Hi everyone!

Can I just mention how bloody AMAZING you guys are? Truly, the most dedicated and kindest readers I have ever encountered.
I love you all!

So, this chaoter might be a bit confusing-and it's supposed to be. I left out a pretty important moment, keeping up the mystery just a little bit longer ;)
I'm going to start on the final oneshot, 'Reunion So Bittersweet', for which I have millions of ideas swarming through my mind, trying to drive me insane :D

Anyway, after 'Reunion So Bittersweet', all will be explained and all of your questions shall be answered :D Until then, you'll have some more Captain Swan to appease you for the time being ;) I juggled between Emma and Killian's POV, and incorporated one flashback-the italics...

Show me some love (or hate) and leave a review with your thoughts!

Xx Annaelle

Meetings So Bittersweet

PART II

'This is all your fault,' Emma grumbled, pacing the length of the small cell again, making sure to kick his extended leg every time she passed the spot he was sitting.

'I'm sorry,' he frowned, leaning his head back against the wall, 'I fail to see how this is my fault. How on earth should I have foreseen your stupidity?' He realized his mistake—even though he did enjoy getting a rise out of her—as she whirled around, her eyes ablaze with barely contained rage.

Rage that was currently directed at him.

Goody.

'My stupidity?' she spat, 'Really? This whole thing was your fucking idea!' He rolled his eyes at her—there really wasn't anything they could do to change their current predicament, and he failed to see how getting all worked up over it was going to help anyone.

'Of course,' he drawled, annoyed at Emma's short-sightedness, stumbling to his feet, 'When the plan—that you agreed to—goes to hell, let's blame the pirate. Of course, it's all my fault.' His voice was dripping with sarcasm, and it only seemed to completely infuriate Emma further.

He didn't particularly care.

He was bloody sick and tired of getting blamed for every tiny setback—he was on her side; he wanted to get back to Storybrooke as much as she did—something she still failed to see.

'Don't you pretend to be all high and mighty with me,' she spat, poking his chest with each word, 'How do I know you didn't come up with that sob story about your daughter? How do I know you're not still with Cora? How can I fucking trust you at all?'

She had practically screamed those last words at him—fueling his own dark frustrations and rage. He had done everything he could possibly think of to show her he was with her, not Cora—and it still wasn't enough.

'Because I'm in here with you!' he yelled back, 'I'm in here, trapped in a bloody prison cell with you instead of being out there with Cora—what do I have to do, Swan? What the hell do you want from me? What more can I possibly do to show you that I'm on your bloody side?'

It was almost as though all the fight was suddenly drained from Emma, and she slumped forward—he only just managed to catch her before she fell to the floor.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered, wrapping her arms around him, holding him close, 'I know you're on our side. I know you're nor lying—I'm just… I'm so tired of fighting, of not getting a fucking break. I just want to go home.'

He was rather impressed with his control—he'd been able to simply hold her, and not freak out at how perfect she felt in his arms—almost as though she had always been meant to be held by him.

He stopped that thought right there.

Nope.

He was not going there.

That was one step too far—flirting, teasing and stolen smiles aside—that was something neither of them was ready for; not by a fucking long shot.

He slowly moved them to the floor, sitting back against the wall, still holding Emma—who seemed to be in the middle of a complete mental breakdown—stroking her hair softly.

He didn't like seeing her like this; broken—vulnerable—pained. Emma was strong and independent—something he admired most about her. He couldn't even imagine Emma sitting back and letting someone else take charge of something—she was hands-on and he loved it.

She wasn't afraid to fight for what she wanted. She was never going to be the kind of person to wait for things to work out themselves.

Nope. There was something that was never going to happen. The fact that this had her so upset though, had him upset too. 'Is there anything I can do?' he asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, pressing a kiss on her hair without thinking about it.

It didn't even feel weird to be this close her, to hold her, comfort her. She sniffed and buried her face in his shirt, shaking her head. 'No. I'm being stupid. You're right. This isn't your fault—I agreed to it. We came up with this half-cocked, stupid idea together.'

He smirked slightly. 'Aye love,' he muttered, 'That we did.'

.

.

.

'Wait,' Killian groaned, pulling Emma back when she made to climb back onto the beanstalk. She frowned at him, and he could see the fear of being wrong slam right back into her.

He resisted the urge to pout at her obvious reluctance to trust him and promised himself to find the son of a bastard that hurt her one day to beat the crap out of him—he didn't really want to know why he wanted to hurt the man that had hurt Emma; nor did he feel particularly comfortable with investigating his sudden need to have her trust him—he just knew that he wanted her to.

'What if Cora caught up with us already?' He questioned, gesturing towards the beanstalk. 'She's going to figure out I switched sides sooner or later, and however much I might want it to be later—the witch is not dumb.'

Emma's eyes widened, and he could see realization dawn in those damn beautiful green orbs of hers.

Good.

She was a smart lass.

She knew Cora figuring out the pirate wasn't on her side anymore wasn't a good thing—as ruthless as Killian prided himself to be at times; his acts of violence paled in comparison to some of the shit Cora pulled on her enemies.

Another reason he'd stuck to her side for so long.

He really didn't like being on the receiving end of one of her most unpleasant curses.

Emma frowned at him and sighed heavily. 'Well… What do you propose? We only have a little bit of time left before Mulan is going to cut down the beanstalk—with or without us down there.'
He was slightly caught off guard by her revelation; but then suppressed a smile. He knew she was up to something when she and Mulan were whispering together.

He ignored that little fact though—he needed to think fast; after all—he was a master at duplicity and deceiving people.

'We still need to steal the wardrobe ashes,' he said slowly, 'We'll need to get close to her anyway.' He watched as Emma slowly caught on to the unspoken—and infinitely stupid and dangerous—part of his plan.

'But how will we get it from her?' She wondered, biting her lower lip, staring past him. He faltered too, unsure if there even was a way to stop the witch; other than the Crocodile, he was fairly certain she was the most powerful magical being in this realm.

Something—a rumor he had heard many, many years ago—stirred his memory. 'Your parents…' he said slowly, 'There were rumors the Dark One was captive underneath your palace for several months before the curse took them to your land—if your mother recalls how they incapacitated him…' Emma's eyes were wide as she grabbed his arm and squeezed it hard, a smile forming on her lips. '—we might be able to do the same to Cora!'

'Exactly,' he agreed, returning her smile with ease. He loved seeing her smile—he nearly hit himself at that thought. Again with the loving? What the bloody hell is wrong with me?

'Okay,' she smiled. 'It's a plan. We climb down, find out how they caught Rumpelstiltskin and how to do it to Cora.'

He smirked and extended a hand to help her climb up the wall before he turned to the beanstalk. 'When you put it like that,' he drawled, 'It sounds so damn easy. Wonder why I didn't think of that before.'

She winked at him. 'I guess I really am smarter than you are.'

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.

.

Emma sighed and sank further into Hook's embrace. She didn't want to think too much about why this felt good. She didn't want to know why she broke down for the first time in ten years in the presence of a freaking pirate—but she needed it; she needed to let go for once, and let someone catch her. Even if that someone happened to be a lying son of a bastard pirate who had more trust issues than she did.

She held onto him, allowing him closer than she had allowed anyone in a very long time, and sighed once again, looking around the empty, dirty cell. 'It was a good plan… Cora just… Saw us coming.'

He grunted in agreement and rested his chin of top of her head. She ignored the butterflies in her stomach as he seemed to pull her closer almost automatically—she usually wasn't the cuddly type; but it almost felt as though the temperature in the room was dropping; she didn't mind the heat that Hook's embrace emitted.

She startled suddenly, jerking away from him, her eyes growing wider in horror. 'Hook,' she began, slowly, trying to stop her voice from shaking, 'Is it me… Or is it getting colder in here?'
She felt him stiffen next to her as he sat up straighter too, looking around the cell, his blue eyes wide and cautious—she knew it.

That barrier spell wasn't the only thing Cora had done—she really wanted Emma and Hook out of the way—sucking the warmth from the room would most certainly kill them slowly and painfully.
She shivered slightly and moved closer to Hook subconsciously, seeking the warmth she knew his arms brought.

'That conniving, evil, murderous—' she heard him growl under his breath, his breath forming a small, white cloud as he breathed out. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply—this wasn't solving anything. They were still trapped.

She just hoped Snow and the other two got away.

'Do you think Snow, Mulan and Aurora got away?' She murmured, smiling when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer—the temperature was rapidly decreasing, and they were both shivering.

He chuckled and muttered, 'You mean, do I think your mother—who threatened to flay me with her bare hands—the warrior girl who mocked my hook and the annoying, whiny little princess got away from a murderous, smart, evil witch that's out to get the compass we wrestled from a dangerous giant?' Emma couldn't suppress her smile and rolled her eyes, lightly swatting his arm.

'Yeah—I guess that was what I was asking.' Hook grinned and nodded. 'I don't think your mother would ever let Cora get her greedy little hands on that compass, love. Not if she could prevent it.'

Emma smiled.

He was right—Snow would never allow Cora to get the compass. That's why she gave it to her before they split up—Emma and Hook had agreed that it would be too dangerous to stay together; far too easy for Cora to eliminate the threat. She and Hook had started for the castle, where Gold had told them they'd find Squid Ink to incapacitate Cora, and Mary-Margret and the 'Gruesome Twosome', as Hook loved to call them, had set course for Lake Nostos, where they knew Cora planned on opening the portal.

They fell silent, Emma considering what they could do to get out of the fucking cell before they froze to death.

All of a sudden, she felt anger well up from deep inside of her once again, and she simply couldn't sit still anymore. She jumped to her feet and started pacing the cell again, fuming silently—angry with Cora, with Hook, with herself—with the whole fucking world.

She had everything figured out before Henry showed up on her doorstep; she was fine on her own—and now… Now she was stuck in fucking fairytale land, locked in a freaking prison cell with Captain Hook of all people, nearly freezing to death because some crazy ass witch decided she had some kind of personal vendetta against her family—her life was one big, fucked up mess.

And Henry—her son, her sweet, sweet boy—she tried so hard to be a good mother and everything just got so messed up.

She was a crap mother.

'Swan,' Hook broke her from her thoughts, 'What are you doing?'

She ignored him, continuing to silently fume—he was too much right now. She couldn't handle him; she couldn't handle how easy it was to let go when he was with her.

It was unhealthy—he'd leave; as soon as they got out of this cell, he'd be all about his daughter and his revenge again, and she just couldn't let herself get close to him; she didn't want to be hurt again. She couldn't be hurt again—not by him.

Because she knew—somehow—she knew that Hook was capable of leaving a much bigger scar than Neal ever had; and that thought scared her more than anything else in the world.

She didn't notice that Hook had gotten up too, and approached her carefully. 'What's bothering you, love?'

She nearly jumped when he caught her wrist with his hook, pulling her to a stop, and turned her to look at him. She glared at him—Jesus. He claimed she was an open book; claimed she was so easy to read—couldn't he see she just needed some time to … to… build her walls higher? To convince herself to keep him at an arm's length before he'd get under her skin?

She could read the genuine worry in his eyes and it terrified her, because he was a pirate, he wasn't supposed to give a flying fuck about her—so why did he?

Why couldn't he just be an asshole like she expected him to be?

I'm always a gentleman.

His words echoed in her thoughts and made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. 'Look,' he interrupted her thoughts once again, 'if you're worried about your mom—or your boy—I'm sure they're fine. And from what I gathered from your mother before she threatened me, your dad will take care of your boy until you get back.'

Though he meant for the words to be comforting—soothing—they were anything but that to her. It made her snap. 'But they need me!' She hollered. 'I'm supposed to be the fucking savior, and I've done no saving. I managed to break the curse after I nearly let my son die! I can't save anyone locked in a godforsaken dungeon with you, and you—you just—'

She nearly screamed in aggravation, all of her frustrations and anger and fear choosing that particular moment to pour out of her, leaving a shivering, broken mess—and that was what she felt like.

A mess.

A failure.

A royal fuck up.

She tried to push past him—to get away from his imposing person, to get a semblance of self-control, but he didn't let her go.

And she didn't really expect him to.

He pulled her into his embrace, sliding down the wall again, settling her on his lap, holding her firmly—she was still trying to get away; she couldn't let him in—she just couldn't—she struggled and she fought and she yelled at him, but he never once budged, never once winced and never let her go.

'I'm not letting you go, love,' he whispered, 'I'm not going to let you do this alone. We're in this together.' She stopped suddenly, frozen at his words, her eyes locked on his, desperately trying to see a lie—but finding nothing but honesty in his steel blue gaze.

And that broke her.

She sank into his embrace, crying freely—allowing him in; just a little bit.

.

.

.

Killian wasn't sure how long they'd been in there—nor did he really know how long he'd been holding Emma while she cried, sobbed and then quieted down, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. She had not looked up at him once, nor had she given any indication that his attempts at soothing her were actually working—he didn't count their rather… Intimate position; the temperature had dropped dramatically, and he was pretty sure they'd be freezing to death soon; she was holding onto him to get warm, and he couldn't blame her.

'Emma?' he whispered, 'Feeling better, lass?'

She looked up and met his eye—and he couldn't look away. It almost felt as though they'd been spelled—he couldn't move away; he couldn't remember why he couldn't do this—all he wanted was to hold her closer, hug her tighter, never let her leave the safety of his embrace.

Goosebumps were jumping up on his skin wherever it touched hers, her eyes burning into his—she was leaning closer; wasn't she?

Was she—?

Oh. Bloody hell.

His breathing—along with hers—grew heavier, her breath washing over his lips, sending shivers down his spine.

Okay—he could do this; break the tension; just once. He just wanted to kiss her once.

Yes—he could do that; it would solve everything—the tension would be gone. All he had to do, was kiss her. He smiled as her breathing caught when he brushed his lips ever so softly over hers—they both nearly jumped apart at the strong, electric pulse that ran through their bodies as their lips touched; but his gaze never left hers. He cursed softly before leaning in again and pressing his lips against hers a little more forcefully.

Immediately, his thoughts took a very wrong turn, and though the kiss was supposed to have been gentle, innocent, the feelings that he had been suppressing ever since they met collided with the heated sensation of her soft, wet lips on his. He just exploded with a tsunami of emotions—emotions he had shut off almost three centuries ago.

They all just came rushing back to him, leaving him breathing heavily and gasping slightly. He could feel the hot, tingling sensation spreading through his body, originating from where Emma's hand was resting on his cheek, her fingers softly caressing his skin as she kissed him back with equal want and force.

Slowly, he leaned back, struggling to keep the smile on his face. He couldn't show anyone how much the gentle touch of Emma's lips had affected him. Or his lack of control over his libido and thoughts.
Emma looked at him with large eyes, obviously as affected by the kiss as he had been. He was utterly unable to tear his gaze from hers, highly aware of their proximity.

Unfortunately, the spell was broken when Emma's eyes strayed from his and widened considerably. 'No way!' She exclaimed, jumping from his lap, 'No fucking way!'

He frowned at her apparent astonishment and followed her gaze to the entrance of the cell, feeling his own mouth fall open—Bloody hell.

The bars that had risen when Cora conjured them, cutting off their escape, keeping them locked in the cell, were gone. The freezing temperature that had damn well nearly killed them was gone; broken.

They could leave.

The spell, the curse—whatever the hell it was that was keeping them in there—was gone.

He struggled to get to his feet, feeling unsteady on his feet as it was, his gaze fixed upon the spot that had been barred not even five minutes ago.

Five minutes.

Before…

Before he kissed Emma.

No.

No—it wasn't possible.

Was it?

His eyes met Emma's, and he could see his own questions, doubts and fears mirrored in her green eyes.

Could it truly have been…

Was it possible?

They both knew there w as only one way to break an enchantment such as the one that kept them locked in the cage.

True Love's kiss.

He licked his lower lip slowly, afraid to think of the possibilities.

Bloody hell.

R&R, people!

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