A/N: Here we are. It's the end. I liked writing this story a lot, and I'm glad that it found an enthusiastic audience in many of you. Thank you.

22. Love In A Cold Climate

Emma Swan had gotten some pretty crappy letters in her time.

There was the time an aggrieved reader had sent her an envelope at the Sentinel, stuffed with a suspicious white power. That one had necessitated a shutdown of the entire building by counter-terrorism, and a pretty invasive physical exam from CDC officials in HAZMAT suits. Baking soda, as it turned out.

Or even just the post-it note she'd found stuck to the side of the refrigerator two days after Christmas, informing her that August had drank the last of the milk, and could she please go the store for some more, as he was in the middle of a pivotal scene in his novel and didn't want to interrupt his flow?

But the email she received in her inbox on January the 10th? That one left her reeling.

"Emma?"

She shut her laptop lid immediately, looking up to find her ne'er-do-well brother lingering by her bedroom doorway, looking all kinds of suspicious. "Uh, creeper much? It's called knocking. You should try it."

"I did knock. Twice. I've been very good with the knocking ever since the incident with the shower and the thing we agreed to never, ever talk about again."

Emma could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks at the reminder. Let it be said, sharing an apartment with your boyfriend and your brother? Kinda awkward. Especially when said brother didn't tend to announce himself before entering rooms that were otherwise... occupied.

"You wanted to talk?" Emma asked quickly, tossing her laptop aside to give August her full attention.

But for some reason he didn't take her up on her unspoken invitation, continuing to dither in the hallway, hands buried in his pockets and eyes lowered to the floor.

"What is it?" Emma asked, narrowing her eyes. "Did you break the toaster again?

"Toaster is fine. I uh... can I sit?"

Jesus. Maybe he had cancer.

She patted the comforter beside her, and after a moment's hesitation, the mattress dipped as he settled his weight beside her.

"Is everything alright?" Emma asked, looking him over for obvious signs of ill-health. She thought he looked pale, but it was kinda hard to tell, what with the beard and all.

"I, uh... I got a job."

Of all the things she had expected him to say, that was not one of the things.

"Oh," Emma said with a relieved laugh. "That's great! The way you were acting, I thought you were terminal or something. What's the job?"

"Assistant editor at a small magazine."

Emma gave a low whistle. "Wow. Sounds perfect for you. So... why the long face?"

"The job's in LA."

A nuclear warhead might have had a softer landing.

"As in Los Angeles, LA?" she asked, her voice rising a few unnecessary octaves.

"That's the one." His tone was bright, but when his eyes finally lifted to meet hers, she could see every tumultuous feeling that was currently swimming around in her stomach reflected back at her.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Silence fell between them, the suffocating kind.

"So I guess we're not renewing our lease, then," Emma said, a little snippily.

"C'mon, Emma. Did you really want to anyway? I mean, as weird as it is, you and Killian seem to have a pretty good thing going here."

He got an elbow to the kidneys for that one.

"Yeah, but this was just supposed to be a temporary fix, until you came back and I could afford groceries again. I wasn't supposed to move in with the guy. We've been together for like a minute!"

"Em," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I know you like to overthink everything, and you're always the first one to bail when things get too serious, but can we be honest with each other for a sec?"

"Seems like someone already is," Emma mumbled.

"Emma, you've gotta face it: You've already moved in with the guy. Hell, you're practically married."

"Married?" Emma snorted. "Yeah, no."

"Oh, really?" August said, one eyebrow raising in challenge. "Exhibit A: Christmas. You fell asleep on the couch together watching It's A Wonderful Life."

"I was tired!" Emma protested. "You don't know how long it takes to decor-"

"Exhibit B!" August interrupted, holding a warning finger up in front of her face. "Breakfast. Every morning he cooks you breakfast, and every morning you two eat off each others' plates like a pair of gooey-eyed savages."

"He likes cooking!"

"Which brings us to Exhibit C!" August declared, ignoring her entirely. "You bought booties for his dog."

"He gets cold!"

"I know it's scary, Emma. But facts are facts, and the facts are these: You two? Married."

"Why did I used to like you again?" Emma wondered aloud.

"Don't get me wrong. This whole thing has mentally scarred me for life. Therapy will be needed. A whole boatload of therapy. But you were right. He's not the worst guy you've ever dated. Not like that furniture guy. What was his name?"

"Walsh," Emma supplied.

"Yeah, that guy. What a dick. Anyway, where was I going with this?"

Emma listed them off on her fingers. "Therapy? Things seen cannot be unseen?"

"Oh, yes," August said, hitching himself back onto his train of thought. "Killian. Right. I mean, sure, the cleaning thing is a little weird, but I really am glad he was here for you when I wasn't. And I'm glad you let him. Kinda surprised, but mostly glad."

"Well, that's kind of your fault, isn't it? I mean, if you'd never wired him that fifty bucks in the first place, I might never even have seen him."

August blinked. "Fifty bucks?"

"Yeah, the fifty bucks you wired him from Cambodia to come and check on-". At the blank look on his face, comprehension dawned. "You never wired him money to come check on me, did you?"

August shifted guiltily. "Fraid not."

"That sneaky son of a bitch!"

"I feel like I might like to recant," August said, as Emma rose to her feet, fists clenching at her sides. "Is it too late to recant?"

"Yeah. Sorry, I've gotta-" She said, indicating towards her door with her thumb.

"Kick ass and take names?" August suggested, seeming more amused by the minute.

She almost made it a step, before pausing. "I'm really proud of you, by the way," she said, leaning forward to brush a kiss to the top of his head. "And I want to hear all about this new job. Just as soon as I have a little chat with our dear Mr Jones."

"Married!" August called after her, but Emma was already out the door.

It didn't take her long to find him. He was exactly where he was supposed to be, homeward bound after a lap around the park, Smee trailing behind in his little sweater and booties. Even from a distance she could see when he spotted her approach, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Swan?" he asked, when she came into speaking range. "Is everything alright? August just sent me seven 911 texts. Is he-"

He didn't get any further than that. Not when Emma practically leapt into his arms and laid one on him, for God and everyone to see. He stumbled a little as he caught her, his woolen cap falling off onto the sidewalk. Smee's lead followed close behind, as he responded in kind.

"You're such a lying liar!" she said, as soon as he put her down some minutes later.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, leaning over to pick it up his hat and the lead.

"You will be sorry in a minute," Emma said, taking the cap from his hands and beating him lightly around the shoulders with it.

"I'm confused. Are you happy with me or are you angry with me? Because I really can't tell."

"I can't believe-" Whack. "You used-" Whack. "My own superpower against me!"

He had the audacity to be surprised by this news. "I did?"

"You know my superpower only works when I can see you! August wired you fifty bucks, huh?"

At which point the penny finally dropped, and Killian's look of affronted innocence morphed into something altogether more sheepish. "Ah."

"Yes, ah," she repeated. "All of this," she said, indicating between them with the hat, "based on a lie!"

"A white lie," Killian amended, grabbing his cap back and pulling it on again. "For the common good, I'm sure you'd agree?"

"I love you."

It hadn't been what she'd meant to say. She had been going to say something about badly laid foundations, or some other metaphor about rotten tree roots or something. But at the last second, she'd caught sight of his expression. The soft one that he always had when she was gearing up for a good rant, long-suffering, but fond. And the words had simply... slipped out.

He looked as shell shocked as she did. "I..." His jaw had actually fallen open. Like a cartoon character. He hastily shut it, before clearing his throat. "So, to be clear, you're... not actually angry with me?"

Emma shook her head, a smile forming on her lips as she took a step closer.

"You're... in love with me?"

Emma made a non-committal shrug, but when he swayed closer she nodded, her smile growing wider still.

"Bloody hell, you're impossible," he said, but it didn't stop him from snaking an arm around her waist and leaning down for another kiss.

It was Emma who finally broke them apart, her hands against his chest. "So, to be clear, I'm not crazy, right? You're in this with me?"

"Emma, don't you know?" he said, leaning closer so that his freezing nose brushed her own. "You're completely crazy. But I'm kind of hot for that."

She slapped his chest, but he merely grinned a salacious grin. "Of course I'm in this with you, Swan. I know things haven't exactly been easy these past few months, but they've been a million times better for having you by my side. Even with your, quite frankly, ridiculous 'no intercourse' rule-"

Emma placed her hand over his mouth, shooting an apologetic glance at the woman who'd just overtaken them on the sidewalk, looking scandalised.

"Way to go, buddy," she said, taking him by the hand and leading him back down the block, Smee at his heels. But his answering smile was unrepentant.

"In summary, Emma Swan, I bloody love you. Just so you know!" he called out, so they managed to attract strange looks from a pair of cyclists riding past.

To his surprise, she stopped suddenly, so that he nearly crashed into her. "Nice to hear it," she said with an uncharacteristic grin, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Want to hear something else nice?"

"From you, love? Always."

"August is moving out." His hand tightened over hers, his smile fading but she shook her head before she continued. "He got a job in LA. A really good job, actually."

"Swan..."

"I'm fine with it. Really. I think he needs it. A new city. A fresh start."

"And you are...?" He asked, eyes filled with uncertainty.

"I'm staying here. In the apartment. With you. If... you'll have me?" She asked, her bottom lip worrying between her teeth as she waited for his response.

What she maybe hadn't expected was for him to lift her off her feet, his grin broad and boyish as he gazed up into her eyes. "On every available surface."

"You're gross," she chided.

"But you're kind of hot for that."

"Shut up and kiss me, Jones, or you're not getting anything."

"As you wish." And he did.

August was packed up and out of the apartment by Thursday, and Emma's 'no intercourse' rule was broken five times before sunrise on Friday, but still there was something nagging at her. Something she still had left to do.

Their latest case was a simple enough one. Another poor chump accused of defrauding his insurance company. Only thing is, Emma was reasonably sure the guy was actually innocent this time around. Even so, they still had to make it look like they'd put the effort in, which meant far too much time spent in hire cars, video camera at the ready, whilst snacking on gummy worms and quizzing each other on clues for the crossword.

Technically speaking, this was not a two person job. But Emma had never been all that great at filing anyway, and diverting calls to her cell phone had hardly been the most arduous task. And the long stretches gave her time to muster the necessary courage to start the conversation she'd been avoiding for days.

"12 Down. Swagger. 5 letters."

Killian raised an eyebrow from behind his binoculars. "I don't swagger, Swan."

She snorted. "Sure you don't."

"Nor do I strut."

She consulted the page in front of her. "Strut. Strut fits!" she said, filling in the boxes. "Alright. Next one." She scanned the list of clues, her heart leaping into her throat as she read it. "29 Down. To... receive something that is offered."

"Accept?" Killian suggested, his attention still focused on their mark.

"Too many letters. Killian?"

Something in her tone must have given her away, because he set down the binoculars. "Swan?"

"I... got an email last week. With a job offer. A journalism job offer," she clarified.

Some kind of noise escaped Killian's throat, midway between a gasp and a sigh, but he did a good job of swallowing it down. "I had no idea you were still looking," he said, his voice heartbreakingly even.

"That's just it!" Emma said. "I wasn't. I haven't been. Not for months! But one of my old professors happened to mention my name to someone at the Globe. One of their reporters was snatched up by the New York Times, so now they're looking for someone to fill the position kind of soon. Someone with experience, someone who's not afraid to rattle some cages."

"Sounds rather like you," he pointed out with a trace of amusement.

"Yeah, but..." Emma indicated around her. "Now I've got all this!"

"Emma, love," he said, reaching over to cup her face, thumb grazing her cheekbone. "Forget all of this for a moment. Do you want this job?"

She leaned into his touch, savoring her last moment of undecided bliss. "Of course I do. It's a dream job. It's the fucking Boston Globe! But-"

"Then take it," he said, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "29 Down."

Trust him to be thinking of a crossword in her time of crisis.

"But what about this? Us?"

"Well, I don't know about you, Swan. But I'd say us is on pretty firm ground. What with you coming home to my bed every night."

"Our bed," Emma corrected. "We agreed that the new mattress means it now belongs to both of us. But what about Jones Investigations? I can't just leave!"

"Love, let's face it. I can hardly justify paying you as it is. You're clearly overqualified, and you've rarely been called on to actually answer a phone. You've been bloody useful on the investigation front, and we make quite the team, but it's not where your heart truly lies. I know that."

"But what if you need help?"

"Then I'll hire a temp. Surely not everyone from the agency is a Machiavellian villain in training?"

"Don't you even joke." Emma said, raising a finger in warning.

"Or maybe..." he said, leaning closer still, a rakish grin appearing. "On very special occasions. We could still go on stakeouts together," he said, the words whispered into her skin.

"You mean, like now?" Emma asked, tilting her head to give him better access to where he was trailing hot kisses down her neck.

"Precisely, Swan. Let's say we practice."

"You're the worst," Emma moaned, as she tossed the crossword puzzle book into the backseat.

"Aye, darling," Killian said, with a glint in his eye as he leaned back to remove his shirt. "But you love me for it."