This was originally supposed to be a one shot, a little something to get me through the hiatus. My take on what I kind of want to happen post "Retrieving Hook from the Underworld" and dealing with the consequences. I got to the end and realized…there's more I want to tell. So, this will be a short multi chapter story. Rating may change.

Killian didn't remember much about the return trip from the Underworld. All he knew at that point was exhaustion; the kind of exhaustion that bordered on feeling and acting like a drunk. He vaguely recalled being guided along with his eyes closed. At one point he sank to his knees, content to just sleep on the concrete. After all, he'd managed rest in worse places. But those damn hands hefted him to his feet and soft voices urged him on.

"You're in the middle of the road," one of the voices, he wasn't sure who's, spoke gently. "You don't want to get hit by a car…"

Another voice chimed in with, "Just a bit longer and you can sleep all you want."

After what seemed like an eternity, he was finally deposited on a soft surface. The murmuring voices continued for a few more minutes and then there was silence. His brain barely had time to register that he must have been returned to his room at Granny's and left alone before the battle to stay conscious was lost and sleep finally pulled him under.

Sometime later, Killian awoke, groggy and disoriented. It took him a moment to realize in the dim light that he wasn't at Granny's. The thought of being in an unfamiliar place was unsettling in his current state. He wanted to push himself up, to move, to figure out where he was and be ready to defend himself need be but his instincts were dulled and muted and he lay frozen, heart hammering in his chest. The pace of his breathing picked up and he felt like he was being strangled. He was having a panic attack. Killian Jones, the feared Captain Hook, the man who'd spent centuries traveling the realms and taking as he pleased, was having a God damned panic attack.

"Killian?" a voice spoke up from somewhere in the room.

Somehow, he managed to disentangle himself from the blanket he'd become wrapped in and struggled to sit up, breathing in fast and heavy gulps. Suddenly a pair of soft hands were cupping his face and Emma's form swam into view.

"Breathe," Emma urged. "I'm here…just breathe. Nice, easy breaths."

He locked eyes with her, and she with him. Her hands stayed on his cheeks as she spoke softly, encouraging him to focus on her voice and breathe. Eventually his breathing evened out, and suddenly exhausted again, Killian found himself with his head resting on Emma's chest.

"It's ok," she murmured softly as she ran her fingers through his hair trying to comfort him. "I'm here…"

She wasn't sure how long they sat like that, but eventually Killian moved back, his breathing fairly normalized, watching her, and she slid down the bed away from him in an attempt to give them both space. Despite the fact that she had brought him back from a fate worse than death, despite the moment of closeness they had just shared, there was still the lingering feeling of guilt Emma carried. If it wasn't for her actions, Killian never would have sacrificed himself to save the town and endured the torment of life in the Underworld. The nervous energy set in and she got to her feet and started wringing her hands together as she pretended to be interested in an invisible spot on the carpet.

Killian suddenly realized where he was. He was in Emma's house, the house they were supposed to share, in the bedroom that was supposed to be theirs. He scratched nervously behind his ear, unsure of what to say or do.

"I suppose…I should head back to Granny's," he sighed heavily, letting his eyes close momentarily. He didn't relish the thought of walking back to the Inn. "I feel as if I have about a year's worth of dirt covering me and I could do with a shower."

Emma's head snapped up and something akin to hope flashed in her eyes. "You're more than welcome to use the bathroom here. I know you're still pretty tired. Then I could give you a ride back…to your room."

"I'm afraid I don't have any other clothing—"

"Top drawer," she interrupted, nodding toward the dresser as she shifted her weight and dropped her gaze back to the floor.

"If the lady insists," Killian replied, clearing his throat a bit, again reaching up to his ear.

"Bathroom is down the hall, second door on the right," Emma said softly. She lingered in the doorway for a moment longer before leaving Killian to tend to business and disappearing to somewhere else in the house.

Sighing again, Killian pulled himself from the bed, suddenly realizing just how stiff and aching his muscles were. He made his way to the dresser, opening the drawer and was surprised to find various articles of men's clothing inside. He grabbed an undershirt and a pair of cloth pants, something he remembered Emma referring to as "sweats" before making his way down the hall.

He may have lingered in the shower longer than he meant to. The warm water not only washed away the layer of filth covering his body, but eased some of the thoughts on his mind at well. He also may have used a little more of Emma's shampoo than necessary. Killian tried to justify it by telling himself it was the only way to get the sod out of his hair. In reality, he'd hoped that maybe the more he used, the longer the scent would stick with him and he'd have something to remember her by. Finally satisfied that he was clean, Killian dried himself, tugged on the clothes and made his way out into the hall.

He sniffed the air, the scent of something delicious wafting through the house. His stomach rumbled in response and he realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a proper meal. Making his way through the house and down to the kitchen, he stopped in the doorway, his breath catching in his throat. Emma's back was to him and she seemed unaware of his presence. Watching her as she moved about the kitchen caused a pang of sadness to hit Killian in the chest. Thoughts of what could have been ran through his head; thoughts of her cooking dinner for the two of them, him sliding up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, and someday her cooking dinner not only for them, but maybe a child or two as well.

"That smells wonderful there, Swan," he spoke up.

Emma nearly jumped out of her skin, clearly startled. "Good lord, you scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry, love," Killian smiled, stepping into the kitchen.

"I figured…you must be hungry," Emma stammered a bit. "I was hungry…so…yeah…I made eggs. And bacon." She slid a plate across the table toward him, gesturing for him to sit.

"You didn't need to trouble yourself."

"No trouble," she replied.

They sat in relative silence, the only noises being the clank of forks against plates as they ate. When he was finished, Killian sat back in his chair with a content sigh. "That was..delicious. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Emma said, breaking into a massive yawn.

It was then that Killian noticed the dark circles under her eyes. He wondered when the last time she'd slept was. "You're dead on your feet there, Swan. I should head back to Granny's and let you rest."

Emma drew her feet up in the chair, resting her head on her knees, as Killian cleared the plates and utensils from the table. More silence. Feeling that since she was generous enough to cook a meal for him, he could be gracious enough to wash the dishes, he was engrossed in his task when she suddenly spoke up.

"Killian?"

He looked up, hands still submerged in the soapy water and waited for her to speak.

"Would you…"she hesitated

"Love?"

Emma watched him for another moment, caught in the domesticity of the moment, before she finally spoke.

"Stay."

TBC