Emma hurried past him, as if the matter were over and done with.

"Swan! Swan!" Killian called after her, running to catch the door before it slammed in his face.

Everything had happened so quickly, he was having trouble processing it all. One moment he'd been slumped at the table, ruminating his ill fortune over a tumbler of rum, the next he'd watched in horror as a giant hairy beast had flown past the windows, obviously in pursuit of something or someone on the rooftop.

Rushing from the apartment, he'd knocked over the chair in his haste, the blood rushing in his ears as his heart hammered against his ribcage.

Emma.

He hadn't traveled all that way and risked so much just to let her fall prey to some monster, at least he desperately hoped not. Taking the stairs two at a time, he clutched hard to the belief that she'd be able to defend herself, at least until he got there. Heat flooded through his veins like fire. That beast had better be ready for a fight, because he was more than ready to give it one.

Of course, by the time he'd burst through the roof entrance, every muscle in his body coiled tight and prepared for whatever was awaiting him, Emma had already defeated the monster, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she clutched an iron rod in her hand. She looked glorious in her triumph, her golden hair floating up around her straight shoulders in the breeze, emerald eyes luminous in the dim light, like the fierce princess that she was.

A great sigh of relief escaped him, his body relaxing from its heightened state of arousal. She was safe.

His respite didn't last long, however, because then there was all that bit about "everything she wanted and everything she thought she could have not being in the cards for the savior," and his heart was broken all over again. He longed to console her, to tell her that perhaps happiness was in store for her, she'd just been attached to the wrong man, but he knew damn well she didn't want to hear it, especially from him. She'd treated him with nothing but contempt since he'd arrived, and he knew now more than ever that winning her heart was going to be an uphill battle.

A bumbling fool he'd been, that was certain. His brother would have cuffed him over the head for his lame attempt at a true love's kiss, but he had to try, nevertheless. He only thanked the heavens that she'd finally listened to him and drank the potion, restoring her memories. Not that she was very happy about the whole situation, being brought back to a reality which included monsters and curses and all manners of peril, some obviously following her into the land without magic unbeknownst to her, oblivious in her blithe existence. Even he could see why she might be reluctant to thank him for such a gift.

At present, he followed her all the way to her front door, calling out to her in vain, for she neither acknowledged him nor so much as turned her head over her shoulder to look at him, her body radiating with adrenaline from the fight. He hurried to keep up with her, stumbling down the stairs as she ran seemingly out of reach.

Finally, as her hand reached out to open her apartment door, she paused, exhaling deeply before looking at him, her expression wary as he came down the hallway towards her.

"Swan! Lass, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she breathed, her voice laced with anger. Nothing new there.

He dared to take a few steps closer.

"Darling, you've suffered quite a shock, I'm sure. What was that thing? You never answered me," he asked, gesturing towards the ceiling with his hook.

"That thing - whatever it was - was my…" she trailed off as the reality of it all began to hit her, eyes widening in horror. "It was Walsh, O.K.!"

Her shoulder slumped against the wall, and he reached for her instinctively, worried that she just might collapse now that the adrenaline had worn off. Grabbing her arm, he held her upright, wanting to draw her closer but hardly daring any more contact than was necessary, lest she harm him in the unmentionables once again.

As for the Walsh bit, he suspected as much, but it was still both a terrible relief and yet very worrisome news, his feelings warring within him. On the one hand, the playing field for Emma's heart had just conveniently been cleared of one suitor. On the other hand, who in God's name had sent the man? Or had he found her on her own, her savior magic like a beacon to the alter-realms? But if that were true, why try and kill her?

Emma's eyes fell shut and her body slumped further, the color draining from her face.

"Let's get you inside," he said gently but firmly, motioning towards the door.

Suddenly her eyes snapped open and she jerked out of his grasp like the stubborn, independent lass that she was. He let her go, but it hurt nonetheless, how little she wanted to do with him.

"No, I'm fine, OK?" she asserted, edgy and breathless.

Moving his hand to his belt buckle, he considered her briefly before deciding on a different tack.

"Look, let me go in there with you and make sure there aren't any other beasts lying in wait. I know you're fully capable of handling things on your own, but humor me, would you?" He raised his eyebrow teasingly.

Little did she know just how much he would worry about her if she didn't at least let him check behind the door to make sure there wasn't another monster lying in wait.

She paused a beat, her lips pressing into a hard line as she took in his offer. Finally, she relented, rolling her eyes as she sighed annoyedly.

"Fine!"

There was more grumbling under her breath as she opened the door and stood aside to let him in, closing it firmly behind him as he ducked inside. He didn't waste any time, glancing about the large living room for signs of intruders and then quickly checking both bedrooms and the hall bath. All were clear.

Emma remained in the kitchen, arms circling her body in a protective manner, looking exhausted and completely devoid of feeling. She was hurting, badly, and he knew it.

Walking over to the table, he didn't bother to bring his toppled chair aright, but instead made his way straight to the liquor, pouring them each a healthy portion and handing her a glass before turning to retrieve his own.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes, irritation marring her features. Better that than the pale, sickly look she'd been sporting a few moments earlier.

"Rum really is your solution to everything, isn't it?" She kept an arm crossed over her chest.

Killian tilted his head at her, grinning boldly. Still, his voice was gentle when he answered her.

"It'll help, with the shock. Believe it or not, I've survived many a battle on the sure wings of rum."

Watching as she lifted the tumbler slowly to her lips, he couldn't help but grin wider as she followed his advice despite her protest. He took down a gulp of his own, the alcohol burning a path down his throat that felt familiar and comforting.

Emma turned, walking around the couch and then slumping onto it. He followed her, sitting opposite so he could see her face.

They sat in silence, the flicker of city lights their only companion, while he waited for her to speak. Emma nursed her rum obediently, staring off into space.

Suddenly she shook her head, disbelieving.

"Do you suppose whoever cast the curse sent him here? To keep an eye on me?"

Killian raised his eyebrows, shrugging his shoulders as he set his empty glass upon the coffee table.

"'Tis possible, I suppose. Did it seem like he was 'keeping an eye on you?'"

"No! I mean, he asked me to marry him for goodness sake! I thought-" Her mouth formed a grim line once again, the scar setting in, cutting painful and deep as reality sunk in, lines creasing her forehead.

She looked up at him. "He said I shouldn't have drunk that potion. He tried to convince me to stay here, to abandon my family."

Killian tensed at that, rubbing his hand across his jaw. "That bastard was watching us!"

It made his blood curdle to think of it, almost worse than the thought of that monster having his hands all over Emma. It had felt like a private moment between the two of them, despite the abundance of city life all around, and his stomach soured considerably.

Emma visibly shuddered, then abruptly rose from her seat.

"I need answers, and there's only one place to get them. Storybrooke."

Killian rose from his seat also, satisfied that she would survive the night at least without another threat of attack, but he loathed to leave her in her present state.

"Well, then, seeing as your apartment appears secure…"

Tucking her hair firmly behind her ears, her eyes flicked over him before she picked up a blanket off the couch, throwing it in his general direction.

"You can sleep here. We'll leave first thing in the morning."

He was shocked, to say the least, but caught the blanket anyway.

"But Master Henry-"

"Is at a sleepover at his friends' house. You can leave before he gets back, go get a coffee or something so he won't know you were here."

He merely nodded at her, not wanting to appear too pleased with her sudden change of heart, for she could always reverse her decision and push him out into the cold again - both literally and figuratively - but he was happy, to say the least. It pleased him greatly to be able to be close to her, to watch over her in case anything else should happen.

"I'll put out a toothbrush for you in the bathroom," she threw out over her shoulder as she walked away, obviously anxious for the sanctuary of her bedroom.

Killian made himself busy tidying up while she used the facilities, hope tingling at the edges of his heart once again. Perhaps all was not so lost as he'd previously thought.

A glass of water.

That was what had urged Emma from her bed in the middle of the night, head fuzzy even though she'd only been tossing and turning for near on a half an hour.

Who could blame her for having trouble sleeping after the evening she'd had? It's not every day your boyfriend turns into a flying monkey with fiery red eyes and tries to kill you.

The extra rum she'd drunk right before bed had only served to make her sleep too light and her body too hot. Throwing the covers back and stumbling from the bed, she had been on auto pilot when she made the all-too-common journey to the kitchen in hopes that a glass of water would cool her down and coax herself back into slumber. Hopefully without the scary dreams to accompany it.

As she'd emerged from the hallway into the living room, she was struck with a completely new vision, one that made her stop abruptly in her tracks, clutching at the corner of the wall and hiding herself behind it until she could figure out what in the hell was going on.

There was a pirate asleep on her couch.

Scratch that. Captain Freaking Hook was asleep on her couch, and it took Emma just a minute to clear her brain fog enough to understand why.

Emma bit her lip, remembering how she'd casually suggested that Hook could sleep on her couch, pausing to enjoy the memory of the shocked expression on his face. God, that man could get under her skin.

Speaking of skin, he was naked. Or at least he appeared to be, Emma's breath catching in her throat as her eyes painted a trail from his broad shoulders down to his hair-lined chest to where the blanket hung loosely around his hips. She desperately hoped he'd had enough sense to keep his pants on beneath that blanket, but she couldn't tell from that distance.

She'd never seen him like that before, and she certainly wasn't expecting him to be so...so...relaxed undressing in her apartment, but then if there was one thing Hook had always been, it was comfortable in his own skin.

Emma noticed the brace attached to the top of his shoulder, the leather straps lining his arm until they came to a blunt end. His stump was half-obscured between his body and the couch cushions, but she knew it was there all the same. Strangely, she felt a twinge of emotion at the sight, for she'd never seen him so exposed, without a prosthetic or hook attached to his wrist. In every other way, he was nearly flawless, making the blighted arm stand out in stark contrast.

Still as a statue, he was impossibly beautiful in the moonlight, the sheen from the window casting an ethereal glow on his features, turning the tips of his black hair silver. Long, dark lashes fanned out over his cheekbones, complementing the straight line of his nose and the lush curve of his lips. Even his chest hair was perfect, not too much or too little, gathering in beneath his pecs and defining the center of his muscled abdomen. His good arm was slung casually across his waist, five long, masculine fingers resting near his hip.

If she didn't know any better, she'd think he really was a ghost, just like she'd described him earlier. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed was the only indication that he was truly alive, not even a soft snore escaping him.

That was what finally made Emma scoff. It figured that he could sleep so easily, he didn't have a curse to break and an entire fairytale kingdom's memories to restore. Again.

Making her way carefully across the smooth hardwood floor, Emma shook off the image of Hook sleeping peacefully and returned to her original mission. As quietly as she could, she opened a cupboard door and took out a glass. The faucet was a bit trickier, but she managed to fill the glass quickly, glancing over her shoulder to make sure she hadn't awoken the sleeping pirate, and then drinking it straight down. Refilling it again, she turned to head back toward her room.

Secretly celebrating her success, she tiptoed through the dark kitchen and was halfway across the dining room when she turned her head once more to look at Hook and banged her foot into a piece of furniture. The end table she'd bought from Walsh, to be exact.

"Yeouch!" she yelped out before she could stop herself, putting the glass of water down on top of the table and clutching at her foot, squeezing it tightly as she hopped up and down on the other foot.

In an instant, Hook was by her side, good hand on her elbow, braced hand holding her steady on the other side.

"Emma! Love, are you alright?" There was terror in his voice, and Emma silently cursed her inability to keep quiet.

"Yes, I'm-" she stifled an expletive, groaning in pain as she grimaced. When this was all over with, she should have the damn table burned.

"Is anyone here? Another monster?" Hook asked urgently.

She watched as his spine instantly straightened, his sharp eyes scanning the room for signs of danger, obviously a person who was used to being attacked at any hour of the night.

"No, no, nothing like that." Emma dropped her foot, sighing loudly. "I got up for a glass of water and it was dark, so I ran into a table and hurt my foot. I didn't mean to wake you."

Hook was still holding tight to her elbow, but for some reason she didn't try to shake out of his grasp this time. As he focused on her face, she shivered a little out of nowhere, the color of his eyes so similar to the color of the sea at night it was surreal.

"Apologies, lass. You had me worried there for a moment." He raised an eyebrow.

Emma looked up into his face - really looked - and something came over her, something raw and hungry and powerful that she only now realized she'd been pushing down from the surface the entire time she'd been in New York with Henry. Deep inside of her, all the memories came rushing to the surface in the presence of her fairytale companion, a man who knew who she truly was, even better than she'd known herself as of yesterday.

It'd all been a lie. The thought welled up inside of her suddenly, choking her.

She was still a lost girl, an orphan, a runaway from the foster system whose parents had been forced to put her into a portal in hopes of breaking a curse. The man she thought had loved her, had wanted to marry her, had turned out to be a fake as well and she'd never even seen it coming. And now she was going to have to save everyone all over again and restore their memories, all while keeping Henry in the dark until he could be awoken from his slumber as well. Anger welled up like hot lava, burning at her throat and piercing her heart.

"Yeah, well. It's not like you really have anything to worry about, do you?"

Hook tilted his head at her, looking somewhat affronted.

He was about to say something when she began speaking - rambling really - alcohol and lack of sleep possessing her words far more than sense.

"It's not like you have an entire kingdom to save, or your parents to help, or a teenage boy to convince that it's all normal! And I don't see any beasts or flying monkeys trying to kill you! And it's not...it's not…"

"That's where you're wrong, love," Hook said gently. "I have you to worry about."

Suddenly the fire went out of her, replaced by fear and exhaustion. All the energy of trying to reconcile her current reality with what she had thought had been true just yesterday taxed her system, hollowing her out and making her temporarily raw and brittle. Emma Swan - the orphan, the bounty hunter, the savior - didn't cry, but just yesterday she'd been a bit more open, a bit more vulnerable, and a part of that person was still with her.

Looking up into Hook's eyes, so concerned and full of sympathy, she felt the wall inside her crack just a little, a torrent of emotion breaking through, and it was near impossible to keep the tears that had welled up in her eyes from falling.

Sobbing, she didn't fight him when he pulled her against him, the warmth of his body a soothing blanket for the pains that ailed her. His arms encircled her, holding her close and she fell into him, clutching at his back with both hands, needing someone to ground her from the bizarre nightmare she currently found herself in.

"Shh...there there, darling, t'will be alright," he whispered in a soothing voice, fingers running through her hair, pushing it away from her face. She could feel his breath in warm puffs against her cheek.

Emma had no control now, letting the sobs wrack her body as she shook like a leaf, getting it all out, purging the pain from her system. Hook just held her and let her cry, and she had never been more grateful for his presence than at that very moment.

It was only when she was done crying that she began to surface back to the present reality, first becoming aware of the smooth, warm skin of Hook's back beneath her fingertips. He felt good and Emma was beginning to notice.

It turned out he did have his pants on, but Emma was only wearing a t-shirt which barely covered her ass. She realized that she was almost as naked as he was, the thin cotton of her shirt the only thing separating her breasts from where they were pressed firmly up against his chest.

And then - her emotions once more overtaking her logic - she could feel herself shifting from raw pain and sadness to something new and exciting, the feel of all that safe, warm pirate holding her in his strong arms bringing to life other emotions she had long buried deep, thinking they had been left forever at the town line, never to be recovered.

Raising her head and looking deep into his eyes, she saw everything there she wanted to see, and it sparked a little flame within her.

He gasped when she kissed him, for he was given little warning before she was up on her tippy toes, lips finding lips and claiming them, surprising him nearly as much as she surprised herself. Trembling at first, she found that flame and nurtured it, bringing herself back to life with Hook's help, grounding herself within his embrace.

Emma didn't hold anything back, her tongue seeking entrance and finding it, aggressively pulling him down to her and angling her chin to deepen the kiss, loving the way he made her feel - strong and passionate instead of weak and sad.

She poured everything into it and he gave it right back to her, pushing and swaying, their bodies becoming one beneath the frail light of the moon, the darkness encircling them and holding them there, entranced as they were with the fire burning between them.

Finally, she pulled back, eyes opening wide, realizing her mistake too slowly and immediately backing away, nearly stumbling in her haste.

His hair was a mess, and Emma had a hard time keeping her eyes from traveling below his waist, to see if he'd enjoyed the kiss just as much as she had.

"That was-"

"Let me guess, a two time thing?" Hook quipped cheekily, his mouth quirking up in a smirk.

"A mistake. I'm not thinking straight, which is why I should go back to bed. Obviously I'm feeling a bit overly emotional right now."

Hook hung his head, nodding slightly, his hand coming up to clutch at the back of his neck, showing off his impressive biceps in the process.

Emma sidestepped him, picking up her glass of water as she left. Her heart was racing and her foot aching, every step making her wince.

Only when she reached the hallway did she pause, finding her own behavior deplorable, and honestly feeling kind of bad about it. She did an about-face and found Hook in the exact same position, though he had turned to watch her go, his hand rubbing at his beard now and eyes still tender and full of concern - for her.

"I'm sorry I woke you," she uttered, not knowing what else to say, but hoping somehow he would understand.

"Anytime, love."

He smiled, though a bit wanly, and she recognized something in him that looked an awful lot like longing. She could hardly look at him, she turned away so quickly.

Reaching the safety of her bedroom, she closed the door softly behind her and leaned against it, taking a pause to calm herself down.

Hook scared her, almost as much as the mission she was undertaking, and she vowed right then and there to stop toying with his heart.

He'd made it pretty clear what his feelings were - "I came here to save you," "Not a day will go by I won't think of you."

Not that she'd had much time to consider the matter, but it wouldn't do her any good to lead him on when she was SO bereft of available emotion at the moment, it wasn't even funny.

"Gah!"

Emma set her glass on her nightstand and flopped facedown onto her bed, grabbing a pillow and covering her head with it, as if she could block out everything that had just happened.

What had she been thinking? Crying all over Hook and then kissing him!? Again!?

Right now what she needed was a friend and an ally, not a lover. Her cumulative relationship experience did not exactly convince her that real love existed out there for her - even her parents couldn't convince her of that. There was too much evidence to the contrary, and things with Hook would only end the same way they had with everyone else - badly, she was sure of it. She had to keep him at arm's length if she was going to protect herself and succeed in her mission, and that was exactly what she intended to do.

Still, as she eventually drifted off into a dreamless sleep, the words of her "ghost" haunted her, replaying in her mind over and over again.

"Perhaps there's a man that you love in the life that you've lost."

"Perhaps," Emma murmured in her sleep, clutching her pillow tightly to her chest.