A/N: Thanks everyone for the kind words and reviews! Fair warning, this one gets slightly smutty.

He told them the whole sordid story in a low voice that spoke more of his shame than his words did. Emma stayed silent, knowing that if she said one word, more would pour out, asking and demanding and berating. She wanted to know the whole story first.

But by the time he wound down, she couldn't hold back anymore. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She couldn't keep the anger out of her voice.

"I had no proof." Killian sounded half-defensive and half-defeated, and she wasn't sure which she hated more. "In fact, Gold manipulated matters so he had proof of my culpability in the whole sorry affair—"

"You could have told me that, too! You really think I'd take his word over yours, you think I'd believe him?"

She felt her jaw clench. "I thought you trusted me."

That got to him, and she was glad to see his eyes flash at her. "Of course I trust you."

"Not with the truth, apparently."

"That's not—" He shook his head. "That's not it. I was afraid."

"Because you didn't trust me to believe you," she insisted.

He said nothing, but she could see him acknowledge it anyway. He wouldn't say it, especially not with everyone else around, but they both knew she was right.

"Why did you make a deal with him anyway?" she asked. "I get wanting your hand back, I do, but you should know better than to make a deal with Gold."

"I was desperate." He shook his head. "I thought—I was sure I had the upper hand. I was overconfident, and I just wanted..." He trailed off, shook his head again. "I wanted to be a better man, Swan. To be worthy of you, to—"

"You what?!" Her sudden outburst made Snow jump, but Emma didn't care. "You really think I care about that?"

He met her eyes without flinching, never one to back down, and a part of her was glad to see it. Anything was better than the broken defeat from earlier; she never wanted to see him like that again. "Don't you?"

She stared at him, momentarily lost for words, just shaking her head.

Killian's chin came up; he was clearly striving for calm, but she could see the storm in those blue eyes, poker face or no. "As I recall, you said as much before. Wasn't that why you didn't want me along to find Zelena?"

That gave her pause. She remembered that day, of course, and she remembered not wanting Killian along, but she was pretty sure that she hadn't said why. At least, not the real reason why.

But with a sinking feeling in her gut, she remembered making a comment about his having one hand. She'd wanted to keep him at bay, keep him safe, maybe even insult him to the point where he'd give up and stop caring so damn much. It hadn't worked, because it was Killian and these things never worked, but apparently she'd managed to score a bigger hit than she'd realised.

A sick feeling spread through her stomach. She'd hurt him. And he still hadn't given up on her.

But on the other hand—

"You really think I think like that?" she demanded. "Really? What kind of person do you think I am?"

Killian's expression didn't change, but she saw his jaw clench. He said nothing, apparently at a loss for once, and for a moment they just looked at each other.

They still had an audience, Emma remembered. And conversation was rapidly edging into personal territory, which was probably why Killian's lips were forming that stubborn line while his eyes told her that he had a million things to say.

"Never mind. Let's just—" She blew out a breath.

"Maybe we can agree that making deals with Gold is a bad idea," Snow suggested in her best diplomat voice, and Emma remembered her own deal with Gold with a little guilty stab in her chest.

"Yeah."

"Aye."

David chuckled. "Don't sound too enthusiastic, kids."

They both shot him a glare, which only made him laugh more. But he sobered again as he looked at Killian. "And for the record," he said, "from now on, if you get into trouble, tell us."

Killian looked uncomfortable, but tried to play it off with a shrug and a smile. "It was my mess to clean up, mate."

"And you were doing a great job when we got there," Emma couldn't resist saying, a little snidely.

"The point is," David said, raising his voice and shooting her a look, "we help each other. You've saved our lives before, and it works both ways, otherwise it doesn't work at all."

Killian gave him a long, measuring look, then he nodded. "Aye. Thank you." He glanced at David's arm. "I'm sincerely sorry about that, by the way."

"I've had worse. But I gotta say..." David smiled ruefully. "You're a hell of a swordsman."

Killian raised one eyebrow. "Not so bad yourself."

And that seemed to be the end of that. But Emma knew that for her, at least, the subject was far from finished. Much as she hated the cliché, they really needed to talk.

Killian stayed for a cup of tea and to help clear up a few things, still reeling a little from the unexpected turn of events. They'd believed him. He was a pirate, he'd lied to them, cheated them, and even locked Snow and Emma in a cell – and they believed him.

Emma was still mad at him, he could tell, but she hadn't stormed off or kicked him out as he'd feared she would. He wasn't entirely sure why. But his chest was still warm with hope, no matter how often he called himself a fool for it.

He left before dinner, turning down the invitation to stay with a smile and the knowledge that he could not sit down to dinner with Emma Swan at the moment.

Snow hugged him before he left. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Ah... thank you, milady." This time, he said the title with sincerity, and she smiled like she really meant it, too.

He walked back to his quarters with a new lightness to his steps. He picked up his pace, stopping just short of running lest anyone should think there was a new crisis brewing. By the time he reached the B&B, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and when he ran into Granny in the hallway he greeted her with a bow and his most extravagant compliment yet.

"Rent's still the same," was all she said, looking at him over the top of her glasses.

"And I shall pay it gladly," he assured her, and meant it. Only a few hours ago, he'd been sure that he'd never pay rent again, and for the worst of reasons.

Granny shook her head, as always – the woman could not accept a compliment, which was why Killian went out of his way to give her as many as he could. "What's gotten into you?"

"What indeed?" He grinned, bowed again, and made his way up to his room. It looked the same as always; he'd even left a shirt lying on the bed, unable to care about tidiness this morning. He'd debated packing everything, maybe leaving a note, but in the end, he hadn't. Emma might have figured it out on her own – she was certainly perceptive enough – but something in him had rebelled at the thought of flat-out telling her about his impending demise. It had felt too much like giving up.

He went to dinner, enjoying the taste of food more than he'd been able to for the past while, feeling a little strange to be doing something so ordinary after the day's events. He complimented Granny's cooking, she all but glared at him for it, Ruby laughed at them both... like always.

The only shadow over it all was Emma.

He was used to that feeling, the knowledge that something stood between them, the uncertainty. For a brief, blissful time, it had been fading, back when she'd let him hold her after her ordeal in the ice cave and told him she worried about him and asked him to dinner. But it was back now, and he had a heart to feel it with, and for all that it was familiar he found that he still did not like it one bit.

He'd expected her to be angry. He just hadn't expected her to be angry about things like his lack of faith in her.

He wished he knew whether that was a hopeful sign, or a bad one.

He wished she was here.

He wished he'd never believed that he could outwit the crocodile.

He was just finishing dessert – apple pie with vanilla ice cream, because cursed if he was going to let the Snow Queen put him off one of this realm's greatest delights – when he heard her voice.

"Hey."

She'd come up behind him, moving to stand next to the booth, hand trailing over the table. "Mind if I join you?"

He gestured to the seat across from him. "I'd be honoured."

She slid into the seat, shaking her head at Ruby with a smile when she caught her eye. "Killian, we really need to talk."

"I know." He pushed the last bite of his dessert around the plate in a vain effort to capture it, gave up, and used his hook to trap it before scooping it up. "Perhaps we could take a walk."

She hesitated. "Can't we just go upstairs? I don't feel much like walking after all the running I've done today."

That was a surprise, but he cautiously counted it as a good sign that she was willing to be alone – really alone – with him. "Of course."

His room had one chair, which he offered Emma before sitting down on the foot of his bed. She stayed standing, though, shifting from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable.

He was about to suggest that walk again, but she spoke before he could. "Killian." She sounded sure, as if she'd given herself a mental kick. "You know this—" she gestured "—this, with you and me, us—it can't work if you don't trust me."

Of all the things he'd expected her to say, this was nowhere near the first. "I trust you—"

"No, you don't," she cut him off. "Because if you did, you would have told me and trusted me to believe you." She did claim the chair then, leaning towards him. "Look, I get it. I think. I haven't exactly given you reasons to. I just kind of assumed you did, because I trust you."

He wasn't sure what to make of that. Her face gave nothing away, either. For a moment, she looked down, and when her eyes met his again, she looked – of all the things – uncertain.

"Do you think you can?"

He wasn't sure he understood. "Of course, love."

"Really?" she challenged. "Because I mean it, Killian, this can't work if you don't. It has to go both ways. And you've got to let me help you if you want to help me. I can't—" She shook her head. "I can't do it any other way."

He had to ask. "Is that what bothers you? Not the deal, the lies, the—"

She waved that away impatiently. "You made a mistake. I made one too, remember? I trusted him. I almost walked right into that hat."

His stomach clenched at the memory, the desperation tensing every muscle as he strained against his bonds, the fear almost choking him. "You believed he'd changed."

"I was desperate," she corrected him. "But that's not the point. Look, I know we're not—this isn't perfect. And trust doesn't just happen overnight, I know that, but you almost got yourself killed over this. All because you didn't trust me enough to tell me and let me help—no," she corrected herself, "because you thought that having two hands makes you a better man, or that that's what I want."

She looked more upset than angry now, and the words kept coming. "I mean, is that really what you think, that I care about that?"

"No, no." Killian wasn't sure what he was referring to, it was more of a reaction than an answer. He made to reach for her hand, checked himself, scratched at his ear instead. "No, love, I just..." He wanted to explain and found that he couldn't, couldn't find the words. "I was scared, that's all. I wanted to tell you, I was just scared I'd lose you—"

She moved, and for a moment he thought she was going to storm out of the room, but then her hand touched his cheek and she leaned down, and he felt her lips on his and forgot to breathe.

She kissed with insistence, pushing against him until she stood between his legs, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. He slid his hooked arm around her waist, his hand reaching up to tangle in her hair because he couldn't help himself, could never help himself.

After a moment, she pulled away a little. "Don't ever do that again."

"Which part?"

Her eyes narrowed. "All of it."

"As you wish."

She kissed him again. He deepened it, tongue delving into her mouth, revelling in the way he could feel her touch all the way down to his toes again. His heart pounded against his breastbone, and he felt whole in a way he hadn't in centuries.

Emma's hand wandered down his chest, slipping under his shirt, and he tried to pull her closer. She stumbled when her knees hit the bed, falling against him with a breathless laugh. His apology stuck in his throat when she moved closer still, onto his lap, kneeling with one leg on either side of him.

He was sure that there were still a dozen things he'd wanted to say or ask, but he'd forgotten half of them, and the other half were currently being answered, more or less. At Emma's prompting, he shucked his jacket while she concentrated on the buttons of his waistcoat before turning her attention to his shirt. He felt like he'd left the rational part of his mind behind somewhere, unable to think of anything but Emma – her lips on his, her hands stroking over his skin, her body pressed against him. It was too much, but he didn't, couldn't care; he wanted more.

He looked into her eyes, dark and wide over flushed cheeks, and surrendered.

After, when they lay tangled on his bed, her head on his shoulder and his arm curled around her waist, he closed his eyes and tried to figure out what he was feeling.

Emma interrupted his thoughts, her voice quiet, lazy. "Do you ever take it off?"

He looked down. Her fingers were tracing the curve of his hook, her touch so light he hadn't noticed. He couldn't see her face, but she only sounded curious, and he'd had enough of secrets and lies. "Most nights," he said. "When I'm sure I won't need it." He hesitated, then smiled. "That's not counting the times when some people I could mention tamper with it."

She laughed softly. "I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not."

"I can take it off if it bothers you."

Her hand wandered over the brace to his arm. "It doesn't. Never has. You know that."

He swallowed. "Aye."

She was silent for a moment. "Killian, I want you to promise me something." She turned in his arms, propped herself up so she could look at him. Her hair was a gloriously tangled mess, falling around her face and onto his chest, and he couldn't help smiling at the sight. At her, here, with him, like this...

"Anything, love."

"Don't ever change for me," she said. "Especially not for what you think I want." She paused, firmed her lips like she did when she was unsure whether or not to say what was on her mind. But she went on, "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want... if I didn't want to be."

It wasn't exactly what she'd meant to say, he knew, but it was more than enough for now. He wasn't sure he could handle any kind of declaration from her right now. His heart felt too full as it was. "You have my word."

"Good." She leaned over to kiss him again before curling back into his side, her hand running over his chest.

He lay back, silent, marvelling at how she felt in his arms. He wanted it for so long that he'd become used to it, and now that she was here, it almost didn't feel real.

Emma spoke again, hand over his heart. "How does it feel?"

A good question, he thought, trying to come up with the words to describe it. He took a deep breath. "Like coming up for air. Like I can see again." He caught her hand with his hook, bringing it up so he could kiss her knuckles. "Like meeting you."

"Charmer." But she said it lightly, with something that sounded so much like fondness that he had to turn his head and press a kiss into her hair, too.

"How did you do it?" he asked. "I felt him trying to crush it. You stopped him."

"Yeah." She shrugged, the movement made awkward by her position. "I just... did. I don't know. I saw what he was doing and I just had to stop him. I don't know how. It's something to ask Regina about, I guess."

"You think she'll know?"

"Well, she knows plenty about taking hearts," Emma said wryly. "If anyone knows how to stop it, it'd be her."

"A reasonable assumption." He mulled the matter over for a moment. "I have a theory."

"Hmm?"

"Cora tried to take your heart once," he said. "You stopped her. Perhaps that's what this was, too."

"It felt similar," she admitted. "Except that was my heart. Some kind of... in-built Saviour protection, or something. I didn't think I could use it to protect others."

He smiled. "Perhaps it's because my heart belongs to you, too."

She stilled, and for a moment, he thought he'd said too much again. Damn it, but it was hard to keep it all in, especially now that he could feel everything again and his emotions were still running rampant.

But all she said was, "hmm."

And she moved, pulling him closer for another kiss, and he knew, even if she didn't say it.

They were all right. He was all right. He didn't need his hand to love her, after all. He just needed his heart.

And that was safe in her keeping.