Here we are at the last chapter of this little ficlet. It has been more than fun to write, as it gave me a chance to give a new side to the brokenness that are these two great characters. I hope that you have enjoyed this just as much as I have. Thank you to those who have commented, reviewed, favorited, etc. I'd love to hear from you again after you read this and let me know what you liked, your favorite part, or how you liked my ending.

Emma burrowed her hands into the red leather jacket that she found so comfortable and watched as her mother took another picture of Henry with the Statue of Liberty in the background. Even with no Walsh, the trip had not been cancelled and her mother was trying her best to be an activities director for the group. They had seen two Broadway shows, made it to the top of the Empire State Building and been on a day long excursion with a double decker bus. Henry was eating it up, taking pictures of everything and posing for Ingrid's constant camera flashes.

He was a good kid, she thought with a smile. Since her return from Maine he had been supportive in a way that only a single mom understands. He had caused her no trouble as she sorted through her feelings, even putting up with her occasional fade outs from their conversations. He'd even taken her decision to end things permanently with Walsh better than she had hoped.

"There's a better guy out there," Henry said one night as she made sundaes for them. "That's what grandma says."

She looked down at her phone to check the time with a bit of a grimace, realizing she was hardly being a very fun traveling companion. Her mind was constantly pulled back to a mountain cabin with Killian, feeling his breath on her ear as he told her how beautiful she was or the soft touch of his lips when he brushed them against her knuckles. It didn't matter at all where she went, she heard his voice when the waiter with an accent took their order or saw his face in the back of the cab that had an advertisement for charter cruises. She had known better than to seek this out, but she couldn't seem to help herself when it came to thinking of him. It was as if she needed to absorb every piece of his life into her own, to add more memories to the ones she already held so dear.

Leaving him had been the single hardest thing she'd ever done. But she'd had to go; if she hadn't, she would have fallen to her knees in a weeping heap and begged him to stay - or to take her with him. Pathetic, that's what it would have been. And Killian Jones wasn't the type of man who enjoyed pathetic women. The fact was he was an independent man, smart, handsome, charming, and she was positive he had scores of women vying for his attention. She was also sure that, once he'd gotten back to Maine, she'd become a pleasant memory of time well spent. If she had let her guard down, if she had shown him that she had fallen in love with him, that time would have been tainted. She wanted him to think of her with a warm glow, not with a caustic derision that he reserved for women who couldn't let go.

But she would have him in her heart always, she told herself and Mary Margaret. He had been the man to show her what it was like to be physically worshipped, and to worship in return. When she dreamed now, she dreamed of him, of the way he'd touched her, of the way he'd made her feel. She was grateful to have that, even if she couldn't have the man himself.

Sighing quietly, she turned sad eyes to the sight of her son posing with a performance artist dressed as Lady Liberty. And despite the sounds of children squealing and people talking, she found a bit of solace in the constant barrage of waves against the pilings. Killian was right, it was peaceful by the water no matter where a person was, and the consistency of it gave way to an almost sacred feel. She could imagine him sitting on the steps much like these, angry at the world, confused and scared, asking God why life had to be so hard. Silently, she lowered herself to the top step and leaned her head against the railing. Just a few minutes, she promised herself, to take in as many details as she could, and then she would take her son and mother out for a late supper.

Her mother approached and stood in front of her, casting a shadow by blocking out the sun from her daughter's face. "You know that I never really liked Walsh," she said. "He was such a pompous ass most of the time, but I put up with it. Mom's do that kind of thing. We want our children to be happy."

"Glad you took the break up well," Emma said sarcastically, as she remembered her mother's wail that she needed to reconsider. "You've been doing that a lot lately – agreeing with me after the fact."

"You'll visit, right?" Ingrid said, sitting down beside her daughter. Her camera was still in her hands and she was scrolling through the pics she had taken that day. "When you move to Maine."

"Mom, I'm not…"

"I'm just saying that maybe you need to think about it. So he hasn't come for you. Were you expecting him to do that after you left him without even saying goodbye?" She looked toward her daughter expectantly, her facial features softening with a smile. "Emma, it's your choice. But I think it makes sense. Henry's getting older. It would be good for him to be outside of the city where he could run and play. Storybrooke isn't a bad place. And I will be able to visit with Anna and Elsa, as well as Elsa's soon to arrive baby boy."

"Mom, I'm not…I can't pack up my life and Henry's life to try to track down a guy," Emma said in her firmest voice. "What kind of mother would that make me?"

"One who wants her son to have a good life and one who knows that a happy mother is the best way to do it. It's not like Henry will be removed from everything. He'll still visit Boston to see Neal. And I have a feeling that he'll be excited about the idea of Maine. He may have told me." Ingrid winked, lifting her camera and snapping another photo of her grandson.

"You've talked to him about it?" Emma asked, appalled. "I told you this was my decision, my choice."

"It is, but you're still my daughter. I'm proud of you, you know? You're trying to be the woman you want to be. You're writing that new book that is different than anything you've written before. You are standing up to me. You ended things with Walsh for good. You told Neal how things were going to be with Henry. Even still, I'm going to have opinions. So here is my latest. When my daughter falls in love, I expect her to be the brave and strong woman I helped raise. You ran away. Now run back."

"It's complicated," Emma moaned, dropping her head to her mom's shoulder. "I probably pissed him off by doing that."

"Then apologize," her mother said simply. She pointed out in the direction of where Henry was looping his arms over the railing and watching a rather large ship make its way past the private pleasure boats that dotted the area. "Henry's young but even he can see how miserable you are, Emma. Do something to fix it."

"I should go to Maine?" Emma asked, knowing her mother's exasperated answer wouldn't exactly be news. She closed her eyes, imagining the sight of him seeing her pull her little yellow car into his driveway. "I wouldn't know what to say."

"Emma, if he's half as heartbroken as you are, then it is the only solution," Ingrid instructed carefully. "Tell him that I caught you the other night looking at housing options and some private school for Henry. Tell him that you want something more than a vacation fling. Tell him you're an idiot. I don't care what you tell him, but tell him something. Talk to him, Emma. Just talk. You'll find the words."

***AAA***

"Your brother will be late for his own wedding," Elsa complained, running a hand over her protruding stomach. "I was promised some romance and all that. So far we've got a rickety boat and a weird smell." She wrinkled her nose. "This is not the stuff of romance novels."

Mary Margaret, who though only having talked to Elsa on the phone a few times and met just a few hours earlier, laughed heartily. "Just wait," she said, bopping her finger against her son's nose. "Maybe Emma will write this scene up in one of her books later and it will be a yacht with the scent of flowers flitting through the air."

"Where is he?" Elsa whined again. She had already spent the last few weeks making sure that everything would go without a hitch. Hours had been spent on the phone with her aunt, Emma's editor, and even the harbour authority in New York to make things work. Now Killian was late, which according to a quick check of David's phone was caused by a mechanical problem on a plane leaving Maine. "Emma's not stupid. She's going to catch on soon."

"Quit complaining, love," Liam added, affectionately winking at his wife. "We've got to get this finished so my sodding brother can sail her over to the pier and sweep this lass off her feet. We're here to help, not watch."

Pouting, Elsa returned to her task of making sure that the basket they had packed for dinner was fully stocked. She wanted to hear no complaints from Killian that his plan had fallen through in any way. She wasn't sure why he wanted graham crackers, marshmallows and chocolate, but she had picked them up and repackaged them neatly. There was a bottle of wine chilling and glasses that she had picked up just a few hours before when someone realized that they only had plastic cups. Standing up straighter, she placed a fist at the stem of her lower back. "Next time we do this for Killian, remind me not to be pregnant."

Mary Margaret's husband, David, chuckled and stepped over to fold the linens and drop a lighter inside the basket for the candles. "You're doing fine. Killian should be here any moment."

Just on cue, the man in question stepped onto the dock and waved a little salute at his brother.

"You must be Killian," a warm voice said, making him turn so fast that he nearly lost his footing and toppled over. The woman in front of him was just as Emma had described her. A petite woman with dark hair and green eyes that stared at him with a warmth and genuineness that was hard to mistake. A baby was on her hip, but her right arm extended outward as she pulled him into a sort of hug that he hoped she hadn't been springing on every dark haired stranger who walked onto the dock.

"Aye," he said, pulling away as best he could. "And you're Mary Margaret?"

"Guilty," she said, readjusting her son's weight. She shook off Elsa's attempts to relieve her of the weight. "Did you have trouble?

"I worked like hell to get here after they delayed my flight and the cab driver was so busy on the phone with his credit card company that he missed the turn four times," he groused, running a tired hand over his face. "Where is she?"

"Emma isn't here," Elsa said, tilting her head as she studied her husband's brother. "You know the drill. She's headed to dinner with her mom and son." Wrinkling her nose, she stared at him harder. "You look like minced meat."

"Gee, thanks, love," he replied. "Are you about to give birth to that wee lad yet? I thought you would have by now."

"Don't get her started on the Jones men being late," Liam warned, tightening one of the mainstays. "She's given me that particular speech several times during the trip here. That and visited the loo more than should be humanly possible." He affectionately smiled at his wife. "But you know that you'll put up with any of that for a woman you love."

"It appears we will, brother," he said almost wistfully, his gaze searching the horizon as if she might suddenly appear. "So we're all set then. I just point her over there and Emma should be waiting?"

"I told you, Killian, Henry and Ingrid are in on the plan," Elsa reminded him. "Wow, you have it bad, huh?"

"Aye, in the worst way," he confessed on a sigh. "She's turned me inside out then outside in. God, I don't what I'll do if she doesn't…"

"But you know she does," Elsa said with a small smile, affectionately reaching out and squeezing his hand. "You were pretty certain of that when you called me from the cabin the other week."

"I was…I still am." He sighed. "You've seen her? She is still in New York?"

"Of course Elsa hasn't," the brunette chimed in cheerfully. "That's why we're here. If Emma saw Elsa and your brother running about, she'd know something is up. But don't worry. She is headed to dinner tonight with Henry and her mom. Henry's going to realize he left his jacket on a bench and insist on going back to get it." She sympathetically realized that he was almost shaking with nerves. "She's just scared, Killian, and people who are scared do stupid things."

"Like wait nearly a month to track down the woman they claim to love?" Elsa asked the dark haired woman.

He gave her a scathing look. "I explained that. I had work piled up, things I had to clear off my proverbial desk before I could give Emma the time she deserves. And she didn't exactly put out a welcome mat. But mostly I wanted her to have some time to herself, time to think and time to live without me. I want her to be absolutely sure that I'm what she wants, because I'm in this for the long haul. If she doesn't want forever..."

A slow smile spread across both women's faces as their eyes began to twinkle. "Well, it's about bloody time," Liam chimed in, hopping over the side of the boat to land heavily on the wooden surface of the dock. "You're in for a ride, brother."

Mary Margaret cradled the baby to her chest like saying that word might have scarred him for life. "Maybe I should have insisted she meet you years ago. Heaven knows you certainly made her newest book the hottest she's ever written."

"Aye?" he asked, one eyebrow quirking as a smug grin lifted his mouth. "Um, perhaps I can give her some more material for later use." Normally he would not have been so forward with the woman. But after their conversations over the phone, including a lengthy interview of his good and bad points, he felt like he knew the slight woman.

"Eww, okay, enough! Now we're getting into the T.M.I. territory," Elsa complained playfully.

"So is this all…" He spread his hands out. "I don't know how to thank you all for helping me."

"Our pleasure," David said, the last one to disembark from the boat. "Now go get her. I already arranged for you to have a spot to dock this beauty where you'll be able to see her come up."

Killian thought for a moment, then whirled on his heel and headed for the door. "Don't wait up for her!" he called over his shoulder as he stepped onto the deck.

Elsa let out a loud whoop as she clapped her hands together and laughed. There was no way Emma Swan was getting away from Killian. Thank God her brother-in-law had enough sense to grab the only woman who could match him for willfulness and high handedness. They could cheerfully argue for years to come, and be a happy couple for it. She couldn't wait for family dinners together.

***AAA***

Killian saw her the moment she eased through the waning crowds of tourists. A boy, Henry, was leading her, his hand gripping hers as he coaxed her on what she obviously thought was a poor plan. Voices carried on the breeze and it seemed she was telling him that the jacket was probably gone and that they would buy him another one soon. Henry broke away and ran forward as she looked skyward toward the moon for strength, her hand holding back the mane of blonde hair that was flying in the breeze. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Quietly, he made his way over to the railing of the boat, wanting to be as close to her as he could when she became aware of his presence. He didn't want her to have a chance to hide her feelings, the ones that he was sure he would see in her expressive eyes.

"Emma." He didn't want to shout her name, opting to say it just loud enough to get her attention without making it a spectacle.

She jumped at the sound of his voice, at first wondering if she had imagined it. But then she realized she could feel him, his heat a warm aura that melted her sorrow. Swallowing convulsively, she stood slowly and turned, her heart jumping as she saw him on the deck of a sailboat, stepping off it to come closer to her. It seemed like it took forever, her feet frozen.

"Killian," she whispered when he was a few steps away. "What are you doing here?"

"I just got in," he admitted, taking a step closer. "I came for you, Emma."

She stared at him, breathless and speechless, as his words echoed in the cool spring night. She was afraid to believe it, afraid to want it.

"You left me. Why?" he asked.

"I…the ice had pretty much melted and you…I had to…the deadline…" She stumbled over her words.

"I missed you," he rasped, lifting his knuckles to run them slowly down her cheek. "I woke up wanting to hold you, but you were gone."

"I didn't…" she paused, licked her lips, and looked away for a moment.

Killian caught her chin in his fingers and turned her gaze back to his. The kindness in his eyes almost undid her.

"You were as terrified as I was," he whispered, opening himself to her completely, hoping she would do the same. "There's something here, Emma, something that I've never felt before, and I'm betting you haven't either. It's bigger than both of us, larger than anything we've ever experienced. It almost feels like…"

"Like it can swallow you whole," she finished, her face falling into lines of nervous uncertainty. "It takes your breath, makes you not care if you can't breathe."

"So you feel it, too?"

She nodded, a single tear trailing down her face. He smiled gently at her, letting go of her chin to catch the salty drop on his fingertip.

"I think…I think it's…" she stammered, unable to say the word.

"Love," he supplied, then tenderly gathered her in his arms. "I love you, Emma. I just…I love you."

Her breath came out on a long shudder, her body shaking with the emotions that had been pent up for too long. "Oh, Killian, I missed you, too. I thought…I was afraid that you didn't feel the same way. I didn't think I could survive it if you rejected me, and I was positive…I mean, I thought that I couldn't be…"

"You are, Emma. God, you are," he promised, holding her tighter. "I was scared as hell that you'd laugh at me. Someone like you, so talented, so smart, so beautiful…it seemed crazy to think that you could fall for me in a few days. It seemed too crazy to think that you'd fall for me at all. But then when we made love that night, when I held you and we talked, I knew you felt the connection, too. I was going to tell you the next morning, after we'd made love again, but you weren't there."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice coated with tears. "I'm so sorry. I was afraid, and I didn't…oh, Killian. Say it again. Tell me again."

"I love you, Emma," he told her, nuzzling her hair softly. "I love you more than I ever thought I could love another person. But if you feel the same way, darling, then I need to hear it, too. I'm just a poor man with a glass ego. Tell me, Emma. Tell me, please."

She leaned back, her eyes filled with unspoken emotion and need. "I love you, Killian. I love more than I ever thought I could love."

His face lit as her features glowed with a growing smile. Slowly, he laid his mouth on hers, sealing their promises with a sweet, hope filled kiss.

"No more running away, Emma," he whispered against her lips. "I found you, and I'm not letting you go."

"I'm not going anywhere," she swore, letting her arms loop securely around his waist. "Well, maybe dinner. I sort of promised my son and mom…" She turned her head to where her mother and Henry were standing a few feet away. Henry was slightly blushing over the display, but her mother looked thrilled. Hands clapped together in front of her chest, she was beaming at her daughter. Emma was a bit surprised that her tourist happy mother wasn't snapping more pictures.

"I'm taking my grandson to dinner," Ingrid said with an emphatic nod toward the boy. "I think the two of you need some time alone. And then tomorrow we'll all have a little brunch at the hotel. I do need to get to know this man and his intentions toward my daughter. And I think Henry's been saving up a few questions of his own. So you best get prepared for the inquisition."

Henry smiled, leaning his head on Ingrid's shoulder. "I'll be good, mom," he assured. "And maybe we can take that boat ride to the Statue of Liberty tomorrow?"

Killian dropped a kiss on Emma's head before smiling at her son with a welcoming quality. "Perhaps you'd like to take a cruise about on this little girl here," he said, waving an arm back at the boat. "I'm going to have to get her back home to Maine, but I don't doubt we can find some time to take in some of the sights."

His eyes lit up at the thought. "Really? Can we, mom?"

"I think it sounds like a good idea," Emma agreed, still pressed into Killian's chest. "I've been meaning to get up to Maine."

Before much more could be said, Ingrid hurried her grandson back to the taxi stand and was busily calling her niece with an update. Emma didn't even notice as she found herself being pulled toward the boat and standing aboard. Killian dropped a soft kiss to her lips before more hungrily nipping at her. She responded enthusiastically.

He pulled away before things got too heated, sailing out of the busy slip and finding a spot to anchor not too far away that offered a view of the city. She carried the basket over to him and pushed him to sitting with a single finger against his chest. She shocked him by sitting across his thighs and burrowing into his neck.

He gave a soft chuckle, his heart expanding as he began to rock her. "So I don't know about this plan. I had thought we could sail off and enjoy a bit of dinner before heading back to the hotel. But um, well, right now all I can think about is heading below deck where I can tear your clothes off. Any objections?"

"No complaints here," she answered, her voice dreamy.

"Whatever we decide to do, I'm thinking we should stay near the water. Your son seems to like it and I wouldn't mind a sailing partner. I wanted…well, I guess I wanted a place for us. And all I could think about when planning to surprise you was finding us a place that wasn't yours or mine, but ours."

"What are you talking about?" she questioned, leaning back to study him curiously.

"I'm doing this badly," he muttered, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Oh, well, I guess I've already started this conversation. I know this might be too soon for you, and if it is, that's fine, I can move to Boston or travel there on the weekends to see you - "

"Killian, what are you trying to ask me?" she prodded the fingers of her left hand trailing down his cheek to the stubble of his jaw.

"It's just that I thought…I want us to be together, Emma. These past few weeks, it's been too hard. I love you, and I want to have a life with you. I didn't think it was fair to ask you to move your whole life just to accommodate me, and I didn't know how comfortable you would be sharing your apartment in Boston. So I thought that, maybe, if you're willing, we could start over together. I know it's fast, my love."

"Where? Storybrooke?"

"It was a bloody stupid idea," he mumbled. "It's okay, Emma, I understand. Your life is in Boston, you have your friends there, your mother, Henry's life, and - "

"It's perfect," she interrupted him, her face beaming. "Killian, I can write anywhere, and I've been considering a new school for Henry, from what Elsa and Anna tell me they are pretty great in Storybrooke, so I think I'm willing to try a town I've never lived in. I'll have to talk to Henry of course, but as long as you're with me, I'll be happy."

Grinning, he claimed her mouth again, this time giving her a deeper, more heated kiss as the moon shown down on them. His hands skimmed gently over her back to cup her bottom, pulling her flush against him. He heard her groan, felt her body tremble and knew that her passion was kindling as quickly as his. Before he could suggest taking things more private, her phone chirped an annoying tone.

It took her a moment to realize what the noise was. When she did, she let out a loud sigh and shook her head. "Mary Margaret," she said, biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing at his expression.

"She won't leave us alone until we tell her what happened," he complained irritably. "I suppose we should call her back and put her out of her misery."

"But just long enough to tell her what we've decided; then I think we should go down below and, um, finish our discussion," Emma said with a sensual smile. "I was promised that my clothes will be ripped off my body."

Humming appreciatively, he lifted one eyebrow and gave her a lopsided grin. "I like how you think, Swan. It's just one of the reasons I love you."

"And I love you, too, Killian," she replied, running one fingernail across his jaw. "I love you, too."

The End