She shouldn't be here.

They were home now, back in Boston, and things were supposed to go back to normal. Emma had plenty of things to do in order to accomplish that. She needed to settle back into her life. She still needed to find a new place to stay, to deal with the insurance claim on her destroyed apartment - and thank David for getting the ball rolling on that - before the adjuster wrote her off as a lost cause, she needed to salvage what was left of her sparse belongings, and she needed to beg and plead for her boss to understand why she'd been gone for so long. She needed to get back into a schedule that didn't include running cell phone traces and cleaning weapons and chasing down evil men.

Instead, it was 2AM and Emma was pacing up and down the stairs to the Jones' brownstone.

She shouldn't be here.

She should go back to Mary Margaret's, curl up on the bed in the spare room, and try to sleep. But it had been three long nights of tossing and turning on the too-small, too-empty bed without more than an hour or so of exhausted stupor before her alarm clock went off and the chipper sounds of the house waking for the day dragged her towards the promise of coffee.

So when the clock numbers trudged past 1AM and Emma was no closer to getting any real rest despite the Tylenol PM she had snatched from the medicine cabinet, she knew where she had to go.

Of course, that bravado lasted right up until her first trip up the stairs to Killian and Liam's place.

It was 2AM. What was she thinking? Killian was still ill, Liam would be, both the brothers would be sleeping, she couldn't just intrude. 'Oh hi, Liam, don't mind me, I just need to sleep in your brother's room because I've gotten used to falling asleep to the sound of his breathing.' Sure, that would go over swimmingly.

"Emma?" her name echoed through the night.

Liam's voice startled her badly and she almost tripped down the last few steps. She only managed to save herself the indignity of falling by latching onto the railing and holding on for dear life. Emma turned around with a blush creeping over her cheeks and a glare to divert attention from it.

The look on her face dared Liam to say anything. It dared him to laugh at her or berate her or question her.

"Come on inside, lass. It's late." He didn't wait for her jaw to drop, for her to decide to follow. Liam just ambled back inside and left the door open.

Emma stared after him for a long few minutes, perplexed and hesitant. She knew what she wanted, knew what she needed at the moment, but could she reach out and take it?

Liam was waiting for her just inside the door.

"I trust you remember where his room is? He's had his meds for the night and he should sleep until at least six." He left her at the foot of the stairs, disappearing behind the door to the office without a second glance.

Well, then.

They had come a long way from you're going to get my brother killed, and Emma was still struggling to catch up. But that was a journey for another day. This night, she was already yawning and there were at least a few hours of sleep calling her name at the top of the stairs.

Killian was sprawled across the middle of the bed, propped up on at least four pillows. The blankets were tangled around his legs and there was another pillow on the floor near the foot of the bed. His head was tipped back against the headboard and soft snores escaped every once in awhile.

Emma was already starting to feel the drag of sleep.

There were so many reasons to curl up on the chair near Killian's bed. So many reasons not to crawl into bed with him and relax for the first time in days.

But there were so many more reasons to do just that.

Emma didn't let herself ponder the why nots for long enough to talk herself out of shedding her jeans and shifting the blankets out from Killian's legs. Instead, she grabbed the fallen pillow and tucked herself into his side, letting her ear rest just over his heart.

The last thing she remembered before falling into the first deep sleep she'd gotten in weeks was the feeling of Killian's arm coming to wrap around her shoulder and his soft, contented sigh breathed out against the crown of her head.

There was an arm across his chest and a weight on his shoulder.

Killian woke with a start. Even before he could figure out what had pulled him from sleep, his brain was already calculating the distance to his weapon that Liam unhelpfully kept moving from under the pillows to the bedside drawer.

And then he smelled Emma's shampoo, felt the soft fingers curled against his chest, heard her even cadence of breaths that signified a deep sleep. She was here, safe and in his arms.

It threw him for a moment - the sounds and smells were of his room, but Killian hadn't seen Emma since they parted ways at the airport. Since then, it had been doctor's appointments and medications that left him foggy, regimented meal times (whether or not he was hungry didn't seem to matter) and trying not to kill his brother. In between bouts of nightmares and drug-induced slumber, Killian hadn't had much time to so much as think about Emma, never mind try to make sure Liam was keeping tabs on her.

And now she was here. She was here, -and comfortably asleep - if the soft snores were any indication.

A less intelligent man would have questioned it. A less intelligent man would have woken her up to figure out where she'd come from.

Killian just tucked her head more firmly under his chin and fell back to sleep.

The coughs that wracked his frame woke them both up a few hours later. Killian pitched forward, his hand coming automatically to his chest as he tangled his fingers with hers. He was vaguely aware of Emma ducking under his arm to let him rest against her, but he was far more concerned with dragging in oxygen. Tears blurred his vision as he continued coughing, but he could feel Emma's hand rubbing up and down his back, her soothing words whispered in his ear. It took a moment, but eventually he calmed and sagged back into her embrace.

It was barely light enough in the room to see, the dawn's sun just peeking in through the blinds. The fog of sleep began to recede, Emma's arms tightening around him as they settled back against the pillows with his head cushioned on her chest.

Killian listened to the even rhythm of Emma's heartbeat, closed his eyes in response to fingers carding through his hair.

"Hi," she whispered tentatively. She only offered the barest of explanations to her presence, just a simple, "I couldn't sleep."

Killian smiled wryly, remembering the soft snores he'd heard when he'd awoken earlier. Apparently she could sleep just fine with him. "Far be it from me to complain about a beautiful woman in my bed, love. I didn't expect you though."

She nodded, her chin bouncing lightly off the crown of his head. "Liam let me in."

He hummed his approval at that. It had been a long time since he'd had to sheepishly explain away a lass in his room as a teenager, but somehow he had a feeling that despite the age difference between then and now, it would have been no less mortifying.

It was easier, her thought, with Emma here. It didn't take long for Killian to realize that it was the lingering illness that had woken him and not another nightmare. That it was a physical ailment that had torn him from sleep instead of Liam shaking him awake - sweat-soaked and tangled in the sheets. She was warm, wrapped around him as she was, and it was comfortable in a way he hadn't experienced in weeks.

Not since the last time they'd slept together, curled up as best they could around the gunshot wound in his side, in that hotel room.

It was a feeling Killian didn't want to give up - not because of the brightening sun coming through the window that signified the day's beginning, and certainly not in the days and weeks and months to come.

But Killian's ability to hope for happy endings had died five years ago, terrified and alone, in the Somali desert.

With monumental effort, he managed to replace the image of John's mangled body with the bright smile on the little brother's face. Michael was his saving grace at the moment. The bright spot in everything he'd gone through in Gold's basement. It had taken Killian years, the most convoluted path he could have imagined, and a fateful run in with the blonde marvel now tangled up in his sheets, but he had finally kept his promise to John.

"How are Michael and Wendy doing?" he whispered, staring resolutely at how Emma's legs were entwined with his own. He hoped his voice didn't sound half as strangled as he imagined.

Emma's hand slid down his arm to grip his wrist just over the healing cuts Gold had left and Killian had to rely on all of his training not to pull his hand away.

"They're doing well. We found a temporary family for them both to stay with while Wendy works on getting full custody of Michael from the state, so at least they're together while that happens. Then there will be a probationary period once they're on their own, but I think they'll be just fine." Her voice was pitched low, the tenor calming.

Killian smiled, the idea that John's family would be able to stay together - to learn to heal together - was a powerful image. He felt something loosen in his chest that he hadn't even realized had been knotted up for years. That feeling of failure - of abandoning the boy who'd trusted him and breaking promise after promise to John - had been a part of Killian for five long years and he felt lighter just knowing that he could finally put it all to rest.

He didn't realize that he was crying softly until Emma's arms tightened around him, her face - creased with concern - looking down at him.

"Killian?" she whispered hesitantly, just the slightest hint of panic in her tone. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, clenching his teeth in a vain attempt to get the tears to stop. He wasn't entirely sure what was happening, not quite able to get a handle on his emotions. Killian tried to keep his breathing even, tried to calm the storm that was brewing.

He was stronger than this. He'd been trained to be stronger than this.

"Do you need Liam? Your meds?" Emma let go of him, trying to weasel her way out from behind him, the hint of panic growing as she tried to figure out what was wrong with him.

She couldn't leave; he couldn't do this without Emma. He needed her.

Killian turned in her arms, snaking his own around her waist and holding on for dear life. He buried his face in her neck and squeezed to keep her there, wrapped around him - his only buoyancy against the deluge.

"Stay," he croaked. "Please?"

Killian was surprised at just how small his voice sounded, just how vulnerable he was.

Emma's arms tightened around him and she nodded with her chin tucked against his head as she helped him ride out the storm. With her there to keep him afloat, Killian shattered. The years of grief he'd buried and the fear and worry he'd boxed away during his imprisonment finally overwhelming him.

Killian thought he heard a door open, thought he heard Emma's voice murmuring to someone - Liam, his brain helpfully supplied - but he couldn't handle anything more than his own breakdown at the moment, so he just turned more fully into her and knotted his fingers in her shirt.

The feel of Emma's warm breath across his ear as she shushed him was a balm to the wounds that his memories were tearing open. He didn't question it, couldn't question it, not when he was barely hanging on as it was. Killian leaned on Emma's strength and finally let things take their course.

It seemed to be hours later when the tears finally slowed and his breathing evened out from hitched gasps back to the shallow breaths he'd become accustomed to. Whale would have a fit if he knew Killian wasn't trying to breathe deeply, but he simply couldn't manage that pain on top of the embarrassment and emotional upheaval.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his cheeks already growing warm as he realized Emma had borne witness to the entire thing.

Emma breathed out heavily through her nose, hugged him tighter, and kissed the top of his head. "You don't have anything to apologize for. Are you all right?"

Was he all right? Killian wasn't entirely sure, and the noncommittal shrug he gave was the only answer he could come up with for her.

But what he was sure of was that Emma was the only one who knew John's whole story. The only one who knew Michael, who loved Michael like Killian loved his older brother.

She might be the only person who could understand.

"I know that I can't really understand what you went through, and I know that it's probably not my place. But if you want to talk about what Gold did to you, I'm a pretty good listener." Emma's fingers tightened further in his hair, her cheek squashed into the crown of his head as if she could squeeze the strength back into him.

"It's not what you're thinking. At least, not totally, love." Part of Killian wanted to leap up from the bed and start pacing, wasn't sure if he could have this conversation in the safe cocoon Emma had him wrapped in. But more of him knew that this was the only way he could open up to her - without having to look her in the eye and see the sympathy he didn't want.

Emma nodded. "Like I said, you don't have to-"

"-Michael is John's little brother," he spit out his confession as if it were a dirty secret. As if she would be angry that he'd kept this from her for so long. He hurried to rationalize, to make her understand something, anything. He couldn't allow her to be angry with him. "I didn't know. Not when we were chasing Gold down and not when I let you go into that coffee shop alone. I never knew John's last name; it didn't matter when he was just an orphan that I wanted to bring home. It didn't matter to me, and it didn't… I didn't know…" He was rambling. He needed to stop.

"Shh," Emma soothed. "I know you didn't know. It's all right."

It took her a moment to process. Killian knew the moment it hit her. He could hear the way her heart sped up and could feel her chest freeze mid-expansion, her breath caught in her throat.

"John… was a Darling. You saved Michael. You saved his little brother. Oh, Killian, no wonder…" it was her turn to trail off, burying her face in his hair as her breath stuttered out.

"Gold knew," Killian continued. "The bastard must have known all along. He waited until the most profitable moment to let me know, of course. It's why he came into the shop that day. Why he dragged Michael and Wendy along and dangled them right under my nose. I'd have… I'd have traded myself for them anyway, they're innocent in all this. But he just wanted to twist the knife a little more. Wanted to make sure I'd be off my game."

"Oh God," Emma whispered, scooting down until they were wrapped in each other. "I don't know how you did it. How you do it. How you survived. Killian, when we found you, I was so afraid. I thought that… I didn't think we'd find you. But you did it. You beat him. And you're here, and you're going to be okay."

"I had something Gold could never understand, love."

He could hear the tears in her voice when she whispered, "What?"

Killian almost laughed. He'd told her before, but he would tell her every day for the rest of their lives if she'd let him. "Don't you know, Emma? It's you."

Emma smiled as she hung up the phone. Wendy had just called to tell her that they were finally settled in the apartment Mary Margaret had found for them and contrary to Wendy's daughter Jane's angry sobbing in the background, it was a good fit for the little family. Michael's placement with his sister was still technically under probation, but Emma was confident it was a formality.

She closed their file and looked up at the knock on the door.

"Miss Swan?" One of the interns was waiting patiently for her attention.

Behind the young woman, looking oddly hopeful for being in her office, was a boy around Michael's age. He was the new case that had been assigned to her, but the look on his face didn't match his situation. "Come on in."

The boy bounced into the room, clutching his backpack to his chest and grinning at her. "Hi! My name's Henry."

She placed him with Mary Margaret and David right away. They would know just what to do with all of his exuberance and his file said that he'd been placed in homes with infants before. She hoped it would be a perfect match.

It was on her way back to the office from their house when she noticed the text from Killian.

Save me, Swan.

Emma rolled her eyes.

It had only been a few weeks since his physician and the psychologist had cleared him for desk duty, but with the way Killian was acting about it, she was pretty sure he'd rather be locked in Gold's basement. Huffing out a laugh through her smile, Emma detoured from her route and headed for the Pret A Manger in Back Bay. If she was going to distract him from the endless files Liam was keeping him busy with, she was going to do it on a full stomach.

By the time she got to JR Solutions and found a parking spot in the garage, the aroma from the lunch she had picked up was making her mouth water. Emma was so distracted that she ran into a man waiting for the elevator. He was impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit with an artfully tied ascot, his blond hair coiffed stylishly, and an odd look on his face. His coffee sloshed over his hand and he cried out.

"I'm so sorry," Emma practically yelled. "I was in a hurry and I didn't see you."

"I'm not angry," he hissed. "I'm just... disappointed."

The man smiled coldly at her before walking back towards the cars, and Emma stared after him. She had thought he was waiting to go up to one of the offices, why else would he be waiting at the elevators, but put it out of her mind. Killian's lunch and hers were getting colder the longer she stood there, transfixed, so she headed up to see him.

He was pouting.

Killian was honest-to-God pouting at the pile of papers on his desk.

He looked utterly miserable. His hair was in disarray as if he'd spent hours running his fingers through it, and the suit jacket and tie he was wearing were both askew from what had to be constant fiddling. Emma tried to keep the smile from her face, but when he looked up with puppy dog eyes at her, she lost it.

"I'm glad you find my predicament so amusing, love. Liam is trying to pay me back for worrying him, I'm sure of it. The wanker has been across town in meetings. All week." There was a distinct whine to Killian's tone, and it made Emma laugh harder.

"Who's torturing who, buddy? If you've been this whiny all week, no wonder he's taken off." Emma smirked when his pout turned into a look of total affront.

"I'll have you know, Swan, that I am perfectly capable of going back into the field. Just because Whale and Liam are…"

"Killian." Emma's humor turned into exasperation. They'd had this argument almost every day since he'd been released from the hospital. She'd hoped it would get better once he was allowed back to the office, but it seemed she wasn't that lucky. "Your scans only just came back clear. By rights, they could still be making you stay at home."

"I know," he acknowledged. "But I'm ready."

Emma sighed. "We can keep arguing about this, but I won't give you your treat if you do." She held up the bag and shook it.

Killian's eyes lit up and his mouth clamped shut.

For a moment.

"What did you bring me?" Emma swore he was drooling a little bit.

"Mac and cheese. But if you don't want it…" she trailed off.

"With spinach and tomato? My love, you're the best person I know." He dug out utensils and grinned as Emma placed the food in front of him. She dug her own sandwich out of the bag and munched as Killian swooned over his meal.

"You know, I think you like that more than you like me." Emma grinned, raising one eyebrow in challenge.

Killian groaned, but didn't dispute the fact as he shoveled more of the pasta into his mouth with a cheeky grin. She rolled her eyes in response.

"Did Whale at least give you a timeline when you saw him yesterday?" As much as the thought of him going back into the field made her nervous, she couldn't take much more of him being stuck at a desk either.

"'Ask me again in a week', he said. Like that isn't exactly what he's been saying for weeks now." Killian started to pout again.

Emma just shook her head. He'd be back in the field soon enough, and until then, she'd take these little stolen moments.

When Killian spoke up again, their food was gone and the couch in his office was much more conducive to making him feel better. "At least the time off did us one favor. I'm devilishly handsome again."

Emma rolled her eyes, punching him in the shoulder, hard.

He adopted a hurt look, rubbing at his shoulder. His voice was a low grumble, and it made her smile. "You know, love, I quite fancy you from time to time. When you aren't punching me."

She soothed her hand over where she'd punched him before leaning in to kiss him soundly.

"Good."