She couldn't take it anymore, none of it. Not the undisclosed looks her parents thought they were giving her; they were far from unnoticed. Then there was Henry. Her poor sweet Henry who was going on with life as if nothing had happened, because all was still the same in the life of young Henry Mills. He still had two mothers (who would probably never get along), there was always something terrible and exciting happening in town and in his mind he still had a father.

She had to leave; she couldn't look at any of them any longer. Pushing herself off the couch she quickly made a b-line to the door.

"Where are you going?" David's voice wearily called from the kitchen island. She may not have been looking at him, but as far as she could tell he hadn't taken his eyes off her for at least the last half hour.

"Out."

She told herself she didn't go down to the docks on purpose. It was within walking distance and the benches there were always a welcoming space for solitude. It had nothing to do with the way her chest contracted when she heard the bunching of leather and the scent of rum invaded her senses. Emma had her elbows resting on her knees, head in the palms of her hands when she felt his warmth settle in beside her.

"I understand he was the lad's father," Hook's voice finally floated into her ears, his words for once gentle; without any hint of malice.

She only nodded, not removing her head from where it sat, not opening her eyes to take the chance to look at him, not risking letting him see the tears that would undoubtedly flow if she did.

"I'm sorry, Emma." Hook sighed, tilting his head back to look at the stars. "He was a good lad when he was a boy, his mother through and through." A chuckle left his throat in a tight breath. "Bloody useless at the helm." He tentatively lifted a hand and let it hover for a few prolonged seconds before deciding to let it fall on her shoulder allowing himself to give it a tender squeeze. "I truly am sorry."

She looked at him then, not bothering to brush away the tear that trekked down her face. His eyes shone in the moonlight, but had a duller hue than that which she was used to seeing. The playful pirate was all but gone; this was simply a man, sitting beside her, offering his condolences.

For that, Emma was more than grateful.

"Thank you, Killian."

The corner of his lips turned up into a small grin and his eyes fell closed. "And here I thought you'd forgotten my name."

Oh what the hell she thought, in a sea of faces his had been the only one to bring her any type of solace so she would let him have a small moment.

"How could I? A pretty name for such a pretty face." Her lips twitched into a smile, but he could see she wasn't feeling it. Still, she was trying, which was more than he had ever done after Milah. A thousand and one retorts ran through his mind, threating to slip off his tongue, each one of them worthy of a blow to jaw. Yet his lips remained sealed. This was not a night for teasing his Swan.

Hook stood, shrugging out of his coat and before she could protest he was securing it around her shoulders.

"What are you—"

"The air is less than forgiving tonight, love, and by the looks of it you have no intentions of returning home soon."

Emma sighed and slid her arms into the sleeves and pulled it tighter around her. "Thanks…again."

"Anytime, lass."

Emma spent the night at Granny's. She just wasn't ready to go back to the loft, not yet, and most definitely not while wearing a certain pirate Captain's coat. She sent Mary Margaret a text, not wanting to deal with the useless talking that she would want to drag her into and fell into a hazy sleep.

It was strange being back on his ship, painful even, seeing as the last time it had been with Neal and Henry. She had wanted to return his coat and get back home before it became too late in the day, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Hook?" She called out as she walked around deck, finally taking the steps to the lower level and finding herself standing at his cabin door. She knocked, and having being already slightly ajar the door pushed the rest of the way open with a soft creak.

"Hook?" She tried again, sticking her head in and finding it empty. She took a cautious step inside, a slight feeling that she was invading his privacy washing over her when she found herself admiring his living quarters. A sizable, inviting looking bed to one side and a desk on the other, littered with maps and charts and naturally a suspicious bottle which she assumed was rum. Trinkets lined the walls behind locked cabinets and a window overlooking the sea. She smiled to herself, running her fingers along the worn edges of the desk, tracing the scratches in the wood that were obviously made with his hook.

Not wanting to linger she twirled out of the coat and laid it across his chair and turned to leave when she noticed a folded yellowed parchment fluttering to the floor.

"What?" she whispered to herself, bending down to pick it up. It hadn't been there when she came in, so it must have slipped from somewhere inside his coat. Everything in her mind told her to set it on his desk and let it be, but as her fingers traced the torn edges she couldn't help herself but to unfold it.

She automatically regretted her decision.

She knew who it was in an instant. Not only because of whose pocket it had been lingering in, but because the eyes staring back at her were damn near identical to Henry's. Emma let out a breath that she had unknowingly been holding and slumped into a sitting position, not being able to take her eyes off the portrait.

Hand drawn and old. Very old.

The very fact that Hook had carried this with him all this time had made her insides clench with guilt. He might be a crude pirate now, but once he had loved and clearly had been loved. It would be foolish to think that that part of him was gone completely.

The sound of boots approaching had made her go rigid and it wasn't but a moment later when the door pushed all the way open.

"Emma? Love, what are you—" he stopped, words catching in his throat and his skin going cold at the sight of the paper in her hand.

Emma quickly got up off the floor and went to him. "I…I was just bringing back your coat and…I…it must have fell out. I didn't…I didn't mean…" Emma sighed and hung her head when she offered it back to him. "I'm sorry."

He took it from her, fingers tracing over the outline while a shaky breath escaped his lips.

Emma looked up, expecting to see a fuming pirate glaring back at her, but instead her eyes fell on a man in mourning, tears glistening behind his blue irises.

"I haven't looked at this in a long time." He swallowed, wetting his lips and with a blink allowed a tear to fall. "I had almost forgotten her face." Hook folded up the parchment and held it to his chest, eyes closed and a smile now ghosting across his lips.

He crossed the room and set it on top of the desk before approaching Emma, slowly getting closer until the tips of his boots were touching hers.

She didn't step away, she simply stared back at him, wondering if his next move was going to be an angry one or not. She didn't have to wait long; Hook was now pulling her flush against his chest, his nose nuzzling her hair as he held her tightly to him.

He was solid and warm and his embrace was more than inviting. There was no ill intent, he had just wanted someone to hold and dammit it felt too good to deny him that. It wasn't a parental hug, and not necessarily one that someone might exchange with a friend. This was something that they simply both needed.

Emma slid her arms around his back and pressed her cheek into his shirt, breathing him in. She felt his lips on the top of her head and his voice muttering in soft whispers.

"Thank you, Emma." He sniffed and leaned back slightly, his hands cupping her cheeks and bending down to press a lingering kiss on her forehead, followed by another quick one.

"Thank you."

Emma smiled up at him under her lashes and traced the small scar on his cheek, wiping away the traces of lingering tears. With a smile he pressed into her touch and covered her hand with his, holding it in place on his cheek.

"No, Killian, thank you."

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A/N: We all know I love reviews!