The Return Home

Killian Jones stood at the bow of his ship and listened to the sound of the waves lapping softly against the hull. Storybrooke harbour spread out before him, a vast ocean of black ink. Those waters had taken him on a thousand different adventures, each one more dangerous and thrilling than the last. He'd seen the greatest wonders the world could offer and learned the brutal truth of how loneliness could destroy a man. In all that time he'd never considered another path, but tonight the land called to him with a quiet, unassuming voice.

He knew the reason well. From the moment a certain fair-haired lass had entered his world, nothing had been the same. Through sheer force of will, Emma Swan had reminded him of what it meant to fight for someone with everything that you have, to live from one day to the next concerned with only another's happiness. She was the sort of woman who made a man question where he was going and where he'd been. He'd questioned a lot of things since meeting her – about his desire for revenge and the sort of man he wanted to be – and tonight was no exception.

Killian raked his fingers through his hair and then rubbed at the back of his neck. He hadn't slept a single good night since arriving in this bloody town and doubted he would until he saw her again. She would come to him eventually, he was certain of it. 'Til then all he could do was wait, but by God it was torture. Knowing she was so close yet still out of reach, knowing that she was spending time with Baelfire – Neal – while he waited dutifully on his ship, made the days feel long and the nights even longer. He'd never considered himself a jealous sort of man, but perhaps there was a first time for everything.

His hand curled reflexively around the aged wood railing in front of him and he expelled a ragged sigh. Were it anyone but her, he would've hoisted anchor and been on his way moments after arriving in this insufferable place. She'd left him with no promise, no real assurance of her affections apart from a heated kiss shared below deck, but he couldn't leave without knowing. As 'Captain Hook' he'd accumulated a long list of regrets, but Emma Swan would not be one of them.

A changing of the winds rattled the sails above his head and brought the soft sound of footfall from the docks to his ears. The steady pace, the slight echo of a heel - was it possible? His stomach did a nervous flip and he moved to the side of his ship. Resting against the railing, he feigned a casual air and peered down at the dock. Her pale face stared back up at him wearing a shy smile and the breath momentarily stalled in his lungs. He'd never seen a more welcome sight.

"Evening, lass! Something I might be able to help you with?" he called down to her, sounding far more at ease than he felt.

"Permission to come aboard?"

An uncontrollable grin spread across his mouth, "Permission granted."

She made quick work of the stairs, expelling a sharp sigh as she hopped off the last step and onto the deck. The urge to pull her into his arms was strong, but he hid his clenched fist in the folds of his jacket and took a step back. He couldn't make any assumptions. After all, she might have come to tell him 'good-bye' and what sort of fool would he be then with his arms wrapped around her like some lovesick pup?

"How's Henry?" he inquired, surprised to find that he actually did care. It was a natural enough reflex, he supposed, after spending days on end risking life and limb to bring the boy home.

"He's good!" The note of cheer in her tone rang false and she glanced away. "He's…staying with Regina tonight."

"I can't imagine that's easy for you," he ventured, drawing closer.

Her shoulders lifted in a helpless gesture and she tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. He recognized that look - the one she used when she was trying to pretend that something didn't bother her when it did. He wanted nothing more than to fold his arms around her and ease away that worried frown with a soft touch. He crossed his arms in front of his chest instead and rested his shoulder against the wooden mast of his ship.

"Regina's his mother, too," she countered. "Besides, it was Henry's idea."

Ah, so that was the rub. Emma Swan was afraid of very few things in this world, but losing the love of her son was at the top of her list.

"It must be hard for the boy," he commiserated, idly stroking the stubble along his jaw. "He has two mothers who love him and no matter whom he chooses to stay with he'll inevitably hurt the other."

Emma's brows furrowed until a deep crease formed between them. "I hadn't thought of it like that," she admitted quietly. Moving to the railing of his ship, she leaned back against it and fixed him with an uncertain look.

"Well, love, I'm no expert but I've seen how the boy looks at you. In his eyes, you are every bit the mother Regina is. He's only trying to do the best by both of you."

Emma nodded, her expression softening with relief. "Thank you."

"For?"

"You always seem to know exactly what I need to hear." A shaky smile lifted the corners of her mouth but soon faded. "I'm going to miss that."

"Are you expecting me to be going somewhere?"

When she couldn't seem to meet his eye his expression fell and his stomach clenched into uneasy knots. No. The plea circulated through his head, sounding as desperate as it was futile. His eyes followed her as she moved away from the railing, looking for some sign that he was wrong. Her lips pressed tightly together and she wrapped her arms around herself like a shield. Damn his intuition. Killian closed his eyes in silent defeat, knowing before she spoke a single word what would come next.

"I can't ask you to stay, Hook."

He released the breath he'd been holding and opened his eyes. So, this was 'good-bye', then. If she'd slipped a dull blade between his ribs it would've hurt less than this. He grimaced at the sudden ache in the centre of his chest and called out to her.

Perhaps it was only a trick of the moonlight, but he thought he saw tears glistening in her eyes when she turned to face him.

"I thought about what you said before and you're right - this town isn't meant for someone like you. It's not meant for someone like me either. Truth is neither of us really belongs here. I just wish-" She paused as her voice caught and brushed a stray tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.

"I wish that I could go with you, but I can't."

He'd been in this same place many years ago, on the night Milah begged him to take her away. She'd cried bitterly into his shoulder, yet refused his persistent offers to retrieve Baelfire and bring him along. "A pirate ship is no place for a young boy," she'd told him with an adamant shake of her head. That night Milah had put her own happiness first – she'd chosen him over her family, and he'd let her because he was young and selfish and in love.

Three hundred years later history was repeating, but the woman he loved was prepared to make an entirely different choice. And he would let her, because it was the right thing to do.

"Henry needs me right now and I need him," Emma explained with a withering look. "I'm sorry."

"I know," he managed to say as shock flooded through him.

In one of the rare moments in his life, words failed him. Here she was, apologizing – apologizing – to him for not being able to go with him, for needing to put her son first. He was a bloody idiot after all for not reassuring her, for not telling her before that he would always be there. He opened his mouth to speak but a lump rose into his throat, cutting off any sort of intelligible response.

He reached out instead and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers skimmed across her cheek as he pulled his hand away and that faint touch sent a tingle of awareness rushing down his spine. For weeks now he'd longed to have that sort of familiarity with her, where such a simple gesture took no thought at all.

"It's true - this ship has been my home for centuries. I can't imagine life without her," he conceded with a wistful glance about the deck.

She nodded understandingly and tried to step away but he slipped his hook around her arm and gently tugged her back.

"But a certain lass suggested I might try giving up piracy for a while and it seems she had an interesting idea."

A cautious flicker of hope cut across Emma's features. "What are you saying?"

He leaned in closer until the warmth of her breath tickled his cheek. Her eyes peered up into his, wide and searching, gleaming like two emeralds in the moonlight. Unable to resist touching her again, he wound a lock of her golden hair around his finger and brought it to his lips. He took his time with his next words, certain that they were more clear and heartfelt than any he'd ever spoken.

"It's no secret that I love you, Emma. I have loved you from the moment you tied me to a tree, held a knife to my throat and threatened to feed me to an ogre."

A surprised laugh burst from her lips and he felt his own pull back into a boyish grin. As first meetings went, they couldn't have done much worse. Not wanting to lose the moment, he caressed the side of her face in a gesture he'd dreamt of doing a thousand times.

"We make a good team, you and I, and good partners are damned hard to find. Rest assured, love, I'm not going anywhere."

Her eyes reluctantly slid over to the town. "But you hate this place," she countered pitifully.

"I imagine it grows on you after a while," he reasoned with a crooked smile.

Her face pinched into an expression torn between pain and relief and she fell against him then, her arms wrapping tight around his back. He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes, memorizing the feel of her warm, solid body against his. She smelt of sea salt and rosemary and...home. He gripped her tighter knowing that in his arms was the future that had so long eluded him.

"Tell me to stay, Emma."

She pulled back and dragged his mouth down to hers, kissing him with an intensity that stirred up memories of their first dalliance. That kiss had taken him by surprise, left him breathless and weak in the knees. This time he caught her against him and held her close, conscious of the ache in his chest and determined to memorize the feel of her lips against his. She whispered something and it was a moment before he heard, before he understood. A single word, repeated over and over again like a plea.

Stay.

His heart soared and he kissed her again, just to taste that word on her lips. Stay. She wanted him to stay. He felt like a boy again, filled to the brim with hope and possibility. He pulled away, breathless, and took her by the hand.

"Let's go inside, shall we?"

She didn't hesitate to follow him as he led her down the short flight of stairs to the Captain's quarters. There, she waited patiently by the ladder while he went about lighting the various lanterns hanging from the walls.

"This is nice," she said, her eyes travelling about the uncluttered space.

"Well, it's home," he replied with a light shrug and blew out the taper in his hand.

He felt a sort of unfamiliar vulnerability as she moved about his space, studying different objects, picking some up and setting them back down. Aside from Milah, he'd never brought another woman to this part of the ship. Every one of his secrets was here, tucked away from the world. And here she was exploring them, looking at the artefacts of his life with the sort of casual appreciation one has when walking through a museum.

Her gaze eventually settled on a small pile of books resting next to his bed. She picked up the volume laying askew across the top and examined its cover.

"Moby Dick?" She lifted a curious brow and flipped through the weathered pages.

"It's a good sea tale," he told her with a note of defensiveness.

She smiled secretively and set the book back where she'd found it. Crossing the room, she slid her hands up his chest and wound them loosely around his neck.

His hand went instinctively to her waist and he arched his head back to study her in the dim lantern light. "Does it surprise you that I enjoy reading from time to time?"

"Not many things surprise me about you anymore."

"Careful, love, or you'll make me sound boring and predictable," he teased with a lopsided grin. The familiar scent of her filled his nose and he drew closer, intending to continue where they'd left off above deck.

"I doubt that you could ever be either."

His brow gave a little twitch and he smiled down at her, certain he could spend the rest of his days searching all the realms and never find another woman as intriguing as her. But it wasn't enough simply to want her. He needed to know that she wanted him, too, and not just for another dalliance.

"Emma," he prodded, keenly aware of the anxious knot growing in the pit of his stomach, "Is this truly what you want? From me, I mean."

She went quiet, understanding what he was asking. A soft sigh left her lips and her hands fell away from his neck. He clenched his jaw, resigned to the worst.

"I don't take leaps of faith; I don't let people in," she explained, the reluctant acceptance in her tone apparent. Her eyes avoided his but her hand came to rest atop his arm, a constant, reassuring pressure.

"Growing up I knew that I was unwanted, that I was no one's first choice. I got used to the idea but then there were times when…I'd take a chance and let someone in. I always wound up hurt in the end.

She swallowed hard and her hand curled into the loose fabric of his sleeve as she remembered the sting of old pain. His thumb gently grazed her cheek in a comforting gesture and her eyes met his, the expression in them disarmingly vulnerable.

"Eventually I got used to the idea of being alone and stopped letting people in. For a while it was easier that way. I couldn't get hurt and others couldn't hurt me. But living like that - it's empty, meaningless. You've been there, you understand."

"Aye," he replied, his voice rough. He knew all too well what it felt like to be betrayed, left behind and forgotten. It pained him to know how much of her life had been spent suffering the ache of loneliness. If he had his way, she'd never have cause to feel unwanted or unloved again.

With a deep breath and a shake of her head, Emma blinked away the shadows of her past.

"I think maybe it's time I take that leap of faith Gold was talking about."

He swallowed thickly and felt his heart clench inside his chest. "And you're certain I'm the best choice for such an experiment?"

A timid smile trembled across her lips and she boldly lifted her eyes to his. "I've never felt more certain about anything in my life."

The breath he'd been holding escaped his lungs in a rush and his mouth widened into an unstoppable, jubilant grin.

"Love, you have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that."

Her features lightened at his response, her expression mirroring his, "I might have some idea."

He stopped smiling long enough to kiss her in a move that felt so blessedly natural he wondered if he'd died on Neverland and this was his wholly undeserved reward. Her fingers tightened around his shirt collar and tugged him closer.

"You and I have some unfinished business," he said, his voice dropping lower.

"Do we?"

He bowed his head to nuzzle the side of her neck and her fingers made quick work of the clasps on his vest. The garment fell to the floor and his shirt was soon pulled loose from his pants. A satisfied noise sounded in the back of her throat and then her hot mouth descended on the exposed skin of his chest, mapping it with kisses.

"Please tell me you left Mary Margaret at home," he pleaded, his eyes drifting closed as her lips explored a sensitive spot on the side of his neck. She laughed lightly, her warm breath cascading over his skin.

"I promise it's just us."

His fingers slipped through her hair, the golden strands sliding like silk across his skin. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her tenderly, feeling no need to rush. Tonight he would take his time. After waiting this long, he fully intended to show her exactly what she'd been missing.

With a soft mewl of delight her mouth opened under his, inviting him in with a tempting sweep of her tongue. He went willingly, nearly losing himself to the careful rhythm that quickly developed. Just as before their kiss built to a frantic almost feverish pitch that left them pulling at each others' clothes and uttering soft groans into the night. Before long she'd wrapped her leg firmly around his waist – or had he done that himself? – and his hips were rocking against her core.

With an impatient grunt, he lifted her other leg around his waist and he carried her to the bed. He set her down atop the sheets and she eagerly pulled him down with her. The feel of her beneath him was a sobering moment. He pulled back and took a breath, stealing the chance to admire the view.

In front of him was a vision he'd only dared dream before now. Emma Swan stretched out across his tiny cot, her hair tousled about her head, her eyes bright with anticipation and her cheeks bathed in a light pink flush. She reached for him, her hands slipping beneath his shirt to skim his sides and quietly thanked God for his good fortune.

"You're beautiful," he said sincerely, his voice low and soft. "Absolutely beautiful, Swan."

A flash of nervous uncertainty crossed her features and then she sat up, her hands coming to either side of his face. She held his gaze, the warmth in her eyes catching him by surprise, and then she closed the distance between them, kissing him slowly and deliberately. She paused just long enough to gently pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him naked from the waist up.

With a disapproving cluck of his tongue he plucked at the hem of her shirt. "It hardly seems fair, love. Here I am shivering in the cold while you remain hidden under all those clothes."

"Stop being such a baby," she retorted and with a shift of her hips had him on his back.

His hand moved boldly up the length of her thigh, feeling the subtle tightening of the muscles beneath her skin. He dared not admit just how often he'd envisioned those those legs wrapped around his waist, those thighs his head… Her body shifted, gliding over the steadily hardening bulge in his pants and he groaned in spite of himself.

"That's not very nice," he protested, biting his lip to stifle another groan as she rocked against him once more.

"Nice is boring."

He chuckled darkly and took hold of her hips, pulling her flush against him as he thrust upward off the bed. She gasped at the sudden contact and her eyes fluttered shut.

"Two can play at that game, love."

"You couldn't handle it," she shot back and pulled her shirt up over her head.

The garment met the floor with a soft 'whump' and for a moment he could do little more than stare in awe at the woman before him. Haloed by the dim lamplight she looked positively radiant. He brushed a tentative hand down her arm, marvelling at the creamy texture of her skin. He'd never be able to let her go after this. With a single glance she'd left him well and truly besotted.

"Killian?"

He stirred, catching her questioning glance, and lightly shook his head.

"Can't blame a man for stopping to admire the view," he reasoned, gently tugging her towards him. "Rest assured, lass, it's positively breathtaking."

A faint blush crept up her neck and he grinned as his lips passed over it.

"Do you ever stop flirting?"

"No," he admitted, pressing a kiss to the column of her throat. "I've tried, but it's impossible around you, Swan."

He was certain he heard her mutter something unladylike under her breath but in the next moment he lost all focus entirely. While her mouth left a trail of open-mouthed kissed down the naked skin of his chest, her hand slipped between them. His hips bucked automatically at the feel of her soft touch stroking him through his pants. Her light, teasing touch promised nothing short of endless pleasure if it weren't for his damned pants. Frustrated and overeager, he fumbled with his stays in a vain effort to loosen them.

"Need some help?"

She didn't wait for a response before pushing his hand away and slipping the ties loose one by one. He swallowed hard as the last of the laces fell free and her hand delved into his pants, wrapping gently around him. When she began to stroke him, slowly, confidently, his head fell back against the pillow. He was her willing victim, his hips helplessly thrusting into her hand as became impossibly hard. The thought of being inside of her, wrapped up in her, left him throbbing and his hand clutching desperately at the sheets.

"Emma," he ground out, his breaths coming short and fast. "Please."

She reluctantly released him and crawled slowly up his body, leaving a trail of wet kisses behind on his stomach, his chest and finally his neck. When her lips were within reach his mouth crashed onto hers, his need too demanding to allow for anything more gentle.

He rolled her beneath and set to work teasing and exploring every delectable inch of her. Her fingers tunnelled into his hair, urging him this way or that, harder or softer, with a gentle tug. With a little help he managed to remove her pants and then settled between her thighs. What he'd wanted, more than anything, was to taste her and with several well placed strokes of his tongue she was squirming beneath him.

"Killian, that's…"

Words failed her as her body arched off the bed and into his mouth. He slid his hand over her hips, holding her tight as they lifted and squirmed beneath him. Giving up on his hair, she gripped the sheets instead, her breaths coming shorter, faster, more erratic to match the pace of his tongue. He brought her to the brink and then pulled back, watching with satisfaction as she twitched and shifted impatiently in search of release.

"Why'd you stop?" she pouted.

"Because when I make you come, Emma, I want to feel it."

It was selfish of him, he knew, but he wanted her to be inside her when she fell apart around him. He wanted to be the one to make her lose control and to hold her in his arms when it was all over. He settled himself at her entrance and then lifted his eyes to hers. Do you want this? Emma nibbled at her bottom lip and then answered his unspoken question with a faint nod of her head. He wasn't even aware of the breath of relief that rushed out of his lungs, only the feel of her hands on the side of his face and to touch of her lips against his.

Since meeting her he'd had more dreams than he could count that ended like this, but no fantasy could have prepared him for that first thrust. It stole a shaky moan from his throat and he bowed his head, eyes shut tight in an effort to regain control. By God she felt like heaven. Her legs hooked loosely over his hips and her hands slid up the taught muscles of his back, urging him closer. He rocked against her, forcing a soft sigh from her lips, and she changed the angle of her hips, pulling him deeper.

It was a struggle to focus on something other than the feeling of her innermost muscles clenching him tight, or how the slick wet heat of her core wrapped so completely around him. With every move of his hips he felt like he would break and then she'd do something like grab him and pull him tight against her or softly moan his name and he would find himself fighting a losing battle for control.

"Emma, love, I can't-"

He groaned pitifully as her mouth found a particularly sensitive spot on the side of his neck and her fingers dug into his shoulders.

"It's okay," she whispered frantically. "I'm-"

And then she gripped him tight and then he felt it – the tremors rocking through her, her body fluttering and clenching tight all around him. He cursed softly and found the strength to move inside of her twice more before following her into oblivion. He was dimly aware of the strangled sound of her name on his lips and the soothing touch of her hand in his hair when he collapsed, spent, against her chest.

They lay like that for a long while, until he realized that he was likely crushing her and reluctantly picked his body up off of hers. She looked disappointed when he sat up but her features softened when he tucked her against his side as though she'd always belonged there. Her fingers played idly with the hair on his chest while his gently stroked the length of her spine.

"Will you stay?" he asked softly, wincing at how the roughness of his voice broke the comfortable silence.

She tilted her head and smiled up at him, looking perfectly at ease, "I will if you will."

"Well, I guess it's settled then."

A victorious smile curled his lips upwards and he pressed a soft kiss into her hair. Aye, he would stay. There was no question in his mind. In his arms rested the woman who'd given him back his life, who'd given him a purpose and a future. He would move heaven and earth itself to remain by her side. Killian's eyes softened as he glanced down at Emma's sleeping form curled trustingly at his side. After 300 years of searching, he'd found his home.

Author's Note: The prequel to this little fic "Partners in Crime" had such a great response I had to continue the story. I hope you guys enjoyed the follow up! Any thoughts/comments are welcome. I loved reading your reviews of the last one :)