.

"I'll sing it one last time for you

Then we really have to go

You've been the only thing that's right in all I've done.

And I can barely look at you, but every single time I do

I know we'll make it anywhere away from here

Light up, light up, as if you have a choice

Even if you cannot hear my voice

I'll be right beside you dear

Louder, louder, and we'll run for our lives"

-Snow Patrol

Emma woke first the next morning. It took her a moment to remember where she was, in her groggy state, but the presence of a warm body underneath her head and the strong arm draped over her hip provided a quick reminder. The night before came back to her all at once. The date. The rain. The…. Oh. Her hand reached up and rested next to her head on his chest. The skin was bare, as they'd each only donned their undergarments again before drifting off to sleep. A rhythmic heartbeat pulsed under her palm. She adjusted her position to look at him, gently resting her chin on his bare chest. Baelfire looked so peaceful in his sleep, as if the years and darkness he's experienced only existed during his waking hours. His dark hair was sticking up in all directions; whether mussed from sleep or from making love, she would never know. After a moment, his eyes flickered before opening part-way to peer at her through curtains of sleep. She merely smiled at him in response.

"What are you looking at?" was his half-awake greeting. He lazily trailed his hand along the bare skin on her side, teasing the sensitive spots with a tickle.

"Just the most handsome, brave, and wholehearted man I've ever had the pleasure of meeting." Her response came swiftly, and he chuckled softly.

"There must have been something in that hot cocoa last night."

"What? A girl can't give a man a compliment?"

Bae ignored her retort, instead, continuing with his train of thought, "The cinnamon. It must have been the cinnamon." He nodded in agreement with his own conclusion.

"Hey!" Emma protested, poking him gently in the side. He was more awake now, and he lifted himself up on his elbows while Emma moved to leaning on one elbow, facing him.

"I'm telling you, there's a reason I never liked the stuff!" At this point, he'd already forgotten where the conversation had started, merely enjoying teasing her. For a moment they fell into mutual silence, enjoying each other's company.

"It's the truth, you know." Emma said quietly, breaking the silence.

"What is?"

"You're the bravest man I know."

Bae's immediate reaction was to scoff at the idea. "You are," she said.

"Wouldn't the brave thing be to fight? To find a way to rid my life of this curse and to bring justice to my father?" He wouldn't look her in the eyes as he spoke, choosing instead to absentmindedly study the back of the bedroom door.

"It doesn't always have to be about making huge leaps and bounds or leading an army into battle, Bae. Sometimes bravery doesn't have to scream to be heard. Sometimes it just has to whisper. It's that little voice inside your head that reminds you that tomorrow is still there. And I have no doubt that you have that."

He didn't respond for a few moments, still staring straight ahead, but she could see him begin to struggle with his own emotions. His jaw tightened and his gaze became as sharp as an arrowhead, trying with everything he has to hold himself together. He had done it this long, certainly he could hold it in a little bit longer. But, he thought to himself, if there's anyone that deserves to see how he truly feels, it's Emma.

So he let go. Not all at once, but enough to let a few tears begin to roll down his face. Showing this sort of weakness wasn't something that he was familiar with, not recently. He instinctively bit down on his lower lip, trying to will himself to stop and hold it in, but Emma reached out and placed a hand on his back, and he released his lip and sighed deeply.

"It's just all like a bad dream," he finally said, his voice unusually husky with emotion. "And as hard as I try I just can't wake up from it." There were brief but heavy pauses after every few words, as if his own anger is making the words fall from his mouth like stones. He paused again, and for a moment Emma thought he might just close up again, but he continued, "At first, my mom tried to protect me, but soon it became clear that as much as she loved me, she loved him more. She'd rather be with this man than protect her own child… I guess I just had it in my head that when I came down here with them, the only reason I was dragged along was because she wanted me, because she didn't want to let me go. But now all I see is that slipping away… He's cruel to me. He'll do anything just to make sure his precious secret stays safe, and my mother doesn't have the guts to stand in his way… and I guess I don't either."

Wasn't that just the way of the world, for a good man to be burdened with a darkness even he cannot fathom, while the villains got off scot-free…

Emma slid her arm further around Bae's back, wrapping him in a hug, and his arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders to return the embrace.

"Don't give it up just yet." He felt her breath warm on his neck, where her head had nestled. "It's not hopeless. We'll figure it out."

"You and Robin keep telling me that. You keep saying that it's going to get better. But I want it to be better, right now. Just the thought of being here with this man… this… devil, while my father continues to pay for a crime he didn't commit…. It hurts. And no matter what I do, I can't change that. I can't fix it. And I can't make it stop hurting. And it's driving me insane."

"You know, if Wendy were here, she'd tell you that that's the thing about pain: it demands to be felt." Emma said, thinking of their book-nerd friend. "Come with us," she added suddenly, and he quickly pulled away from her and looked at her with narrowed eyes.

"What?"

"Me and Wendy. When we leave, come with us. We can do it discreetly, fly under the radar until we're far enough away that–"

"You really think it's that easy? It's not, Emma. He's smarter than that. We'd barely hit the town line before we'd have bullets in our heads."

She didn't have a response to that. They sat in troubled silence for a few moments before Bae said, "I'm sorry. We were having such a nice morning, after an even better night, and I just…"

"Hey, don't do that. You're allowed to hurt. Nothing about this situation is simple. But don't you don't have to apologize to me for anything, understand?" He nodded, and she continued, "Good. Now I'm going to go downstairs and make us some breakfast. So come down in a little bit." She leaned forward and placed a quick kiss to his mouth before standing, dressing in her now-dry clothes, and disappearing downstairs.

A few minutes later, Bae was also dressed in a clean pair of black gym shorts and a grey v-neck T-shirt. He padded down the wooden stairs with bare feet, expecting to see Emma rummaging around his little kitchen, searching for food that they probably did not have. However, the sight that greeted him made his heart sink and his throat tighten.

Emma stood in the kitchen, as expected. But, she was not rummaging around for food or cooking breakfast. Her back was pressed against the kitchen counter, and her legs moved as if they wanted to keep going backwards despite the fact that they'd reached the edge of the room. Standing but a few feet away from her was Jones, dressed in his usual black jacket. Even at a quick glance, it was easy to see that he was taunting Emma.

"Well, well," Jones said without turning away from the blonde. "Nice of you to join us, Neal. I was just introducing myself to your pretty little girlfriend here." To Neal, every word sounded like poison.

"What the hell's going on?" Neal tried to appear as levelheaded as it would take to make sure Jones didn't have any reason to harm Emma.

"Boy, you should have known better than to think you could get away with this. This girl, here," Jones finally turned to look at Neal, "she knows far too much for my liking. So now I've to decide how best to dispose of her." He began to walk sideways as he spoke, approaching the kitchen counter along the far wall.

"Killian, why are you doing this?"

"Because, quite frankly, I've grown to despise you, Neal." Killian sounded as if he were merely filling him in on current events or discussing the weather. "You see, your mother and I love each other very much. So much, in fact, that we wanted to run away together. Except it's not that simple because your father is not the sort of man to take something like that lightly. There's a reason so many people in Storybrooke are afraid of him, that man. So it wouldn't be that far reached to believe that he killed his own wife. That part of the plan was the easy part, believe it or not, because you see, the hard part… The part that drives me completely bonkers each and every day, is that she didn't want to leave her boy behind. She wanted to raise her son. And it's all your fault." He approached Neal, glaring daggers into his eyes. "It's your fault that this whole secret is so damn hard to keep hidden."

"Fine then, do what you want to me, but let her go!" Neal said with a pointed look at Emma.

"And what? Let her just go waltzing back home to Storybrooke to tell everyone the tale of the woman who faked her death and the man that helped her kidnap her own son? I think not, boy."

"You psychopath…" Neal was yelling now, his anger building.

"Oh, flattery will get you nowhere, boy."

Years later, when Neal would think about what happened next, it always played back in his mind in slow motion. Come to think of it, that's probably how he viewed it while it was happening, an angry adrenaline coursing through him and making time itself slow down, if only for a few horrible moments.

Neal and Emma watched as Jones pulled something out of his pocket, long and black and red in color… a lighter.

They watched as he flicked the object between his fingers and a tiny flame erupted from the metal.

And they watched as he grabbed the daily newspaper from its spot on the kitchen counter, lit it aflame, and tossed it to the dry, wooden floor boards by Emma's feet.

Eyes widened as the floor began catching fire, Neal was frozen in place for a moment. Then, the flames began to quickly overtake more and more of the dry floor boards. As it spread, he glanced between the growing fire and Emma, realizing that this was how Jones planned to get rid of her: by letting both of them go up in flames with the rest of the house.

Neal leapt across the room, quickly grabbing both of Emma's shoulders to get her to focus on him.

"Emma. Emma listen to me. You get out of here. You get out of here, go get Wendy, and go home."

At the words go home, Emma finally looked him in the eyes. "No. No, I'm not leaving without you. We can both get out. We can both go home."

"Emma, there's no time. I've got to stop him before he gets away. I need to know you're safe. I love you, and I will find my way back to you, I swear to God. But, please. Just. Get. Out." With that, he spun her around and pushed her in the direction of the nearest door, thankfully not yet completely blocked by flames. He turned back around and dashed through the burning room, towards the other side of the house where he'd seen Jones make his retreat. He found him in the hallway, lighter still in hand, ready to set the next thing on fire.

Without even considering his actions, Neal leapt at the older man. Jones tried to duck out of the way, but Neal still managed to knock him to the ground. Jones threw his arms up to fend off his attacker, but Neal was acting with a vengeance. With a swing of Neal's fist, Jones fell back to the floor once more and Neal wrestled the lighter out of his hands. It flew across the hall and clattered against the brittle floorboards.

It was only then that Neal noticed that the fire had followed him down the hall, ready to overtake the two men. One more fist flung at Jones for good measure, and then Neal was up and running down the hall. The smell of the smoke nauseated him.

He glanced back quickly once more when he was in front of the door and glimpsed Killian's motionless body where he lay unconscious, the fire quickly overtaking him.

As he turned back towards the door, it was as if time had somehow slowed even further. A creak preceded a loud cracking sound as the wooden board beneath his foot collapsed under his weight and he fell forwards. Everything sped up at once, and he saw the ground beneath him suddenly right in front of his face.

Everything went black.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

A/N: This took me way too long. And this chapter is pretty short. I'm sorry. I couldn't decide where I wanted to go with it. But I think I've got it mostly figured out now.

As always, leave a review!