…

It's About Compromise

…

Snow's safe and holed up in the hospital and, while Emma had been reluctant to leave her mother's side, she knows Regina will keep her safe while she goes home to rest up for the battle that is surely coming.

She comes into the hotel room at Granny's quietly, unsure if Henry will still be awake. She should know better though – the kid is sitting on the couch flicking through the book of fairy tales that started it all. In their cursed year, Emma had become accustomed to seeing her son playing any number of video games by night. But she's missed this. Her son, the truest believer, believing again.

"Where are you up to?" she asks, pulling her coat from her shoulders and laying it on the back of the couch.

He looks up at her and smiles, "There are new stories in here. I'm just reading about the cursed year."

She picks up the book at the page Henry has opened, wondering at how that's even possible. But her questions stop when she sees Killian Jones staring up at her from the paper. Her lips pursed, she reads the passage on the opposite page, a tale of how a bird had landed at his helm with a message to find the saviour and bring her to Storybrooke.

She swallows, trying to ignore the stirrings of feelings in her chest, and puts the book back down.

"You should give him a chance, you know?" Henry says, breaking her reverie.

Emma's arm comes to rest around her son's shoulders, "You know what? We had it pretty good in New York, just you and me."

But Henry's insistent, "Mom, you can't do this. You can't ignore it. He's a good man."

Her eyebrows raise at that, "He tried to take you away from here without a single consideration as to what that would do to me."

"Only because I was going to leave anyway."

Emma looks down at that, meeting Henry's gaze, "What?"

"Killian caught me trying to leave. He didn't think it was wise that I go alone. He was trying to protect me."

She loves that Killian thought to protect her son, but there's still that part of her that is a little lost girl expecting everyone to hurt her so she tries one more time to steer the conversation away from the pirate, "I'm just glad you're safe."

But Henry pushes her away, "Mom, I'm serious. Go to him."

She sighs, once again questioning to the universe how her son got so smart, and stands up, "Okay."

…

She finds him in the diner, his flask in front of him like some sort of talisman of his bitterness. The cork is still in place and she finds that odd.

"Rum not solving your problem tonight?"

He looks up with sad eyes, expecting the worst, "Not tonight, lass."

She slides into the booth, sitting across from him and picking up the flask, uncorking it with her magic and taking a swig, "Henry sent me down to talk to you. Said that you were only trying to protect him and that I should give you a chance."

The flask is back in his ball court, but still he refuses to drink from it, needing a clear mind, "You have a smart boy." His voice is almost angry and definitely more than slightly frustrated.

"You know, of all the people in my life, you are the one I want to believe in the most. I want to turn around and see you there, backing me up. I don't know how it happened, but you became my partner." She reaches out to rest her hand atop his across the table, "You've got to stop lying to me, stop making decisions for me. We're a team, okay? Because without that definition, we just go back to our old ways, we go it alone."

Killian can see the sincerity in her eyes and bows his head in agreement. But he knows that there are things he must say, things he needs to get out as well. If this is to be about them being a team, then Emma must listen as well.

"I would do anything for you, Emma. And I believe I have shown that to be true. I believe that you can tell when I am lying and when I am being honest. I've asked you to trust me, but you need to trust yourself as well." He turns his hand over in hers, grasping her fingers and bringing them to his lips to press a kiss against her knuckles. "Emma," he whispers, "Listen to your heart. I know it's telling you what's right."

She can feel her eyes fluttering at the low gravel of his voice and she wishes he was closer to her. But perhaps the distance is good, considering the curse on his lips – she's not sure she'd be able to resist him.

"My heart tells me to trust you. I'm just… There's so much going on. I was so scared for Henry that I became angry at you."

A humourless laugh escapes him, "I've been sitting here pondering how angry I was at you for letting one moment of misplaced good-will define your trust of me."

She squeezes his hand, "And what conclusion did you draw?"

"I'm a pirate, lass. I was murderously angry. But it only came out of fear of losing you, of you letting me go."

They sit in silence for a while at his admission, both sets of eyes focussed on their joined hands moving over one another, fingers tracing lines and patterns on their skin. It's a moment of peace in a crazy time of turmoil and they savour it.

Emma eventually stands, not letting her hand come apart from his, pulling him up as well. "It's crazy, really."

He shifts into her touch, watching as her free hand moves up his other arm, coming to rest at the back of his neck. "What's that?"

Her eyes meet his, "How far a little conversation can go."

Taking his cues from her, his hands, real and fake, come to rest on her hips as their bodies draw closer and closer. "Emma," he says, worry in his tone.

She smiles, "It's okay. We can save the kiss for the victory celebrations."

Instead, she bypasses his lips to let her head rest on his shoulder, her arms curling tighter around him, their bodies rocking slightly, not used to staying still.

He drops a kiss to the top of her head, "Or we could try for True Love."

She stiffens against him for a moment but, as he keeps rocking and doesn't push the topic any further, she realises that he's leaving it in her hands. He's telling her his feelings and leaving the rest up to her. The panic that had hit her initially dissipates within seconds and she leans up to press her lips to his jaw.

"Baby steps, Killian. Today trust, maybe tomorrow we can talk about love."

He's more than happy to make that compromise.

…

Thoughts?