Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time, nor am I affiliated with Adam Horowitz or Eddy Kitsis.

Emma knocked back the first dram of rum with barely a change of expression. Impressed, Killian poured her another measure. He stopped before the amber liquid got too high, although he was more generous than usual.

"Don't have to prove anything to me, love," he said as he handed her glass tumbler back to her, downplaying the difficulties of doing things with only one hand.

Emma drained the second drink quicker than the first and Killian shook his head, amused.

"Take it you're skipping the toast?" He raised his own glass. "To your health."

He drank with the practiced ease of a pirate, albeit one more used to drinking straight from the bottle. The unusual practice didn't escape Emma's notice.

"What's next, silver cutlery and wine glasses?" she asked, her smile taking away the venom from her words.

"We know how to treat visitors on this ship," Killian said with an unapologetic shrug. "There was a Governor here once who complimented the craftsmanship of the glasswork…although he wasn't 'visiting' so much as 'trussed up in the brig'."

Emma decided that she did not want to know the story (although a small part of her did) and wandered over to the side of the ship. From the deck to the sails, everything was immaculate; just like her Captain, the ship was nothing like Emma expected. Footsteps told her Killian had followed her, clinking told her he had brought the rum with him. He came to a stop beside her and handed her the bottle, hardly taking his eyes off her as he leaned his back against the ship. He might have intended to dispense with the formalities but Emma still poured a measure out into her glass and then, after the slightest of pauses, into his own.

The rum went down smoother this time, one sip at a time. Emma pretended it was the alcohol that loosened her tongue and not her own curiosity.

"Why did you make a deal with Gold to save me?"

Killian was quiet for so long that Emma wondered if she should repeat the question or, in what would probably be a wiser course, pretend she had never said anything to begin with. Just as she was about to comment on something banal ("what lovely planks of wood your ship has") Killian spoke.

"Doing inadvisable things in the name of affection has become something of a calling card for me." There was a bitter edge to his grin that faded after another swig of rum. "Although I believe I heard you mention that I was a factor in your deal with the Crocodile."

Emma took a drink of her own as she considered her answer. The rum was beginning to burn her throat but the aftertaste was not unpleasant. Still, it was probably inadvisable to allow Captain Hook - or any pirate - to determine her measures.

"I had this stupid notion that I could keep you safe," she admitted, setting aside her glass to rest her forearms on the edge of the ship. Although the daylight had all but faded, she leaned forwards to try and watch the water below. "Gold said he would kill you if he stayed in town."

"And you didn't want that."

It was almost, but not quite, a question. Rather, it was an uncertain request for a confirmation that he hardly dared to seek. With the clarity that alcohol afforded, Emma realized that though Killian had spent centuries avenging his lost love, he did not have faith that he could be cared for in return. It was both sad and achingly familiar.

"No," Emma confirmed for him. She glanced up and met his eyes, determined to show him that she was sincere. "I didn't want that."

Killian nodded, almost to himself. A moment of naked vulnerability, of confusion and hope, was swiftly masked with a grin.

"So, my actively seeking out the Crocodile was quite the damper on your heroic sacrifice."

"You almost screwed everything up," Emma said with only a hint of reproach. The rum was making it difficult to be angry with him.

"Another of my calling cards."

They drank in sympathetic unison. Even with the boat stationary in the docks, Emma could imagine the freedom that came with the open seas. No responsibilities but ensuring the ship ran smoothly, no loyalties except to a small select crew, no duties except to her own pleasure. The mere thought was as intoxicating as the rum.

"You don't have to go with him."

Emma looked up, surprised at his hasty spill of words. Though the sentence had seemed to fall unbidden out of Killian's lips, the determination set in his face told her that the sentiment was sincere. Her soft sigh only encouraged him further.

"Stay here," he insisted, standing up straight. "I'll protect you."

His loyalty, so fickle in the Enchanted Forest where he had been a mercenary to his own revenge, was now fierce. Emma had no doubt that, if she let him, Killian would die trying to save her from Gold. She didn't understand why, but then hadn't she been willing to go to extreme lengths to keep him safe that same day? They had a connection that she was willing to defend, that much was clear, buy she was not willing to let him risk his own safety to try and save her from an unconquerable foe.

"You can't protect me," Emma said, as gently as she could. She wasn't issuing a challenge and needed Killian to understand that. "The only way of making sure that Gold doesn't hurt me is to honor the deal I made with him."

A thousand plans flitted through Killian's eyes, each undoubtedly as insane as the last. Finally, he shook his head and turned to face her. Worry and frustration tightened his features.

"I don't want you to go," he said. It was a simple truth, spoken with conviction as though their wishes had any impact in what was fated.

"I know." Emma poured herself a final shot before corking the bottle back up. "But I have to."

Killian watched as she threw the rum back without so much as a grimace. Her tolerance impressed him, made him all the more determined to keep her alive so that one day they could have a drinking contest worthy of the disreputable taverns he had left behind.

"When do you leave?" he asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

"I don't know."

Instead of further attempts at arguments, he moved to stand in front of her. She looked up at him, her lips lifting slightly when she realized what he intended. The stood toe to toe, but Killian would not give away his affection so easily this time.

"Well," he murmured, angling his lips over hers and keeping them tantalisingly close, "we have tonight."

Emma tried to keep her head about her and not lost in the scent of rum and leather and freedom. She lost any anchor to common sense when his lips lowered onto her own. The kiss was less frantic as the first had been; there was a sense of enjoyment, of languid exploration. Emma came so close to losing herself in the moment that she was perfectly willing to ignore the tension and the fear in Killian's tight grip around her waist. He was afraid to let go, and that was exactly why she had to break the kiss.

"We have the next few minutes," she corrected a little breathlessly, her eyes lingering downwards just long enough to catch the disgruntled quirk to Killian's lips.

"Have a little more faith in me than that, love."

Emma smirked but managed to hold back laughter. What little she knew of romance, she knew it was best to avoid laughing in a potential suitor's face. Even if said suitor's face was currently as petulant as a toddler from an imagined slight.

"I meant that I should be going soon," she told him, amused at the fragility of his ego. "I need to check in on Henry."

Killian looked willing to argue his case but ultimately decided against it.

"Fine," he said, allowing himself one last glance at her lips before stepping away. "But for reference, we could have had all night."

He wasn't even trying for subtlety. It roused a familiar mix of amusement and exasperation in Emma.

"Next time, I'll clear my schedule," she told him as she made her way over to the steps. Though she would never admit it, she was only half-joking.

Killian insisted on walking her home. Emma had almost forgotten about the bizarre code of chivalry he lived by, but he made it clear he would not be moved on the matter. She accepted, thinking that at the very least she could ensure he didn't run off with some half-formed plan that would land them in even more trouble.

The night was beginning to deepen. The streets were empty but for shadows and buildings, and even these seemed threatening. Though the pair travelled through the town with their usual confident gait, their footsteps were quicker than they would have been normally. There were too many enemies for them to simply stroll, yet these enemies were not so feared that they had to break into a run. Besides, their pride would not have allowed it. They made it through the town with no trouble, although Emma's adrenaline was primed and ready for attack.

"I'll send word if there's any news," she said as they began to climb the steps to her apartment.

Killian had barely spoken on their journey and even now only looked around with mild curiosity. Although it would be the polite thing to do, Emma did not invite him in. She needed time to explain to Mary Margaret and David about her ever-changing relationship with the pirate Captain; just springing him on them would not be the best of starts.

Emma looked down, about to initiate the awkward goodbye they both knew was coming, when it occurred to her that there was a way to show her thanks and blossoming trust.

"Wait there," she told him, and closed the door rather abruptly in is face.

Killian wasn't affronted; he was used to Emma's standoffish ways and would tolerate them in a way he would not indulge with anyone else. He glanced around the corridor, idly wondering what he would say if someone - probably Emma's parents, knowing his luck - happened to stumble across him. It looked suspicious enough to be standing outside someone's apartment, but add in his reputation and there might be trouble. He couldn't pretend he didn't slightly relish the thought of a fight.

When the door opened again, Killian had to resist peeking past Emma and into her home. He wanted to discover everything he could about her, to see how deep their similarities went and how their differences could be bridged. But she was clearly not about to welcome him into the apartment (yet, the hopeful part of Killian added) and so he gave up on the idea.

"Don't say I never give you anything," Emma said, holding out his hook.

"It balances out the fact that you took it in the first place," Killian replied, though his eagerness to be reunited with his replacement hand softened his tone into a light teasing.

He fastened the hook and clicked it back into place. As familiar as the sound was, he had missed it in the last few days. He held the hook up into the artificial glow of the overhead light, admiring the glint of the metal and the heaviness it added to his arm. He was about to comment when he caught sight of Emma's expression. She regarded the hook warily, as though it had the power to change the man in front of her from Killian Jones to Captain Hook. There was more to the man than his attachments, although it was a conversation better left for another time. Killian lowered the hook until it rested at his side.

"Thank you," he said, his gratitude not only for the return of the hook but for what it represented. Emma's trust, while perhaps still not absolute, was well on its way. He would prove himself worthy of the faith she had in him.

Emma only nodded. Seeing man and hook together again reminded her how much more dangerous Killian was with his hook attached. She could only hope that she had not made a huge mistake it returning it to him.

"You be alright getting back to your ship?" she asked, voicing a different set of concerns.

"Odds aren't really in my favor," he answered with a careless shrug.

"When are they ever?" Emma smiled distantly, knowing that it wouldn't stop him. "Pirate."

Killian placed his hand against the door frame just above Emma's head and leaned in towards her. The invasion of personal space made Emma's heart beat that little bit faster, although she made sure her face remained impassive.

"Ladies in glass houses shouldn't throw stones," Killian advised, though he wasn't insulted by her label. There was a gleam in his eye that told of his enjoyment.

"I'm not a pirate," Emma said, standing her ground.

"No." Killian stole a quick kiss and then moved away, mischief further lighting up the gleam. Without waiting for a response, he turned and made his way down the stairs. "Not just yet. Goodnight, Emma."

Emma watched him go, torn between amusement and indignation. His lips had been light on hers for the briefest of moments, really more a tease than a kiss, but it had held none of the darkness or fear of their previous embraces. It was…Emma would almost have called it sweet, if it had been shared between two other people. As it stood, the Savior and the pirate Captain had no business being sweet with each other. Maybe once all of this was over, when they could just be Emma and Killian, maybe then there would be room for normalcy.

Emma smiled to herself as she closed the door and locked it behind her. As promises went, it was an enticing one. Endure the next few days and at the end of it was a chance at happiness.

The next morning, Emma was gone.

The news spread quickly through the small town and was such a source of gossip that Hook was barely off the ship before he overheard the news. It saved him the walk to Emma's apartment, although the news brought with it a consuming determination to bring her back. All that mattered was her safety, and despite what she thought, that definitely was not assured just because she complied with the Crocodile.

The Storybrooke citizens shared their thoughts as though they were at all relevant, as though they understood Emma's bravery and sacrifice. Killian wanted to sit them all down and list the reasons they should admire their Sheriff as much as he did, but there wasn't time.

He strode back onto the Jolly Roger and straight over to the helm. His was the fastest ship in all the realms and had more than a little magic in her. Killian didn't know if this would be enough to find Emma in the new land she had travelled to with her son and the Crocodile but the ship had always anticipated his wishes before. She was already sailing before Killian had voiced where he wanted to go.

"Not exactly white knight and shining steed, are we?" he muttered to his ship as he flicked open his compass and angled it. He was not conventional, but then neither was Emma. His damsel in distress was more than likely to pull a knife on him, his tower was a concrete jungle and his dragon was a Crocodile. Not exactly the stuff fairytales are made of. "This'll be one for your storybook, lad," he promised Emma's absent son, looking out onto the horizon with a slight smile.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I'll let the show take its course from here on out. Hopefully tonight's episode ("The Queen is Dead") will give us some Captain Swan to feed off! Thank you for your reviews/favourites/follows, you have been amazingly supportive. Not that this should influence you in any way, but today is my birthday and one last review would be a wonderful gift (: Until next time, darlings.

- Momo