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Hold On Tonight

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It's a wallowing sorrow that overtakes him in the evening, hateful thoughts about why he hadn't just grabbed her and kissed her senseless when he'd had the chance. He hates that he hadn't even tried, that being so close to her had become the norm and, yet, something as simple as a kiss had slipped through their fingertips on so many occasions. He sips at his rum, relishing in the burn of the alcohol and wishing it would hurry up and take its effect so he doesn't have to think about everything he's missing with Emma right now.

He can see the openness in her eyes and is starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, she's beginning to reciprocate his love. And it kills him that it hadn't happened sooner.

The rest of the rum slides down his throat with ease and he goes to his flask for a refill only to find the damn thing empty. He'll regret it later, the burst of anger, but in the moment it's his only release and so he picks up the drained glass and throws it against the nearest wall, watching as it shatters and sends shards of broken glass flying around the room. It does nothing to relieve the ache in his heart.

There's a knock on the door and he considers just letting it go, but he knows exactly who it'll be and knows she won't give up until the door comes crashing down. So with great reluctance he unlocks it and lets Emma Swan walk into his room, her entire body on alert.

"You're alone?"

It shouldn't hurt as much as it does, "Aye." He sighs, "The rum and I had a disagreement, I'm truly fine."

She relaxes a little, stepping further into the room. "Well, as long as no one's turning another man in my life into a monkey…" she says it like it's a joke and he realises it probably would be funny if he didn't feel so numb. He's been goading her about her simian boyfriend for weeks now.

When he doesn't respond, she walks over to where the broken glass lies, shattered in a million pieces on the floor, "I want to understand what's going on with you."

He tilts his head in question, "There's nothing, lass. Just an old pirate's frustration."

Her boot toes one of the larger pieces of glass, "Yesterday you would have come to dinner, tonight you didn't. And I can't read why." Her eyes are downcast, search the ground for her answers, "I can tell when you're lying to me, but you can always tell exactly what I'm thinking and I wish I had that right now."

Against his better judgement, he steps in closer to her, careful to keep some distance, but needing her to understand. He reaches out cautiously with his hook and tilts her head up so he can gaze upon those confused eyes. "Just know that you can trust me."

She mirrors his actions, her hand resting against his cheek, thumb stroking the scar on his skin, "I've been telling Henry the same thing to protect him, been saying that it's all for his own good that he's kept in the dark. I've been asking him to trust me with my lies and I know you're just doing the same." She seems to be impossibly close now, "I trust you."

Their breaths are heavy between them, laboured and full of possibility.

And any other day, he would close the gap. Because he can feel it, can see it, can almost taste it. She's ready for him, but he can't be what she needs.

Her eyes flick to his, then flutter closed, her breath hitching.

And then he turns his head, pulling away with a heartbreaking step. When her eyes open again, the confusion is stronger and he can see that he's hurt her. Emma Swan: the lost girl who can't have her heart taken from her but is more than used to having it ripped out.

Her eyes sadden, but don't harden and that is the only thing he can consider his blessing at the moment.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" She phrases it as a question, but he knows she doesn't expect an answer.

"It's best you don't know."

She knows there's nothing more she can get from him today, knows that he'll keep his lips sealed to protect her at any cost. (If only she knew how accurate that was.)

"I should go back to Henry. He thinks I was using the sound of your glass smashing as an excuse to come over here and kiss you." A humourless laugh escapes her, as she shrugs, "I almost thought it too."

He swallows and keeps his mouth shut as she turns away from him, disappointed and hurt. But his resolve breaks as she opens the door, his voice calling out to her with nothing to say but her name. "Emma."

She turns around, hope written all over her. But Killian's voice fails him. How do you tell the truth to the person you love when the truth will hurt everyone she holds dear?

The conflict in him must be evident though, because she takes one last tentative step towards him, making sure she's looking him in the eye before saying, "Just don't leave me, okay?"

It's the last thing he would do to her. If that's all there was to be concerned about, she wouldn't ever have to fear again, "I never will."

She nods, taking that small assurance from him and knowing it counts for so much. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

The door closes with a heavy thud as Killian stands in the middle of his room watching the saviour go. There's something in their simple exchange that gives him hope. Even pushing her away can't break them and that's something the wicked witch couldn't have foreseen.

In fact, it's something he will fight even harder to protect.

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