get to me," Pan said, stepping in close and smiling cruelly. "Y'see this tree attacks the regret inside anyone who comes here – in you. You've got plenty."

"I regret not taking a better shot at you when I had a chance."

(But her heart was sinking. Of course she had plenty of regrets. Her short temper, her inability to trust and hope and be the Savior everyone wanted. Ever falling in love with Neal, even thinking that because everything else aside it brought her Henry – her relationship with her mother starting to sour, as if all the years apart used it up. Her inability to save David. Pushing Killian away so long, but also, in a scared and scarred little piece of her heart, making the decision to let him in… and of course, of course–)

"That's not all, is it, Savior? No." Pan's voice was low, a quiet whisper with a hint of a tremble. "I can feel how much you let him down, time and time again."

(Henry.)

"Leave her alone."

"He's lying."

Killian and Snow spoke simultaneously. Emma couldn't see her mother's expression around the curve of the trunk, but her voice was colder than she'd ever heard it. Loud, defiant, and deadly. The voice of a pissed-off warrior queen, as arresting as it was startling.

Killian's wasn't, it was warm and quiet and just for Emma's ears. His hand scrabbled next to her, grabbing for hers but not quite able to reach; their fingers brushed and he met her eyes, shook his head firmly.

(Pan manipulates, Emma told herself, tried really fucking hard to tell herself, Killian's right, he has no idea what's in Henry's heart, he's got to be lying.)

(She'd always been such a shitty liar when it came to herself. Why did she keep trying?)

The vines creaked tighter around her ribs, and Pan moved on.

"Oh, you know I don't lie," he grinned, getting even closer up in Killian's face than he had Emma's. "Not really. After all, isn't that one of your biggest regrets – not listening to me when we met? It's hard to choose, though, you're positively drowning in them, Captain. What about Milah? Bae? You've done far worse than simply letting them down."

"I told you to stop," Snow said, voice even colder than before. Emma stared straight ahead, trying so hard not to believe everything Pan was saying. Of course she'd let Henry down. Yes, but not like that, not – she'd never meant to –

(Saying sorry doesn't take back what you did.)

"Look at you," Pan drawled, turning to Snow. "All high and mighty. Did you ever think the reason your daughter is such a failure could be you? After all, the example you set – abandoning her for twenty-eight years–"

"Are you finished?" Regina interrupted. Emma stared straight ahead, swallowed hard, tried her damnedest to shake away the guilt and think.

Snow had never abandoned her. She knew it, her mother knew, everyone knew – it may have felt that way, but Emma knew her parents had done all they could to save her life. It had been a terrible situation and they hadn't had much choice, and it hadn't turned out well, but they'd done the best they could. Pan was lying. Or at least – twisting. He was telling them everything they least wanted to hear, those dark thoughts lurking in the back of their heads, and something about this place made Emma feel so accepting of them as fact. But they weren't. Not the way he was telling them, at the very least, not completely. If she could remember that, if she could just convince herself enough to shed this fucking island's influence, maybe she'd be able to pull free –

"Last words from the queen?" Pan strolled back to her right, and Emma tried to ignore him, told herself he's lying he's lying but it didn't make a difference. Even if she could recognize what was happening, even if she told herself it was magic, or her insecurities talking… she still felt like she was making excuses. Maybe Snow's greatest regret made no factual sense, but hers weren't all so cut-and-dry. And even then, Snow wasn't getting out of these vines either. Captain Hook had done enough wrong that it made sense for him to be pressed flat back against the bark, pale and panting unsteadily through his teeth (god she was scared for him) but if even Snow White couldn't break free then Emma herself, who fell far closer to Killian on any sort of scale, didn't stand a chance. Even if she had she wouldn't believe it, would never be able to internalize something like 'I'm blameless' in a matter of minutes when she knew better. Not even with Regina's litany of far worse crimes spoken right next to her.

And then.

"I should be overflowing with regret… but I'm not." Regina stepped easily away from the tree. She shook the suddenly-brittle vines off her arms, and everyone else was released too. Emma stared down at herself, still feeling phantom pressure against her chest and ribs. She looked up at Regina in shock as –

"Because it got me my son," she snarled, and ripped his heart out with a terrifying, vicious joy. Pan fell to his knees, but Emma's gaze remained locked on Regina's smile, a horrible feeling coming over her. She remembered Killian's sword held steady.

(Remembered how recently Regina had been willing to murder the whole town to take Henry all for herself.)

"Now," said the woman who didn't regret a single thing she'd done to get to this point: "let's go save Henry."

-xxx-

She didn't talk on the way back to the ship. They left Pan crumpled on the ground and set off immediately. Emma didn't know what she would even say, or to who. Regina was riding high, clutching Pandora's Box in one hand, and Henry's heart in the other – full of hope and conviction. It wouldn't help anything to confront her now, and she wasn't even sure what she could say if she tried.

When you saved our son's heart, I realized I will never be able to trust you. You're not a good person. It was mean, stupid, and – most of all – counterproductive. Speaking up would just put them at odds again, it wouldn't make the woman change. She should've already known that. Emma had known what Regina was like, but somehow she'd almost forgotten in the rush to rescue Henry. She could acknowledge that the Evil Queen wanted to change… but Pan's tree had shown the limits of that desire. She didn't care about what she'd done to other people so long as it got her to Henry, and Emma couldn't hate her for that, not when it was going to save his life – but she couldn't ever relax around her again, either. Killian'd had the right of it.

(He'd been right about a lot of things.)

She still felt worried for him, and didn't know how to express it. This wasn't like – god, was it only a few hours ago? Back then Emma had recognized what he was dealing with, and even his suppressed rage was incredibly familiar; it'd felt awkward at first but in the end providing comfort had been easy. It'd been as much for her own benefit as his, had slipped into some kind of gentle flirtation. This… wasn't that. He was walking in much the same way, tense all over, but if before he'd been a taut rope, right now he was frayed to the point of snapping. He still looked pale, halfway back to shore, and Emma hadn't missed the way his hand was clutching his opposite wrist. She didn't know what was wrong exactly, but she could make an educated guess. Taking tricks from the crocodile, there wasn't much else that could possibly mean.

Emma had no idea how to help him, only knew that drawing attention to it now wouldn't be any help at all. She'd have to find a moment alone, somehow – and she still had to tell him about the decision she'd made. It was a stupid thing to feel scared about, after everything else that had just happened – she knew he wouldn't reject her. And maybe it wasn't the right timing now, when he was still suffering those aftershocks, but she wouldn't feel right holding off. He deserved to know now, and obviously she alone wouldn't be able to fix how he felt but she knew that having someone who genuinely cared for you helped, regardless of anything else.

Maybe she could have spoken to Snow – no, Emma definitely could have spoken to her mother. But once again, resentment and shame held her words captive, caught them low in her throat and left her with nothing more than a thick, choking ache. She wanted things to be better. She truly did. Snow was a fantastic person – moral, strongwilled and stronghearted, full of conviction and compassion, loving and hopeful. If Emma had grown up with her as a mother, she was sure she'd think Snow's wisdom unparalleled, look at her with stars in her eyes still. And… maybe she was anyway, a little bit.

They'd just lived such different lives, Emma knew her mother's way was better but a lot of the time that didn't make it right, certainly didn't mean her own experiences and feelings were any less valuable. She still wanted her mother desperately, like a lost little child – and Snow wanted her child too, wanted a baby to raise and protect and Emma just wasn't it. They both knew it. And Emma understood, after Skull Rock, how it felt to have a kid you'd lost for so long, that was old enough to oppose you, to make choices you knew were wrong. But she also knew that Snow didn't get to fix that for her, didn't get to fix her at all. It wasn't like with Henry, who was good to the core despite his history – Emma was muddied. Maybe if Snow started over, it would really be better for both of them. It didn't have to be giving up, didn't have to mean she didn't love Emma, just… there was nothing she could do.

Every time she tried to think about Snow after that secret, she just wound back up at that same place again. Heavy, a disappointed disappointment, a weary sort of angry resignation. She didn't know how to explain it, didn't want to hurt her mother by telling her in the first place, and mostly didn't want to feel it at all. They'd just saved Henry, almost as good as anyway. She ought to be happy, ought to be stomping eagerly forward like Regina.

Instead, Emma lurked at the back of the group. Looked down at the ground, tried to stop thinking about Henry saying I have to save magic.

-xxx-

Neal had laid him out across a raised section of the deck. He looked dead – cheeks white, chest still. It reminded Emma of when he'd eaten that turnover, when he'd died for her once already. She'd saved him then, she'd been able to throw everything else away and believe then. She could do it again.

Clutching his (limp, cool) hand between both her own, Emma bit her lip and looked over at the golden heart beating in Regina's hand. It wasn't up to her this time, but if there was any way – she couldn't close her eyes, couldn't look away, but she didn't need to with her focus right in front of her. She thought of that little candle, raised it in an instant to a crackling fire in her chest, an overwhelming, spine-tingling rush of love-turned-magic poured entirely into believing this is going to work.

The heart went in. He didn't move, didn't breathe.

"Henry," Emma murmured; held tighter, believed harder. It was a conscious action, at once the hardest and easiest thing she'd ever done – he was going to be fine, in just a moment, just one more –

We're too late flickered into her head, but she shoved it out viciously. No. No, maybe it was all in her head but if there was the slimmest chance that whatever Savior magic she wielded could save Henry then she would make damn sure it did and that meant not wavering for a second –

"Henry," Regina pleaded, clutched at his arm: "Honey-"

He gasped.

He breathed, and he opened his eyes, he sat straight up into a clutching hug and Emma closed her eyes tight, lost herself entirely in the moment.

"I'm sorry," were the first words out of his mouth, "I – I wanted to save magic."

"It's okay, it's okay…"

"I wanted to be a hero."

(This was the kid who'd already died once to save her. Didn't give up even when everyone he'd ever met called him crazy for it, believed and hoped and fought to keep both alive, found her and saved her and given her a home. Her son.)

(Another Lost Boy, trying so hard to prove himself.)

-xxx-

Emma let Regina take him to the captain's cabin, tuck him in. Contented herself with stroking his hair outside the door, kissing his head and telling him she loved him once again. She'd need to do more. So much more, she needed to explain to him just exactly how much he was already a hero, hers. She needed him to never do anything like this again. Never to feel the need.

For now, she needed space. It sounded stupid – she'd just spent a week trying to reunite with him – but she was far too muddled and anguished to talk to him right now. The last thing Emma wanted was to make him feel like he'd done wrong, but she didn't think she'd be able to stop herself right now. She knew – you can't smother a kid like that. No matter how much you want to, no matter how well-meaning.

So she let Regina tuck him in. The woman needed it as much as he did, anyway. Emma hovered at the door for only a moment, turning away without eavesdropping… and stopped, when she saw Neal standing just ahead, holding Pandora's Box in his hands.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked, very quietly.

She needed to. She did, but –

"About what."

He shifted on the spot, glancing behind him to where everyone else stood a little distance away. Hesitated, then took a deep breath and squared forward to face her head-on.

"I'm sorry. I – I know you don't want to hear it, but it's true, Emma. You were right, I decided for you, I l-left you, I…" he swallowed, finished low and sad and honest: "I didn't treat you right."

"No, you didn't," Emma agreed. Tried to be matter-of-fact about it, tried not to show how momentous this admission felt. She'd never… for so many years she'd blamed herself for all of it, and even when she knew better she'd still felt like she did something wrong. Blamed herself for falling for his lies, for still believing he'd loved her when all evidence pointed to the contrary. Finding out that he was Rumplestiltskin's son was only the icing on top, being unable to blame him or even acknowledge what had happened for fear of someone finding out, Henry hating her for ever lying about him, her parents pushing her to admit some fictitious jealousy…

"I meant to – when I survived going through that portal, I decided to fix things," Neal told her. "I promised myself that I was gonna treat you right. You were always it for me, even when I met Tam- I mean." He stumbled to a halt, cleared his throat roughly. "I thought I'd left my soulmate behind for ten years. And I was okay with that if it meant you'd be with your family, but – I thought, after. I was a jerk when you found me because I thought I'd never see you again and I thought I loved – "

He choked up a little, grit his jaw and shook his head, and Emma abruptly remembered something awful.

"Neal…" she said, soft.

"Wait. Let me, just…" he shook his head again. "I'm all messed up. After the portal, I thought it was a sign that – but then you told me it was Hook, of all people. And I wanted to support you, I really did. It's the least I can do, after how I treated you, but. I thought – this is so stupid – I thought I was gonna come back and finally be with my soulmate."

Her anger couldn't hold up. It never could, with him, but this time she felt like maybe it wasn't giving in to let it go. She reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Neal," Emma said again. "I don't think you just thought you loved Tamara."

His face spasmed; she held on tighter, spoke ever softer, as gentle as she could make it.

"I know what it feels like when someone you love betrays you. When you… I went to Tallahassee. Stayed there for two years." She didn't know how to make it not a guilt-trip, but it was the only way to express what she was thinking: "I knew you weren't gonna be there. But I… I get it, clinging onto something. I get it."

"God, I'm sorry."

"That's not the – don't, okay. I – I need to tell you something too." She took a deep breath. "Neal, Tamara's dead. Tinkerbell showed us her watch, she said Pan killed them…"

She trailed off; he was shaking his head, smiling a little.

"I know," Neal said, and if she'd had doubt about her realization that he was still caught up in grieving for his fiancé, his tone of voice put an end to it. "He wouldn't let them live. There was no way."

They both fell silent. It should've been awkward, but in a weird way, the air felt cleared between them. This time, he wasn't making promises he'd break later. He wasn't just blindly apologizing, either – for the first time, Neal seemed to really have thought about what he'd done. That didn't mean he was going to be a hundred percent better, but at least they understood where they were both coming from. It wasn't the completely supportive friendship Emma had wanted, after the Echo Cave, but it was more realistic, more stable.

"I'm going to let him out, now." He lifted the box in his hand, waggled it gently. "Can you… be there?"

Emma nodded.

"I'm going to talk with him, after," she said. Clarified, spoke his name for the first time aloud: "Killian."

"Killian," Neal scoffed, but he looked more thoughtful than anything else. "So you're going for it. Good luck, with the soulmate thing."

"Thanks," Emma said, and they walked back to her parents together.

(Thought, the soulmate thing. Compared it to until I met you, to I will win it, to every single time Killian had tried to earn her affection by baring himself open and waiting for her to respond in kind. Remembered the way Neal's eyes had lit up when she'd shown him her wrist so long ago, the way he'd suddenly been all in, and couldn't help a shudder.)

She'd never been just a person to him. She'd been something to have. Killian – to all indications, he didn't think that way at all. He didn't want to have her, he wanted to be with her. And that made all the difference.

Because she wanted to be with him, too.

-xxx-

Standing before the mast with David, watching Snow care for the Lost Boys, Emma's heart was beating fast. Her father called her the most important piece of the puzzle, called her their leader, and… it meant a lot. She'd obviously had no idea what she was doing, had felt like a failure nine times out of ten, but David reminded her that, in the end, she'd pulled it off. She'd somehow kept them all together when it counted most, had been able to accomplish the mission. Henry was safe, Neal was alive and back and they'd reconciled more than she'd ever have thought possible. Regina had come back to their side, at the least. Rumplestiltskin too – they still bore watching, but for the moment neither seemed up to anything. The Lost Boys had been freed, Tinkerbell too, David wasn't going to die and Snow wasn't going to stay with him forever. It felt foreign to even think it, but… they really had won.

"I'm just glad that we were all able to work together and get Henry home. Get all of us home."

David reached out and patted her back reassuringly. Snow noticed their eyes on her and smiled warmly up at them both. Emma took a deep breath.

"There's just… one more thing I have to do."

He frowned down at her in a wordless query. She tried to smile back; felt it trembling.

"Can you steer for a little while?"

-xxx-

Since Henry hadn't rested long at all before heading back up to the deck, the captain's quarters were empty. More importantly, there was a door she could lock behind them, which Emma couldn't say for certain about pretty much anywhere else on the ship.

The bolt sliding shut sounded so loud.

When she turned around after, Killian was standing in the middle of the room, watching her in complete silence. His face was calm, his eyes wary. He looked… startlingly handsome, the low moonlight from the window and gas lamp on the desk casting him in a distinctly romantic light. Not that he needed the help, but – it made all of this feel unreal, somehow. Something out of a book.

Emma plowed on, before that thought could catch and hold, drag her into doubts about where she belonged and didn't. She strode closer, until she stood right in front of him, until the space between them hummed with tension, close enough to simply lean up and kiss him.

She could hear him breathing shallowly.

"Are you okay?"

Killian's breath caught; he cleared his throat, swallowed and shook his head just a little.

"With us locked in my bunk? More than," he tried. Grinned down at her, tried to make his voice go teasing and light.

"Slow down, pirate," she said softly. "I mean it. Pan was… pretty brutal, back there."

His grin twitched away, his eyes dimmed.

"Aye, he was," Killian shrugged, and reached up to scratch at the back of his neck, glancing away. Laughed a little. He obviously wasn't okay at all. "But it's nothing I can't handle. You don't need to worry about me, love."

"But I am. He was talking about Milah and Bae." Emma swallowed, unsure as always how to continue – she didn't know what was okay for her to mention, didn't know how far she could push. "And you looked…"

He took a sharp breath in when she reached out to touch him, and Emma almost pulled back – but only paused. Her fingers met his, just a light touch. But warm, intimate, sending sparks down her arm and heat flushing into her cheeks. His eyes went wide, locked down.

"Swan," he rasped, and it sounded like a warning but at the same time his fingers curled, tangling into hers, bringing more and more of their hands together.

"You don't have to talk about it," she assured him, waiting until he looked back up before she continued: "but if you ever want to, I'm here."

There was a prickling energy building inside of her. Everything else was fading away, but everything about him remained crystal clear: the messy strands of dark hair falling across his forehead, his wide blue eyes, the almost frightened look in them as he darted a glance down to her lips before looking away.

"…A kind offer, but are you sure you mean it?" Killian asked. "You've got your lad back now, the mission's over."

The sudden lack of confidence was unsettling; it didn't really surprise her that he'd be thinking like that, because she would too, but to speak it aloud. To try and push her away when she was finally reaching back to him. That wasn't like him.

(Trapped in Pandora's Box wasn't enough - Pan deserved to rot in hell.)

"You're not planning on leaving town, are you?"

"No," he said, with a bemused little shake of his head. Seemed to find himself a little when he met her eyes and promised: "There's no realm I'd rather be."

"Good," Emma said. Expected to feel terrified again, to feel nervous at least, but it wasn't there. Nothing was but a powerful warmth, an overwhelming sort of contentment that should have stood at odds with the sparks in her belly and the worry she still felt – but it didn't. "Because I've made my choice."

"Have you?" he murmured. Slowly, his grip on her hand tightened, as slowly, he began to smile. His eyes were bright, intently focused; there was a red flush on his cheeks. "And, you're here with me…"

It was like he'd pulled the words right out of her head, echoing her thoughts almost directly. It was another of those moments – somehow, he always found the right words to strike at the very heart of her, to leave maximum impact.

"Yeah," Emma agreed, dizzily, feeling all too warm where he was touching her, craving far more. "I'm here with you."

The smile that spread across his face was so pure. It lanced right into Emma's heart, stung, filled her with a giddy sort of awe at provoking such complete happiness. She didn't need his grip on her hand tugging her forward; she was already moving, unable to do anything else.

Their lips met in a moment, and everything else washed away. It was different, from all the ones before. The first time had been passionate, the second right after a little desperate. The third time was so gentle. In all, she'd kissed him first and he'd taken whatever she offered, like a gift. When he'd touched her back, her cheek, he'd been feather-light.

This time they moved together. His left arm swung around behind her with enough force to pull her in, and she closed the remaining distance without thought, free hand already reaching behind his head to tug him down. He kissed her back, made this little whining noise when she gripped into his hair and pressed herself against him, rocking back a little from the force. They kissed each other so – she couldn't possibly think of words for this. It was overwhelming, rushing through her veins.

He still held her hand, held it tight and warm and Emma felt overflowing, drowning in him, surrounded and filled and still longing for more. Everything about this was different, every – for all the heat, there was equal tenderness. There was a confidence to this, shown when they slowed but didn't stop, when they stayed together and let their lips move softly, gently. This wasn't tentative, was no longer a once-and-only. This was something Emma already desperately wanted to last.

"Emma," he sighed so softly, sounding so – god, so in love.

"Killian," she breathed, equally soft.

(Kissed him again rather than think about what that meant.)

I'll keep this fairly brief but a few thoughts:

1) Why was no one from Neverland at the tree? It makes no sense logistically, that was all chosen for showdown purposes/mothers emphasis. I made the choice to bring Killian in on that a while ago, but it was actually that scene which had me stuck for a long time because it... would definitely be very very hard for him.

2) Neal was never told about Tamara in the show and that always bothered the hell outta me. Everyone moved right along to pushing him and Emma together and never acknowledged his fiance who tried to kill him and who they then received proof was murdered. I do believe at least part of him latching onto Emma so hard was in reaction to grief about her loss.

3) I've been waiting a very long time to get to that last scene. Hope you all enjoyed - but fair warning, this is not the end (and that means more angst is definitely to come).