Emma lounges in the sunshine, basking in the warmth. There isn't a muscle in her body that isn't relaxed, and she wonders for the hundredth time how she got so lucky.

In spite of everything that's happened, in spite of the pain and the trauma, and the emotional scars to match the physical ones, Emma wouldn't trade any of it.

Her honeymoon is going that well.

She's not entirely sure where they are, the bright aqua sea stretching out from the boat as far as she can see. Killian tells her it's a sloop, which had him excited, but it's all the same to her – big sails, a deck to lounge on, and a cabin below for the two of them once they've anchored up for the night…or day.

They argued about this idea, coming down to the Caribbean on a sailboat for a few weeks. It's October, the trail end of hurricane season, but they've also had questionable luck with boats as of late.

But Emma pushed. In spite of Killian's selling his remaining boat, as things got better between them, she could see it, his need for open water and the roll of the waves under his feet. Besides, the boats weren't all bad. She's got fond memories of their first kiss and their early dates, the cool autumn nights she spent really getting to know the man she's vowed to love for the rest of her life.

Though the view of the stars this far south, out in the middle of the ocean, are much more pleasant in the warm tropical air than the chilly Maine nights. Emma grins to herself, remembering the night before, the slide of Killian's skin against hers as they took advantage of the privacy the night afforded. He made her see stars, all right.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you, wife?"

Emma squints up at him, failing miserably at playing innocent. She's trying to stop herself, but he keeps calling her wife in an almost scandalous tone and it makes it impossible not to grin at him like an idiot.

"Whatever do you mean, husband?" The sun catches on the silver band he's wearing on his left hand, sending a shiver down Emma's spine. She really is someone's wife – Killian's wife.

His eyes drag over her lean body, stretched out on the deck and wearing a very small, very white bikini. She's slathered herself in sunblock to keep her fair skin from frying, and it's made her skin shimmer in the bright Caribbean sunlight. The white was an idea she got after he mentioned how he wanted to see her in a white dress – an entire honeymoon wardrobe of white. White bathing suits, white sundresses, white, lacy underthings. It felt a little foolish when she was packing the bag, but the way his eyes land on her with each new piece make her certain the gesture is appreciated.

Turns out Emma makes a decent bride after all.

He only smirks down at her, a bottle of beer in one hand. He's wearing a pair of shorts dangerously low on his hips, his skin tanning easily. Emma wishes she had a camera in that moment, because this is as relaxed as she's ever seen him, happy, and she wants to keep the moment forever. Her phone is next to her, playing music quietly, and that will have to do. She snatches it up and snaps his photo before he realizes what she's done.

"See something you like?" he teases, settling down on the deck beside her and leaning his chin on her shoulder.

"Look." She shows him the photo, and even Killian is taken aback by the carefree expression and relaxed posture. He knows he's happy – he's on a honeymoon in the middle of the Caribbean with a woman made for him – but it's entirely different to see it staring back at him.

"Marriage suits you," she says softly, leaning back for a kiss. Her hair is loose, the long blonde locks tickling against his chest.

"You suit me." Killian finishes off the beer, setting the bottle out of the way and sliding his hands down Emma's body. Her skin is hot from baking in the sun, the sunblock making his hands glide over her slippery form.

"Mmm…" Emma's words fail her as his touch wanders, the loose knots of her bikini offering little resistance. He tastes like salt and sweat and beer as she pulls him down on top of her, his lips curled in a smile even as he devours her.

They stop at various islands, tying up long enough to venture through the shops, replenish their supplies, maybe take in some of the tourist sights, but mostly, they sail. Killian resumes Emma's lessons in seamanship, even if she thinks it's an excuse for him to stand behind her, the line of his body pressed to hers.

She doesn't mind.

They spend their last night in the Caribbean at sea, watching the sun dip under the horizon in content silence. The sea is calm, nothing more than a gentle rocking below the boat, and Emma leans back into Killian's arms. He's solid and real and he's hers, and she's so glad they took these weeks for themselves, in this place.

"We could stay," he whispers in her ear as the sun finally slips below the horizon, the eastern sky turning purple as the night chases out the day.

"I could probably squeeze another week out of work."

"I meant for good, Emma."

She turns in his arms, meeting his gaze. He's serious, contemplative. His eyes move between her and the horizon, his breaths deep. "Do you not want to live in Seabrooke?"

He shrugs, tightening his grip on her. "I want us to be happy, love."

"Gold's in jail," she says softly, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "Is that what you're worried about, that something else is going to happen to us? It's over, Killian."

"You don't want to leave."

She sighs, pulling him back to her when he tries to pull away. "We have a life there. A home, and jobs, and friends. We met there."

"We almost died there. Twice."

Emma shrugs, looking around them. "And one good hurricane down here could take us out, too. It's in the past."

"I'm out of a job, you know. Granny doesn't have hours for me with the tourists gone."

"Killian, if you really want us to live somewhere else, if it's important to you, just tell me. If you can't live in Seabrooke, then we move."

He's silent, gathering her close and pressing his nose to her hair, breathing her in. She waits, instinctively knowing he needs a beat, needs to gather his thoughts and figure out for himself the answer to her implied question.

Night has fallen, the stars twinkling above them in the moonless sky, by the time Killian makes up his mind. "My home is with you, Emma. If home is Seabrooke, then we live in Seabrooke."

"Are you sure? You're not just saying that for me?"

"Leaving Seabrooke is admitting defeat," he says after a pause, a flicker of banked rage burning in his eyes. "It would be running away, and that won't serve us in the end. We stay until we decide to leave because we're tired of the frigid winter, or because Regina Mills is an awful biddy, or because you don't want to be Sheriff anymore."

"You keep me plenty warm on those frigid winter nights," Emma teases, brushing her lips against his lightly.

He trails his hand down her spine, watching the goosebumps rise on her arms. "Cold now, love?" It's in the eighties and humid, in spite of the sun's absence and the light breeze.

"Freezing." She raises an eyebrow at him, pressing closer. "Warm me up?" It's a challenge and an invitation he's only too happy to accept.

He carries her below deck, and at the end of a long journey, he carries her across the threshold of their apartment the next day. Emma's shrieking with laughter, her protests that they've lived together for months falling on deaf ears.

"Hush." Killian sets her down on her feet just inside the door, ducking back outside for their bags. She's shaking her head at him, her body swathed in his sweatshirt to ward against the chill of the plane and the Maine air.

"You're ridiculous."

"You shouldn't mock your husband so, wife."

"Uh huh."

"I warned you." His grin is full of mischief as he advances on her. Emma expects a kiss, but he swings her over his shoulder instead.

"Killian!"

He ignores her, pausing long enough to bolt the door before turning for the stairs. It's the first time they've been home since being married, having left for the airport directly from Granny's reception. They're both tired, and it's been a long day, but before the glow of their honeymoon happiness wears off, Killian is determined to have his wife in his own bed.

He tells her as much, the words low and filled with desire.

But when they get to the bedroom, he sets her down on her feet and simply holds her close for a good long moment. They're home and they're married, and this is forever. He can feel it in his bones.

They've spent two weeks wrapped up in each other, letting their passions take them whenever they pleased. He's had her every which way and then some, but it doesn't make this moment between them any less. Killian knows every inch of Emma's body, but there's something about the way her hair fans over the pillows of their bed, the way the moonlight filters in from their windows, that makes her more beautiful than he thought possible.

It's anything but hurried, his hips moving almost lazily to drive himself in and pull himself back out. But there's nothing lazy about the intense look in his eyes, the murmur of her name spilling from his lips. Emma hooks her calves around his thighs, urging him closer even as his hips meet hers.

It's a slow burn building in the pit of his stomach, and Emma's breaths below him are erratic enough to tell him she's nearly there, too. It doesn't take much more than a subtle shift of his hips, and then she's gasping and he's squeezing his eyes shut tight as the waves of pleasure wash over them.

His entire body goes limp, his weight supported (barely) by his forearms as he bends to kiss her, a lingering kiss of pure satisfaction. Emma's eyes are hazy with satisfaction as she blinks them open to stare up at him, a smile curving her lips.

"Welcome home, husband," she whispers, one hand tracing the line of his jaw.

"Welcome home, wife," he replies, bending to kiss her once more. It's a kiss filled with promise for their future, for Emma to always call him husband with a saucy smirk, but never in anger – a promise that he'll always call her wife with a bit of a leer, no matter how old they get.

It's a promise of forever.

AN: Since it's finished tonight and there was such a long delay between chapters, I hope you enjoyed the final chapter of this tale. I have another project in the works, but given all the craziness of my life, I plan to write the majority of it before posting. It's been lovely having you all along for this ride. Thanks for reading!