They were sitting close to the fireplace in her room at Granny's, examining tens of books, which, as they were hoping, would offer them a magical solution to their wicked problem. Moving closer to the fireside was her idea, since this winter was colder than the ones before, or at least that's how she'd experienced it during this particular year. But sitting here, with him, made her forget about the cold outside, even if only for a moment. As she looked at him, her eyes wandering down to his bare chest, she couldn't help but wonder how he didn't freeze like this. It was only after a while that she noticed she was staring. Emma blushed a little and forced herself to look away. But something was wrong. When she side-eyed him under her thick eyelashes, hesitant yet curious about his reaction, she figured that he hadn't even notice it, his eyes looking distantly into the dancing flames. His brows were furrowed in deep distress, his usually pink lips and cheeks looked blood-drained and pale. She had never seen him like this before, this distant and vacant; just broken, she thought. Emma wished he wouldn't refuse to talk about it… but there must be a way to make him speak, she thought.

"Any answers in the fire?" she asked. "Hm?" Killian blinked as if he was awakening from a daydream.

"Did the flames speak to you?" she smiled, teasing him. "You looked as if you were telepathically talking to the fire." Killian forced himself to smile.

"Uh, no, it's just the lack of sleep, I suppose," he answered with a low voice, just to turn his head back to the fireside again. Emma sighed. How did he become so uncommunicative all of a sudden? While she was still looking at him, he reached out for his glass of bourbon, revealing his tattoo on his right forearm. 'The tattoo!' she remembered. Maybe that was the key to make him talk.

"Killian?" He looked over to her, still unfamiliar with her calling him by his actual name. "You never really told me the story behind that," her eyes pointing to his tattoo and his gaze following hers. She noticed how his face got even darker now, still refusing to say a word. "Oh come on, don't you think it's unfair?"

"What do you mean?" He raised a brow now.

"You basically know every detail about my past and all I know is that you've lost your brother and chased Gold for 300 years because of a woman you don't wanna talk about. That's not exactly the definition of leveling the playing-field."

"The story is not of consequence for the moment," was his short reply after he lowered the glass from his lips. Emma tried to hide her frustration.

"So you really don't want to talk about it?"

"About which one? The tattoo or my lack in communication?"

'Both,' Emma thought. But she knew he wouldn't talk about the last one, not until she made him speak about something else first. She had to crack those walls. Being a person who hid behind said walls for the most part of her life, she knew what she was talking about. "The tattoo," she answered.

Killian sighed deeply, his eyes shut. When he opened them again, all he said was, "You already know everything there is to tell about. She was Baelfire's mother, Rumpelstiltskin's wife, we fell in love, she died, I got the ink, end of story." Emma raised a brow, feeling slightly mad now.

"Really?" she said. Killian looked over to her, his face reflecting confusion.

"Why do you even care, Swan?" he almost whispered. Emma blinked at the surprise of the question. Why did she, indeed? Something had changed since the day they had buried Neal, something that felt like finally dropping a big rock she was carrying on her shoulders for years now. The loss of the weight made her feel lighter, as if she was able to breathe again, for the first time in years. And as she looked him in the eyes, the depths of them reminding her of the deep blue ocean right after a storm, she realized, he was part of the reason she felt this way. She didn't care about anyone's past, before, she wasn't the curious type when it came to privacy. But he made her ask questions; about him she wanted to know everything there was to know about. So yes, she knew exactly why she cared.

"I just do," was her only answer, though, sincerity in her gaze.

"Swan…" he whispered again before he took a big slug of his whiskey. Then he repeatedly shut his eyes, the back of his hand wandering to his forehead while he was still holding the glass. Emma thought it looked as if he was battling a fight inside of his head. Then, finally, he opened his eyes and sighed.

"What do you want to know?" Emma grinned.

"Well, why did you get the tattoo in the first place?" Killian sighed once more. This, his Milah… was a sensitive subject to talk about, but at least he could talk about this without hurting anyone - but himself.

"When Milah… passed away, when I lost her forever, I simply wanted to honor her, keep a part of her with me for eternity. It was only her name and a heart, at the beginning. Then I met Baelfire and I learned about the dagger that controlled the Dark One. It wasn't until I lost Bealfire, too, that I realized that my only chance to ever escape the dark was by killing the Dark One." Emma swallowed hard at him emphasizing the last few words. She didn't want to get reminded of this part of the story but she had asked for it and he was finally talking. She looked at him, his face glowing with sadness, reflecting the red light of the flames that he was still facing. He looked down to his tattoo now, a blade stuck into a fenced heart.

"I decided to add the dagger to the tattoo as an eternal reminder of my revenge. It was supposed to remind me of the cruel murder of my love, every single day for the rest of my life."

"You only tortured yourself," Emma said with a low voice, compassion in it, but Killian only shook his head.

"No. I had to do it. I couldn't save her but I could avenge her."

"Yet, you didn't do it." Killian smiled a bitter smile.

"Aye." 'If it wasn't for you…' he thought, not able to look her in the eyes. Emma only shook her head.

"I still don't get it. I mean, I understand the need for revenge and all, but 300 years? Seriously? Didn't you ever find another woman you liked enough to get over her? What was even so special about her?"

"That's the thing with true love, I suppose," he smiled. "An average person has the chance to find this kind of love only once in a lifetime. You don't just overcome that sort of love. It stays with you, forever. Even if one part of you dies with the person you've lost… the other part never stops aching for its missing piece." He looked over to Emma and saw the furrowed lines on her forehead, her eyes blinking. For a moment he felt lost in her emerald gaze.

"Perhaps, since I haven't lived the life of an average person but exceeded my living days to not one but three lifetimes, I happened to find another silver lining on the horizon." He bit his lip, screaming at himself in his head. He had promised himself not to say such things to her anymore, not with the curse on his lips. Still frowning about the words he had just said, he heard how Emma got on her feet. He knew he had chosen the wrong words, he knew he had scared her off, as he usually did. When he looked up to her, his eyes troubled and sad, she smiled at him, offering him her hand.

"Get up. Wanna share a cup of happiness, downstairs?" Killian's eyes wandered from her hand back to her welcoming face and as he watched her, he couldn't help but return the smile. This woman was incredible, he thought, she was worth all of this pain. She was worth getting fought for and walking through hell to keep her and her loved ones safe. He wouldn't tell her about the curse, that he was sure of, but he would allow himself this split second of felicity, this moment of insouciance. He would allow himself to take her offer - to take her hand.