#csbb fic

“You two really don’t need to do this,” she argued. “I’m fine not being there, really.”

“But it’s also a celebration,” Killian argued, coming around the kitchen island to lean over the couch, “one year ago, we were on the show. Little did I know how much it would change my life.”

She accepted the kiss he gave her with a smile.

“Hey!” Henry admonished. “Remember my rule about the kissing?”

“Never agreed to that rule, kid,” Emma laughed.

“Yeah, well,” Henry told her, “Killian’s gotta help me with this tray.”

“Be right back,” Killian told her with a wink, “get the show queued up, okay?”

Emma searched for the Roku remote on the coffee table, groaning when she looked across the room to find it neatly lined up with the other remotes on a shelf of the built-ins. Killian never seemed to understand why she and Henry got so frustrated with this neat habit of his, no matter how many times they tried to explain that storing the remotes right next to the TV defeated the whole purpose. She got up and walked over to retrieve it, her eyes lingering on the top shelf where the Dancing with the Stars mirror ball trophy sparkled in the light shining through the window. Right next to it sat the Emmy she had won for her choreography to Heart Shaped Box. Emma had argued with Killian about it when the three of them moved into their London flat. It was the first thing he unpacked, and he insisted that this was where it should go. Not only that, he had already pointed it out to every person who walked through the front door, even the guy who delivered their Chinese order a few nights ago. She pretended to be embarrassed, but his pride in her accomplishments honestly took her breath away. He had never even been nominated for an Emmy, and yet he displayed not a shred of insecurity or bitterness for hers, only wholehearted support.

They had made the move to London at the beginning of the summer so Henry could adjust to living in a new country before school started. The movie shoot would be a long one, not wrapping until February, if things stayed on schedule. It would make no sense to pull Henry out of school at that point, so they signed a year’s lease on the flat and threw themselves into making London their new home.

Rehearsals for the movie had started last week, and Emma was glad to have Killian at her side. At the first read-through of the script, she had shaken with nerves. She had worried that the rest of the cast wouldn’t accept her; that they would think she had won her role just because of her relationship with its star. But it turned out that the producers had intentionally gone with a largely unknown cast, except for Killian, and the feeling amongst everyone was largely one of excitement instead of ego and competition.

Emma loved the script, too. She played a naïve girl from a Midwestern town who moves to London to follow the punk band she idolizes. Killian played the equally naïve young man from the English countryside trying to make it as a musician, pining for Emma’s character while she chases her self-absorbed rock idol. It was a completely different role from Captain Hook, and she couldn’t be happier for him.

The theme for Dancing With the Stars was playing on the TV when Killian and Henry came in, the latter carrying a tray laden with popcorn, sodas, and boxes of movie theater candy. Henry set the tray down, and Killian pulled his hand from behind his back with a flourish to produce a bouquet of buttercups and forget-me-nots and presented them to her.

“M’lady,” he told her with a wink.

Emma accepted the bouquet, frowning in concern when his hand shook slightly as she took them. “Are you okay?”

“Of course? Why wouldn’t I be?”

He sat down next to her on the couch, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She didn’t press him despite the telltale scratching behind his ear. Henry plopped down on the floor by the coffee table, but kept glancing back at the two of them. On the TV, the couples had all been introduced, and the judges were being brought out.

“Is it weird to see your brother as a judge?” Killian asked, reaching over for some popcorn.

“A little, but I think he’s going to do a great job,” Emma answered, snatching some popcorn out of Killian’s palm. “Hey, kid, hand me that bowl and the Milk Duds.”

Henry’s eyes grew wide and caught Killian’s as he handed her the bowl. Then he lifted the box of Milk Duds slowly and carefully. Emma narrowed her eyes as her gaze toggled between the two of them.

“What is up with you two . . . “ she trailed off as she accepted the candy. “This is already open! Is there even candy in here?”

She opened the box and peered inside. Something sparkled. Her mouth fell open as she looked first at Killian and then at Henry. Slowly, she tilted the box and shook the contents into her open palm. Instead of Milk Duds, the box contained nothing but a simple, elegant, princess cut diamond ring. Speechless, she looked up to meet Killian’s eyes, which shone with emotion.

“Emma,” he said softly, “I love you. This past year has been the best one of my life. Dancing with you, now making this movie with you, it’s shown me one thing with startling clarity. No matter what comes in our lives, I wish to always, always be by your side.”

Emma blinked and swallowed, but she couldn’t stop the tears from pooling in her eyes. He took the ring gently from her hand. “Emma Swan, would you marry me?”

She nodded, the tears spilling over and making tracks down her cheeks. “Yes!”

He reaches her side just as the lights of first responders break through the spaces in the forest. Their sirens startle him slightly, but Emma merely opens her eyes and relaxes further into the earth beneath her. Four police cars lead the pack, followed shortly by an ambulance. “You shouldn’t have,” Emma says sarcastically. Killian knows without looking she’s holding out a hand, silently asking for his help to stand. He grants it to her - as if he would do anything else - and watches as she brings herself up. “To be fair, I didn’t,” Killian says with a shrug. She squeezes his hand, gaining his attention and begging the question hanging between them. Shrugging again, Killian supplies, “I told Liam you were okay.” “And he apparently didn’t listen.” “As much as you wish you weren’t, love, and as much as you can pretend that you’re invincible, you are pregnant,” he gently reminds her. His arm comes around her shoulders. Emma tilts her head until it rests on his shoulders. Connected like this, he can definitely feel the fatigue wafting off of her, the stress stretching her muscles. Both pairs of eyes watch the investigation unfold before them; Liam, of course, is heading up operations. Killian kisses the top of her head. His eyes follow his other hand as it comes to rest on Emma’s belly. “There’s a pup in there who needs looking after.” He can feel her eyes roll as her hand comes up to slap him in the sternum. “Trust me, she’s fine,” Emma assures him. Exhaling heavily, she straightens up. “Well, let’s get this over with.” She leaves him to his own thoughts, approaching the EMTs already unloading an unnecessary gurney. Killian, however, feels starry-eyed and struck with awe. A lot has happened in the past, oh, 48 hours, far too many conversations and revelations to process in a timely matter. His mind’s probably just filed away Neal agreeing to come to Storybrooke and discuss matter with his father. But this is the coup de grace. Because as his Swan nonchalantly revealed, both of his girls are fine. Both. His eyes widening, Killian scrubs his hand over his face. Then he rakes it through his hair. And then he stands there, watching Emma reluctantly accept the ministrations of the EMTs from afar, hands on his hips. She can’t have said that and meant it, right? She’s tired and coming down from an adrenaline high, not to mention any potential mental or physical trauma she might be experiencing. It was a mere slip of the tongue. It had to be. Slowly, Killian makes his way to the ambulance, its sirens gone quiet until its next emergency, muddling his way through the brink of a mental breakdown as he dodges officers taking evidence and such. Emma’s sitting on the metal ledge on the back of the medical truck, one of those silly aluminium blankets wrapped over her shoulders. She looks frustrated with the medics asking her questions, her eyes on the verge of rolling out of her head. Still, she sits and nods until he comes up to them, catching the tail end of their conversation. “Just watch how much you exert yourself for a couple days,” the EMT says, patting Emma on the shoulder. “Take a day or two off, catch up on your Netflix queue.” “You sound just like him and his brother.” The medic shoots Killian a glance. “Sheriff Swan, I hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty sure they want the best for you, just like we all do.” Emma sighs. “I know, Craig. Thank you.” Unable to say anything, Killian nods to the EMTs. They take their leave, heading back to report Emma’s condition for the police report. He scratches behind his ear, unsure of how to address the entire situation that’s presented itself to him. “I’m fine,” Emma reassures him, grabbing his hand. She smiles softly, looking up at him. Sure, he was worried for her, he always is, but that’s not his main concern at the moment. It takes him a couple more seconds to formulate the question he wishes to ask. When it comes out, all he can say is, “She’s fine?” Emma hums in confusion for a second. “Yeah. Was that something I didn’t tell you?” Killian laughs, straight up chortles, releasing all the nerves he’s had pent up for days. “I thought you told the doctor, and I am quoting you directly, ‘This kid was a surprise, so might as well hold out to the end.’”

Inhaling through her teeth, Emma responds, “I did.” She squints, her nose scrunching up in the adorably recognizable way that she does when she’s feeling a bit guilty. “I don’t know, call it instinct or something, but we’re having a girl.”

Brow raised, Killian nudges her, swinging their hands gently. “How sure would you say you are?”

Emma winces again, her head swaying from side to side. “Like, 99 percent sure.” Killian feels his jaw drop and hang perilously close to the ground. Shrugging, Emma continues, “I don’t know! It’s just sort of this vibe, sort of like our bond. There aren’t any words, but I’m confident that the pup here,” she gestures toward her stomach before looking him straight in the eye, “is a little girl.”

“A girl.” It’s unbelievable. Every day since Emma told him, Killian’s had to reconcile with the fact that they’ll actually be parents in a matter of months. But now, armed with the knowledge that he’s most likely going to be father to a daughter, he’s gobsmacked. He grabs Emma’s cheeks and all but yanks her into yet another passionate kiss and embrace. When he pulls back, she’s got this smile on her face that he’s sure is even dopier on his face. “Thank you, my love,” he whispers. Then he sits up straight, his face serious. “She’s not dating until she’s 30.”

Laughing out right, Emma caresses his cheek, the scratch of her nails comforting through his facial hair. “She’s not even here yet and you’re a mess.”

Their conversation is put on hold as Liam, official sheriff’s office face on, comes over.  He brushes off his hands and sticks his notepad in his back pocket. “So he’s injured, but under arrest for kidnapping at least,” he explains, looking at the pair of them. “Probably something else like reckless endangerment of a child or something. EMTS will take him to the hospital and then we’ll book him.” Sighing, Liam rubs at his brow and then reaches for Emma, gently holding her forearm. “Are you okay, Emma?”

She shakes her head, an exasperated chuckle issuing from her mouth. “As I told your brother here, we are fine. Even the professionals say so,” she assures him. “A little shaken up and a little sore because I don’t bend that way anymore, but otherwise still healthy on all fronts.” Pointing at her stomach, Emma adds, “Still pregnant.”

“Yes, I deduced that,” Liam laughs. Then he glances at Killian. His mind isn’t keeping up with the conversation completely. He’s still stuck on the fact that they’re going to have a daughter and how he isn’t going to allow her out of the house with a boy ever. “Killian? You there? Would you like us to rehash the conversation there, little brother?”

Killian shakes his head, breaking himself out of his thoughts of the future. He looks to Emma, whose hand has, at some point, slid into his. “Does he know?” he asks.

With a small grin and a scoff, she shakes her head. “Do you really think that’s something I would tell Liam before I tell you, the father of this child?”

“Tell me what?”

Cocking his brow, Killian squeezes Emma’s hand. “May I tell him?”

“Tell me what? He asks again, this time a little more concerned. “What’s going on? You said you were alright.”

Emma nods in response to Killian’s question and he is helpless to the bright smile that rocks his face. He looks to Liam as he moves his arm to wrap it around her shoulders and pulls her close. “Despite telling the doctor she wanted to keep it a secret, Swan here has just informed me that she’s quite sure we are going to be the proud parents of a daughter.”

“A daughter?” Liam repeats breathlessly. “A little girl?” His smile is identical to Killian’s when he claps his hands over his mouth and laughs into them. Then he grabs his brother’s free hand and pumps it up and down enthusiastically in congratulations. Together, they all laugh in happiness.

And then Emma’s face falls a little bit as her laughter turns into expectant surprise. “Oh no,” she mumbles.

Killian’s hands fly to her stomach and Liam goes to hold her as if she’s about to fall. “What’s wrong?” Liam asks as Killian asks, “Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

Shaking her head and chuckling, Emma waves them off. “Nope, still good,” she reassures them. “No, I just realized that you two are going to fight for her affections from the moment she’s born.” Looking to Liam, she says, “Are you going to keep her from dating until she’s 30 as well?”

“Of course,” Liam says vehemently. “But if and when she decides to go behind your backs, Uncle Liam will be there to help hide their relationship and be there to pick up the pieces of her broken heart.” He holds up his hands, conceding to getting ahead of all of them, frankly. “So long as I am her favorite uncle, I’ll follow your lead.”

“I have a feeling that won’t be too difficult to swing,” Emma says, resting her hand on her stomach.

“I don’t know,” Killian jests, quickly scanning the scores of first responders, all who know Emma and care for their sheriff. “This town has quite a few contenders.”

“I was gonna say, I might have to concede to Craig,” Liam jokes.

“Yeah, but Craig doesn’t have an in like you do,” Emma reminds him with a smile.

Liam steps forward and gently hugs Emma as best he can. She presses her lips to his cheek before he pulls away. Then he slaps Killian on the shoulder and pulls him into a tight hug. “Congrats, little brother,” he says quietly before addressing the both of them with, “Congrats to the both of you.”

Emma and Killian barely have enough time to utter a thank you before Liam’s fellow officers are calling him back to the scene. He waves them away for another minute, his face one of obvious undesire, and looks back at Killian.

“I’ve got to get back to the station and tell his son. Might as well drop him off at the hospital as well while I’m at it. You guys want to catch a ride?” he asks.

Even if he weren’t standing next to her, still looking her over for any sign of harm, and even if they were connected by a bond that immediately floods with the feeling of no, Killian knows Emma’s answer would be “Not if hell had frozen over.” However, with recent events and a knack for not censoring herself lately, Killian squeezes her shoulder and responds to his brother’s offer for her.

“No, that’s okay, we can ride with someone else.”

Nodding, Liam gives them both one last hug before returning to his official duties as acting sheriff. He departs them with a warning: “I’m still going to be favorite uncle. Don’t let any of these blokes here convince you otherwise.”

Killian chuckles and Emma merely smiles. Her one hand cradles the bottom of her belly as the other strokes over it. Watching her do so makes a stupid silly grin grow on his face. One that she spots easily.

“You want to feel her?” she asks. WIthout waiting for his answer, she takes the hand that isn’t wrapped around her shoulders and places it on her stomach. Killian watches as she closes her eyes and leans her head on his shoulder. Their little girl wiggles around beneath his hand, a welcome relief.

(It’s not that he didn’t believe Swan. It’s just comforting to feel the evidence himself.)

“Talk to her,” Emma insists.

Of course, he does as she asks. Killian kneels before Emma, his hands carefully and precisely framing her stomach. He rests his forehead against her shirt, the pup scent wafting around ever so slightly at this distance.

“Hello there, little one,” he whispers. A foot reaches out and knicks the tip of his nose. He chuckles. “I'm so relieved you and your mum are okay.” He feels Emma’s fingers slide into his hair, scratching at his scalp, and he sighs. “You aren’t even here yet and you’ve already had quite the adventure, haven’t you?”

The longer he talks to her - no topic in particular gripping their interests - the more an overwhelming sense of love consumes him. If he weren’t already on his knees, he doesn’t see how he wouldn’t collapse. It leaves him breathless. There’s something off about it, something fluid but all encompassing. It’s as if he’s struggling to remember a word he knows exists and coming up empty.

“That’s her.” Emma’s voice still shows small signs of her trauma, harsh around the edges, but it’s strong. Killian stops talking for a moment and looks up at her. Despite her fingers in his hair, he half thought that Emma had fallen asleep standing up. Her eyes ease open and match his. “That feeling you don’t understand. That’s her. Every time you talk to her, that’s what I feel.”

It’s amazing. Incredible. Extraordinary. That their daughter loves him so much at this time in her life and he gets to feel it through nothing less than a miracle. Moved, Killian stands quickly and wraps his arms around Emma. He pulls her into his embrace and kisses her soundly. Her laughter vibrates wonderfully against his lips. Her smile tastes of sunshine.  

“Already daddy’s little girl,” she remarks.

“Just like her mother, aye?” Killian bends down slightly as Emma laughs. He means to speak only to his daughter, knowing that Swan will hear him, but hoping she doesn’t choose to address it. “I love you, too,” he says to her stomach. “But we aren’t going to tell Uncle Liam that yet. Let’s let him think he’s going to have a fighting chance, aye?”

Killian gasped awake, eyes shooting wide and hands grabbing tight on his sheets. It was that dream again, about the girl - Alice. Papa, she called him, but he did not have a daughter that he knew of. He had been having these dreams for years, and they never made any sense. He always woke up filled with an inexplicable desperation, like he needed to get back to that strange girl.

Every doctor he had been to had said the same thing - they were just dreams. How else could he explain the strange surroundings he found himself in during these dreams. Most times it was with this young girl, Alice, in some kind of a room, high up in a tower. Sometimes, there was another blonde woman, but he has never seen her face. He could not pick her out of a line-up if he had to, in all honesty. But unlike the dreams with the girl, whenever he dreamed of that woman, he woke up crying and his chest hurting.

There were days that he cursed these dreams - they remind him just how truly alone he was in this world. He had a brother once, who he served with in the Navy, but that seemed like it was centuries ago. He did not have a daughter, nor did he know blonde woman like the one plaguing his dreams. He had no one. Why would his mind taunt him so? Show him this life, in this strange land - when all he had was a 20-year sober chip and a job that doesn’t necessarily require him to stay in one place. He’d been searching, going from city to city, town to town, looking for a place to call home.

He’d been in this seaside town for the past two months, and as much as he enjoyed how quaint it was, it just didn’t feel right. Not that he could tell anyone what was - all he knew was he would feel it the moment it was right - he would have found home. Whatever this town was, it was not that.

Killian sighed, trying to put the dream out of his mind, slipping out of bed, grabbing his phone on the way. He punched in his agent’s number, putting him on speaker as he went about starting his morning brew.

“Hello, Jones. Which part of the world are you calling from now?” came Will’s voice, an undertone of exasperation barely concealed.

“I’m still in England, Will,” Killian replied, rolling his eyes. “No need to be an arse so early in the morning.” He turned on the coffee maker, grabbing his phone off the countertop. “Did you get the new chapters I sent you a couple of days ago?”

“Ah, that. Yes, I did. Great work, man. They are great, just a few notes from your editor. I’m sending you an e-mail about it as we speak. But we are quite ahead of schedule so far.”

“Good, good,” Killian mumbled. “I might be leaving this town soon. It doesn’t seem right.”

“Colour me surprised. What is right, Jones? You’ve been travelling like a fucking hermit.” Will’s tone was starting to grate on Killian’s nerves.

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Sanders.” Killian scowled at the wall. He did not need yet another person questioning his decisions - he was doing enough of that himself.

There was a tense silence over the phone before Will finally spoke. “All right. I don’t have any rights to question how you live your life. Just remember that once you’re done with this book, you need to do at least some touring and book signings.”

Killian resisted the urge to groan. As much as he enjoyed the life of leisure being a published author offered, the public appearances and PR were his least favorite part of his job.

“Yes, I remember. There’s still time for that, is there not? I’ll be back stateside in three months.”

“For good? Or just for the book?”

“Well, it’s not to see your ugly mug, mate. I’ll talk to you soon, Will.” And with that dismissal, he hung up. He fixed himself a cup of coffee, carrying it over to his designated work station. He passed a mirror on the way, pausing to stare at his reflection. He stared at it long and hard, trying to find any change in it, but he didn’t. Not one grey hair, not one wrinkle. The same face he has been staring at for the past 20 years - nothing has changed. He realised this little fact about himself a few years ago. He has not aged a day in 20 years. He does not remember what triggered it - he does not remember much, if he was brave enough to admit it. His memory of the past 20 years are pristine, he could remember every single detail. But before that? It was all a blur, like a dream. One could only laugh at that irony: somehow his dreams seem more real than his past.

He shook his head, walking away from the mirror and sitting at his desk. Taking a long sip from his mug, he pulled his sketchpad towards him, grabbing a spare bit of charcoal and scratching out a rough portrait of the girl from his dreams, etching her image on paper, hoping to trigger something that would make him understand why he kept seeing her, why she called him ‘Papa’. And who the mysterious blonde was.

-/-

20 years ago : Enchanted Forest

Killian was woken from his slumber by soft murmuring around him. “Swan, settle down and go back to sleep, love,” he grumbled, reaching for his lady-love with an outstretched arm. They were finally able to convince Alice to stay the night with Smee while they stole a night to themselves.

When his arm met the sheets covering their bed at the inn where they’d spent the night, instead of Emma’s soft skin, his eyes flew open. He scrambled out of bed, reaching for his trousers when he heard her laughter. He turned around, pants hanging loosely around his hips, unlaced and held up with just his hand. There she sat, in one corner of the room, wearing his shirt - and naught else - a book in her hand. “You’re- you’re reading?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Hook. I was brought up a princess, you know,” she teased, sliding out of her perch, the book landing on the floor with a thud.

He grabbed her when she was within arms’ reach, hand curling on her hip, lips grazing hers gently. “Aye, I know, Princess.” He pulled back before she could deepen their kiss. “I am a little hurt that you chose to read a book, when you could have woken me up. We could have engaged in more, ah..enjoyable activities.” When he noticed her hesitation, he felt his insecurities flare up - it had been a while since he’d been with a woman. In fact, that wretched witch was the last person he had been intimate with. He backed away a little from Emma, his arms dropping to his side. “Unless, of course it wasn’t enjoyable for you, love. I- it has been a while.”

“Oh, no, no. Killian, no,” Emma was quick to assure him, her hand coming up to rest on his chest, right over his heart. “No, last night was perfect. You were perfect, I promise.” Her cheeks tinted lightly at the boyish grin that took over his face. She turned back to grab the large tome before she faced him again. “I was reading this - a grimoire. I wanted to see if I could find some way to break Alice out of that tower. I’ve been doing my own research, but I did not want to tell you and Alice before I found something concrete. I couldn’t do that to you.”

Killian felt his throat close up, his heart clenching at her gesture. He had always known that Emma cared for his Alice almost as much as he did - it was because of his love for Alice that it took him almost a year to warm up to Emma’s presence in their lives. But knowing something and seeing proof of it were two very different things.

“I- I couldn’t give up. I know I promised I would be more careful with my magic, but I just...,” Emma shrugged, trialing off, having mistook his silence for anger.

He was quick to reassure her, pulling her into his arms in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Emma. I do not know what Alice and I would do without you in our lives,” he whispered, his voice breaking at the end.

He felt Emma’s smile against his chest, her arms clenched tight around the book. “You never have to find out.”

-/-

Present : Land without Magic

There were so many things Killian was grateful for, but the internet had to be the most important. It was much easier to find a great place to stay, that still afforded him the solitude that he craved, thanks to the wonder of AirBnB. He rubbed his hands together, warming them up as he walked down the small hill his lone house was on, his reusable shopping bag and notebook keeping him company. As much as he has moved around, he was still a creature of habit. He had made himself the same dinner every Saturday - a pot of hot stew and some marmalade sandwiches for a light snack later. And every Friday, like today, he would walk into town, hit up the local markets and do a spot of shopping. Then, he would spend the day people watching, sitting at the benches in the city center. He would describe everything he saw around him - from the changing weather, to the street musicians playing their tune. The sight of the fresh fruits and vegetables at the market; the ruckus created by students who had survived yet another week. All of it, he would note down - he would build his own stories, even.

He might fool everyone, sometimes even himself, into thinking all of this was for research. But he had been doing this for as long as he could remember, as if he was writing things for someone stuck in a prison, hoping that his writing would provide them with some semblance of the world outside. He couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t done this - but he had no one to share these stories with. So even as he filled notebook after notebook, each of various shape and size, some leather bound with parchment paper, some of them scraps of napkins bound together - even as he recorded everything, the only purpose it served was collecting dust at the house he had in Atlanta - the one and only residence he has had throughout his adult life. The same one he had bought twenty years ago, a quaint blue house with a wraparound porch and a white picket fence, waiting for the day it will be called ‘home’.

And so like clockwork, Killian sat at his usual bench, his view of the town unencumbered from this point, and observed the ongoings. Somehow, this time, his heart was not in it. His dreams had become more frequent recently, and he was loathe to go back on the pills he had been prescribed. They stopped the dreams completely, but that made him feel even worse, even more alone. As much as the dreams - and their characters - haunted him, their absence made it harder for him to survive his lonely existence.

Will had told him over the years that if only he would put himself out there, if only he would come out of his shell and interact, even if it was to simply make a friend, he would feel much better. But he never felt inclined to; he felt like he was supposed to be miserable. He was used to this feeling, and somehow, letting go of it seems unfathomable.

He snapped himself from where his thoughts drifted to, his gaze refocusing on what was in front of him. And the moment his vision became clear, the first thing he saw was the same head of blonde hair from his dreams, disappearing around the corner. He blinked, his breath caught in his throat. He stood immediately, squinting at the lane where he caught the glimpse of the blonde - hair the exact shade of spun gold as from his dreams. His bag and notebook forgotten, he took off in her direction.

For so long, he had been struggling with thoughts that maybe his dreams were more than just that, but had dismissed the thoughts almost as quickly as they had come. But something in his heart told him to follow the blonde, that maybe she might help - whether it was to break the illusion or to strengthen it, he wasn’t sure yet. He wasn’t sure what he wanted the outcome to be either.

He went around the corner he had seen her turn, which led him down a tiny alley. The only place that seemed to be open was an antiquities shop, with a single flickering light on at the display window. Alice and her ‘round the world Wonders, the sign read.

“Alice…” he whispered softly to himself, his incredulity evident. “It can’t be.” He pushed through the door, the bell above the door ringing through the empty shop.

“Hello?” he called out, suddenly feeling a little breathless, as if in anticipation. He waited with bated breath, but no one turned up for a whole two minutes. Just as he was about to call out again, someone pushed past the curtains, stepping through.

Killian felt disappointment settle in his chest when he saw the woman who walked into the room. She was definitely blonde, but she was not the woman from his dreams, of that he was certain. All the built up anticipation of the past few minutes drained out of him. He simple stared at her unable to do much more than force a smile in return to her smiling at him. He was certain the woman he’d seen turn down the alley had been her, but it was not the woman from the shop.

She was dressed plain enough, but her heavy array of braids gave her an air of eccentricity; and as friendly and welcoming as she seemed to think her smile was, it made the hair on the back of Killian’s neck stand up.

“Can I help you?” she asked him, approaching the counter.

As much as he wanted to bolt from this shop, and from this woman, he had a feeling she might have some answers for him. “Erm, no. I was simply looking around,” he replied after a long pause. He turned around, pretending to be interested in an old windmill, running his finger over the blades. “Curious name your shop’s got,” he commented. “Alice… is that you?” he asked, smiling and hoping that she wouldn’t suspect anything, before turning away.

He noticed her stiffen out of the corner of his eye, before she cleared her throat and plastered a smile back on her face. “Ah, no. I knew an Alice, a very long time ago. The name just felt fitting.” She waited a beat before adding, “I’m Eloise. And you’re Killian Jones.”

Hackles raised, he turned to face her again, his jaw clenching involuntarily. “How do you know my name?”

He could have sworn he saw her smirk, but he blinked and it was gone, replaced by a sheepish smile. “I’m a huge fan of your books - the life of a pirate captain and all that.”

Killian was not entirely convinced by her answer, but he had no real reason to doubt her, save for an odd gut feeling. “I did not realise you’d recognise me.”

“Yes, you do look a bit different with the beard,” Eloise commented. “But not unrecognisable.”

Something in the way she phrased it made Killian feel like he was under sharp scrutiny. Whatever he was looking for, this Eloise seemed to have a whole other agenda, one he was not going to wait around and watch play out. “I should get going. But it was nice to meet you Eloise.” Killian started retreating, but she stopped him.

“Wait! I would be really happy if you took a token of appreciation. Your stories mean a lot to me, especially the Princess you write about.”

“The Swan Princess?” he asked, unable to help himself. He felt a strong tug in his chest when he said those words, as if it recognised who he was talking about. But that was impossible: the Swan Princess was just a character that he had made up.

Instead of dwelling on those thoughts, he simply said,“I am really glad you like my work, lass. I appreciate it. But I must get going.”

“Of course. I don’t want to keep you long.” Eloise pulled a painting from under the counter, holding it out to Killian.

He stepped closer, looking at the painting of a ship in the middle of the ocean depicted in the calm before the storm. As mesmerising as the painting itself was, he was more concerned with the signature at the bottom - Alice.

“Who did this?” he demanded, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. “Who is Alice?”

Eloise brows furrowed in concern at his harsh tone. “Mr. Jones, I’m sorry if I did something to offend you. But I simply wanted to give you this painting because it reminds me of your stories. As for Alice...well, she did make this. But I’m afraid she’s not with us anymore.”

Rationally, Killian knew that there was no way that the Alice Eloise spoke of was the girl from his dreams. But his heart clenched just hearing that. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he muttered, walking away from Eloise and her store, leaving the painting behind.

As soon as he was out of sight, Eloise’s startled expression slipped into a smirk. “Oh, I finally found you, Captain Hook,” she whispered. She flipped the ‘closed’ sign on the door, and headed into the backroom again.

-/-

20 years ago : Enchanted Forest

“Do you really think it is a good idea to keep this from Alice?” Emma asked, biting her lip. “She might want to know - she was vying for this.”

“As much as I want to shout from the mountain tops how much I care about you, Emma - and it is a lot, believe you me, lass - I just do not want her to think this is more than it is.” When he saw Emma’s face fall, he wanted to kick himself for how he phrased it. “I didn’t mean to sound so flippant, love. I don’t want any kind of pressure on you, and if we tell Alice, she might think that we are-”

“So let her,” Emma said, cutting him off. She stepped up to him, her eyes meeting his determinedly. “There’s no pressure here, but I’m in this for the long haul, Killian Jones. If that scares you, well, I-” She huffed, losing steam. “I’ll have to challenge you to a duel - and I will end up defeating you.”

Killian grinned widely at her, kissing her chastely. “Aye, I have no doubt you will, darling. I would gladly surrender to you, Your Highness.”

Emma flushed, slapping his arm lightly. “Are you ready to tell your daughter that she will soon be free?” Emma could swear that the smile that took over her pirate’s face rivaled even the bright rays of the sun.

-/-

Present : Land without Magic

“Ms. Swan? I think I found the man that you have been looking for.” Emma sat up straight at that. While she had hoped utilizing Mr. Castle’s private investigation services would come to fruition, she had not realised it would be quite this soon. If she had realised how efficient this land’s resources were, she would have relied on them much earlier.

“Are you sure? Killian Jones?” she asked, starting to pace.

“Ms. Swan, Killian Jones is quite a famous writer. I am not unfamiliar with who he is.” Emma could almost hear his condescension. “But he is elusive and an extremely private person, so he was a bit harder to track down.”

“But you did, did you not? Track him down?” Emma asked, irritated by Castle dragging the issue.

“Of course, as I assured you. He’s in a small town in south-eastern England. He is coming back to the United States in three months for a book tour.”

Emma’s elation was unparalleled to anything else in the world. She clutched the ring hanging around her neck tight, as tears pricked behind her eyelids. “Thank you, Mr. Castle. Do you have an address?”

Once she had hung up on the call with Castle, she let a few tears fall - tears of joy, of course, but of sorrow as well. She had to bring him back to all the chaos and pain that he had left. She had to bring him back before she had the cure she’d promised him. She absentmindedly rubbed at her chest, an echo of pain and frustration running parallel to her own emotions. It had been twenty years, but she would never get used to this connection she had with Killian - a curse and a blessing all in one; her life was tied to his in many ways, and being able to sense his feelings was the cruelest of it all.

She could still remember so clearly the day they had parted, could feel the flow of the energy as he linked their lives together; she was unable to age, just like all Dark Ones. Because of him, her light magic was forever corrupted now. She hated him for that: she hated him for leaving her with all the pain and the memories, while he walked into another world, without her, without Alice, and without his memories. But she could never hate him more than she loved him. Emma touched the ring again, her heart settling as she remembered his promise to her - the promise of a happy future, no matter how long it took them to get there. She had made him a promise in turn - to find a way to cure him of the darkness that plagued his soul - and to not come for him before then.

Unfortunately, Gothel had a more sinister plot in mind. After two decades, she had managed to break free of her bonds. Emma had no choice to come for him before that wretched witch found him. Killian was not the only reason Emma had come, of course. There was another person she needed to save, but she knew she had to find Killian Jones first. He would be the only one who could get Alice back.

-/-

Eloise waved at the back wall of her store, sparks of dark magic expelling from her hand. The wall shimmered before disappearing completely, revealing an elaborate garden on the other side, with a glass coffin in the middle, covered in vines. She walked up to it, her hand running over the vines, watching as they retreated at her touch.

Emma sighed, “You know that’s acting, right? It’s part of my job. And his.”

Henry’s brow creased in confusion the way it always did when she tried to explain this aspect of performing. “Yeah, you’ve said that before, but . . . “

“Hey,” Emma said, crouching down to kneel by the bed, “you don’t have to worry about me dating. You come first, kiddo, always.”

Henry nodded. “I know. But if you wanted to go on a date, it would be okay with me.”

Emma tilted her head. “You want me to go out with Killian?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Henry said, picking at a tear in the binding of his book, “I mean I like him and all, it’s just . . . you having a boyfriend or whatever will be weird to get used to.”

“Whoa, hold up, who said anything about a boyfriend?” Emma asked, raising both hands in the air.

“You know what I mean,” Henry laughed and rolled his eyes. He looked so much like her in that moment, it was uncanny. “Just don’t kiss in front of me. Or on tv again. I think I’m scarred for life.”

It was Emma’s turn to roll her eyes as she stood up and straightened out his blanket. By the time she made it to the door, he was already engrossed in his book again. As she gently closed the door, she heard her cell phone ringing and dashed to retrieve it from where it sat charging on the kitchen counter. Killian’s name was on the screen.

“Hey,” she said as she answered, a smile filling her face. Killian calling or texting just to chat had become fairly common since that night on his yacht, and she couldn’t deny that seeing his name pop up always brightened her mood.

“Emma,” he replied, and she could tell immediately from his tone that it wasn’t a mere social call, “I wanted you to know that Belle’s staying here at my place tonight. We tried to take precautions, but I didn’t want you waking up tomorrow and seeing something in the tabloids.”

Emma was touched that he had considered her feelings and was trying to be upfront, but she was more concerned about her friend’s safety. “Is Belle okay?”

Killian let out a shaky breath. “Gold came to her house.”

“Oh my God,” Emma breathed out as she sank down to the arm of her love seat. Across the room, Elsa sat up from the couch, her eyes wide with concern.

“She wasn’t home, thank God,” Killian replied, “but her neighbor saw him poking around the property, peeking in windows and everything. They knew about the restraining order, so they called the cops.”

“Please tell me they threw his ass in jail.”

Elsa started whispering a million questions, and Emma waved at her to wait.

“Not yet. He was gone by the time they got there, and he wasn’t at his penthouse either. Belle was freaked out, obviously, so I told her she could stay here. My place is gated with a state of the art security system,” he paused. “Are you okay with it?”

She couldn’t believe he was even considering her feelings in the matter. After all, it wasn’t like they were seeing each other. Nevertheless, the gesture and his honesty was incredibly sweet.

“Of course it’s okay,” she told him. She gnawed her lip for a moment before adding, “You’re a good man, Killian Jones.”

He chuckled, and she could imagine him scratching behind his ear and ducking his head. “Don’t know about that, but it would be a poor friend indeed who didn’t offer help to the lass.”

Emma heard a voice in the background that she assumed was Belle’s. It sounded as if Killian were turning away from the phone to talk to her, then he came back on the line. “Belle wants to talk to you.”

There was a shuffling as the phone changed hands. “Hi, Emma,” Belle said, “I feel awful about all of this. You were right, I should never have tried talking to him. He showed up at my house because I told him to stop texting me, I know it.”

“Don’t you dare apologize, Belle, none of this is your fault. You tried to see the good in someone. No one can fault you for that.”

“Thanks,” she said with a sigh, “though I have my doubts about that. Killian called Regina, and she says that the finale can’t be filmed out at The Grove anymore.”

“Again, that’s because of Gold, not you,” Emma insisted. “They have to make sure everyone is safe, fans included. The finale will be just as nice in the studio.”

“Despite Gold, I have made so many friends doing this show. You, Killian, Jefferson –“

“Liam,” Emma teased, and Belle laughed.

“Yes, him too. Killian says his flight comes in Saturday so that –“ Killian’s voice interrupted the conversation in the background, and Emma heard Belle say, “he doesn’t have to do that!” Then she came back on with Emma. “Correction, he changed his flight to tomorrow. He’s worried about me, apparently.”

“Well, that’s the Jones brothers for you, I guess,” Emma chuckled.

Belle’s voice lowered, “You’re right about that. So when will you snag one for yourself?”

“Belle!”

She laughed at Emma’s indignant reaction. By that point, Elsa was about to burst a blood vessel begging to know what was going on, so Emma quickly ended the call. She filled her sister in on everything, including the cancelling of the outdoor venue for the finale.

“That’s a shame,” Elsa sighed, “but safety has to come first.”

“That’s what I told Belle,” Emma agreed. She tilted her head at her sister. “Speaking of the finale, are you and Graham prepared to dance on the show again now that your relationship has gone public?” The finale always featured favorite dances from all the couples, and Elsa and Graham would be dancing their “Human” routine again from the most memorable year week.

“Oh sure,” Elsa replied breezily, a mischievous light gleaming in her blue eyes, “we might even add a kiss to the end of the routine this time around.”

Emma tossed a throw pillow at her sister’s head as Elsa dissolved into giggles. Apparently, no one, not even her family, would let Emma live down that spontaneous kiss.

********************************************************

“Are you ready?” Emma asked Killian, feeling strangely shy. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she grasped the door knob to the rehearsal studio.

Killian swallowed hard and nodded, for once speechless. Emma nodded back and slowly opened the door. She had never made it this far in the competition, so this particular tradition of the show was new to her. The effect took her breath away. She turned in a circle, her hands at her lips and her eyes blinking back tears as she took in the gorgeous photographs lining the walls; one for each of their dances throughout the season. Killian came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

“It’s a bit overwhelming,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Emma whispered as she crossed the room to the photograph of the two of them in their samba that very first week. They were smiling at one another, and Killian’s hands rested at her hips, the fringe of her dress frozen mid-shimmy. Emma cocked her head as she looked at her smiling face. That week, it had been fake. Now, the smiles that filled her face when dancing with Killian were real. She sighed and swallowed down the sadness that welled up inside of her.

“Remember this one?” Killian said from the other side of the room.

She turned and smiled at the picture he was pointing at. They were dressed in their nerdy outfits with those black-rimmed glasses perched on their noses for their jive to Sk8er Boi. Emma was crooking her finger to get his attention, and Killian’s face held an exaggerated expression of shock. She giggled remembering how much fun that jive was.

“I think that was a turning point for me,” Killian told her. He pulled her to him in a side embrace. “Thank you, for everything.”

“I’ll miss you,” she told him honestly, not caring that their conversation was being filmed.

He embraced her and kissed the top of her head. “And I you. Not a day will go by that I won’t think of you, Swan.”

Emma chuckled and gave him a playful shove. “Good.” Her gaze rested on a photograph of a romantic embrace from filming just two days ago. The intimacy displayed there was almost too much, so she quickly averted her eyes. “So,” she said, clearing her throat, “ready to do that Nirvana dance again?”

“Absolutely. It’s my favorite, you know.”

She smiled and laced their fingers together. “Then let’s get to work, partner.”

******************************************************

Emma’s only experiences with finales on Dancing with the Stars was in the troupe. It was a completely different experience dancing it as one of the finalists. She had expected it to be emotional and nerve-wracking, but instead it all went by in a blur. She and Killian barely had a moment alone, rushed from a group routine, to their Nirvana routine, to another group routine, then to the balcony for multiple interviews. Emma also had to dance a group routine with all six female pros, and a duet with her brother for a performance by a guest pop star.

Killian tried on multiple occasions to pull her aside for a private conversation, but there honestly wasn’t enough time to spare. And maybe, in a tiny way, Emma was avoiding the inevitable goodbye, or trying to make it easier on herself. Expressing emotions off the dance floor had never been her strength, after all.

It was ridiculous in a way that the finale was two hours long. The only thing anyone really cared about was the announcement of the winner. Of course, that moment was dragged out until the final five minutes of air time. Only then were the final three couples lined up on the dance floor: Aurora and Sean, Belle and Jefferson, and Emma and Killian.

“The third place couple,” Marco announced, pausing an inordinate amount of time, “is . . . Aurora Briar and Sean Herman!”

There was polite clapping as Aurora and Sean hugged the other four competitors. Aurora didn’t seem too disappointed as she rushed to embrace her brand new fiancé. The lights dimmed further, the spotlights intensifying on the final two couples. Killian tightened his hold on her waist and pressed his cheek to the top of her head.

“I want to win this,” he whispered, “but not for me, Emma, for you.”

She squeezed his hand, her throat too dry to answer.

“And the winner,” Marco announced, “of this season of Dancing with the Stars . . . winner of the coveted mirror ball . . . is . . . “

Emma refrained from rolling her eyes at the ridiculous way they were dragging things out. She felt her heart might burst out of her chest from the anticipation.

“ . . . Killian Jones and Emma Swan!”

Emma had never been a fainting type of woman, but in that moment, her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. Killian practically caught her in his embrace as a confetti cannon blasted glittery pieces of paper all around them. The entire cast burst onto the dance floor, and Emma couldn’t tell who was hugging her. David and Graham hoisted Killian into the air on their shoulders, and Jefferson handed him the mirror ball trophy. Killian lifted it in triumph above his head. Then he patted David’s shoulder, gesturing to Emma. David put him down, and Killian rushed to her. She was afraid for a moment that he was going to grab her and kiss her. Not that she wouldn’t have enjoyed it, but they couldn’t have blamed such a display of affection on acting or choreography.

He didn’t kiss her. Instead, he bowed dramatically, presenting the trophy to her as if she were a princess on a throne high above him. She took it but shook her head at him. His eyes locked with hers, and he seemed to understand her meaning. He reached out and grasped the heavy trophy as well, and together they hoisted it into the air above both their heads. The meaning was clear; they had won this together.

************************************************************

Emma stood before the mirror in her trailer attempting to comb the hairspray out of her curls. She then smoothed out the stiff strands and twisted them into a messy braid. She then slipped into a navy blue wrap sundress and strappy white sandals. The media was always lurking around the lot after the finale for interviews, and she didn’t want to look like a mess in front of the cameras. She was just about to grab her dance bag and keys when a knock sounded at her trailer door. When she opened it, Killian was standing at the bottom of the steps looking up at her. His eyes brightened and a smile graced his face at the sight of her.

“You look lovely, Swan.”

She shrugged. “I know.”

They both laughed, a touch of nervousness in both their voices.

“You slipped out without saying goodbye,” he told her.

She glanced down and began to fiddle with the sash at her waist. “I’m not really a tearful goodbye person.”

“Well that’s kind of why I stopped by. You see, it’s not that big of a goodbye.”

Emma’s head snapped up to meet his gaze. “It’s not?”

He inclined his head. “May I come in?”

“Um . . . sure,” she said, stepping back to let him through the door.

The entire season, he had never been inside her trailer. It seemed odd now to see him in the small space. He picked up a photo of her and Elsa backstage last season, then one of her and David at their first ballroom competition when they were 13. He smiled fondly at both then turned to her with his hands in his pockets.

“I just told Regina that I’ll do the tour after all.”

Emma’s eyes widened as she took a step towards him. There was always a six week tour following the close of each season, but Killian’s contract had specified that he would be unavailable because of Neverland’s shooting schedule.

“How did you manage that?” she asked him.

“Well, the tour starts a couple of days after New Years’ and goes to mid-February. Filming for Neverland starts on January 31st, so I’ll just be suffering from serious jet lag for two weeks in February.” He quirked a brow at her. “I mean, I just won the show. Ticket sales will suffer if I don’t go, right?”

Emma tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s all it is? What’s best for the show?”

He didn’t shy away from her gaze. “You know it’s more than that, Emma.”

She shook her head. “It won’t change anything. Neverland ends, then you’re expected in London.”

“We could make it work,” he replied softly. He reached out with one hand to fiddle with the end of her braid.

She stepped back. “With an entire country and an ocean between us? It’ll only end in heartbreak.”

He nodded, his shoulders slumping. “Then I’ll cherish those six weeks all the more.” Then he slipped silently past her, pausing when he got to the door. “My flight for London leaves tonight, remember?”

“I know.”

Emma turned away as he closed the door. She collapsed onto the sofa behind her after he left, her emotions leaving her slightly dazed. She rubbed her forehead wearily as she tried to process what he had just told her. They had six more weeks together. Dancing together almost every night, sharing tight quarters on a tour bus. She thought of the men she sometimes took back to her hotel room in some of the cities they stopped in. And now Killian Jones might be across the hall. She thought of the sexual tension always buzzing between them and began to massage her neck as her throat tightened. The whole thing was a bad idea in every possible way.

She jumped as another knock sounded at her door. She marched angrily across the trailer and yanked it open. “Killian, I’ve said all I need to-“ she stopped abruptly when she saw the woman standing there. “Oh . . . Mom! I thought you were someone else.”

Ingrid chuckled. “Obviously.”

Blushing, Emma waved her in, accepting her offered hug.

“Oh, honey,” Ingrid said, squeezing her tight, “I am so proud of you! You saw me in the audience, right?”

“Of course I did,” Emma replied, grinning as she pulled away from her embrace.

“Anna wanted to come, too, but with everyone heading out to the ski lodge this week, she was nervous about leaving Kristoff alone with the boys. Hosting Thanksgiving this year has her a little frazzled, truth be told.” Ingrid settled to the sofa as she spoke, pulling Emma down with her.

“I understand,” Emma said, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “We’ll all see her in a couple of days anyway.”

“So,” Ingrid said, squeezing her hand, “what was that outburst just now directed at your handsome partner?”

Emma rose from her seat, turning her head to hide her blush. “Oh, nothing. He’s just decided to do the tour, that’s all. He was excited to tell me I guess.”

She bit her lip as she pretended to busy herself tossing makeup and face creams into her cosmetic bag. She heard Ingrid make a suspicious humming sound, but she said nothing more about Killian and instead changed the subject.

“I’m also here to talk with you in a professional capacity.”

Emma turned to her mother with brows arched in surprise. “Professional capacity?”

Ingrid patted the sofa next to her. “You really need to find someone else to manage your career, sweetheart. David and Elsa have.”

Emma shook her head as she sat back down next to the woman who had changed her life. For the better. “No way. You help with more than contracts and auditions. You move to LA for six weeks every winter to stay with Henry while I go on tour. Then you entertain him in Colorado every summer for another six weeks. What would I do without you?”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Ingrid told her softly, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead, “that’s called being a mother and a grandmother. I would do those things even if you got a different agent. Surely you know that?”

Emma softened at her tenderness, sagging against the back of the sofa. “I know. I guess I could start looking for an agent here in LA.”

“Especially if you plan on having a movie career,” Ingrid said with an eager grin.

Emma tilted her head in confusion. “A movie career?”

“That’s the exciting news!” Ingrid squeezed her hands. “A movie producer has been watching you dance this season. He liked what he saw so much, he looked into your time on Broadway. He wants you for the lead in a movie musical he’s producing. They’d like you to fly out to London as soon as you can to talk it over with them. I asked if there would be a screen test with the male lead, but he seemed to find that funny for some reason. They won’t tell me who the actor is, something about confidentiality.”

Suddenly, the room felt like it was spinning, and the blood pounded in Emma’s head. “I know who he is.”

“What, honey?”

Emma surged up from the sofa, her fists clenched tightly. “It’s Killian. The actor in the musical. It’s Killian.”

Ingrid’s face creased with concern at her reaction. “Is that a problem?” she asked as she rose to stand. She reached for Emma’s hands, but Emma turned away.

“I – I have to go.” Emma snatched her bag and keys and left, slamming her trailer door behind her.

**********************************************************

Even though Emma knew where Killian lived, she had never gone to his house until now. It wasn’t what she had been expecting. It was a modest sized two story stucco on a steep street up in the hills. Though there was a gate, the house wasn’t all that far from the road. It was a nice house in a pretty neighborhood, but it wasn’t ostentatious. She would never have guessed that it belonged to a celebrity.

The gate stood open because a team of landscapers were trimming the hedges along the drive. Emma pulled up and saw Killian’s garage open. Then Killian came outside laden down with bags for his trip to London. When he saw her, he instantly dropped them, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Emma?” he asked tentatively as she got out of the car.

She slammed the door shut and marched angrily across the concrete drive. When she reached him, she didn’t hesitate. She lifted her hand and slapped him hard across the cheek. His face whipped to the side with the impact, and he blinked in shock.

“What the bloody hell?”

“How dare you?” Emma seethed. “What do you think gives you the right to meddle in my life that way?”

Killian’s eyes darted over her shoulder, and he put a trembling hand out and put it over her shoulder. Emma tried to shrug him off, but he stubbornly steered her towards the door.

“Let’s take this away from prying eyes, shall we?” he said calmly. He hit the button to close the garage door as he led her inside.

The room he led her into was an immaculately clean kitchen, worthy of a chef, but in her blind anger, Emma barely paused to appreciate it. Instead she slapped her palm down on the marble-topped island, shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

“Away from prying eyes, huh? Don’t want to risk the precious reputation you used me to build.”

Killian lifted both hands in a hesitant gesture. “I’m thinking of your reputation too, Swan. Now, care to explain what I did to earn your ire?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Please, don’t act as if you don’t know! And all this time I believed your lines about not wanting to pressure me for more than I was ready to give. But that’s all they were – lines delivered by a pretty actor.”

Killian physically recoiled from her words. “Where is this coming from? You were fine when I left the lot.”

Emma marched right into his personal space, poking her finger into his chest. “What was your plan, huh? Manipulate my life so that I’m forced to be around you, and then what? You assumed I’d eventually just fall into bed with you?”

Killian’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Emma. I didn’t think of it that way.” He lifted tortured eyes to hers. “I swear to you Emma, all I could think of was spending just six more weeks in your presence. But I see now how it looks from your point of view. I’ll talk to Regina. If it makes you uncomfortable to have me on the tour, I won’t do it.”

It was Emma’s turn to blink. She shook her head, his words not computing. “I’m not talking about the tour. I’m talking about the movie!”

“What movie?”

In that moment, Emma could hear every tiny noise in the kitchen: the hum of the refrigerator, the air conditioner kicking on. And Killian’s confused and dumbfounded expression stood out in high definition. Yes, he was an actor, but in that moment, Emma realized something with startling clarity. She could read him. She knew his every expression, every tell, every nervous tick. Over all these months of dancing together, she knew him in a way she had never known anyone else.

“You didn’t know?” she whispered.

“Know what?” he said it on an exasperated sigh. He didn’t know. She choked out a sound between a laugh and a cry. “Swan?” he asked, voice edged with a hint of concern.

She lunged at him then, grasping his face in her hands and covering his mouth with hers. She backed him up against the cabinet behind him, her arms wrapping around him and her hands clutching at the fabric of the back of his shirt. He kissed her back, and their kisses were the frantic, devouring kind. He spun her around and grabbed the top of her thighs, hoisting her up on the kitchen island. His hands were roaming too, cupping her breasts and sliding up the inside of her thighs, hitching her dress up past her hips. His lips trailed across her jaw and down her neck.

“This marble,” Emma panted, “isn’t very comfortable.”

He hoisted her up again and carried her easily across the room. Emma wrapped her legs around his waist, fusing her lips to his again. She let out a yelp followed by a giggle when he deposited her on a sofa, her legs almost flying up in the air. He dove after her, swallowing her laughter with more kisses.

“What about your flight?” she gasped.

“There will be others,” he muttered against her collarbone, clearly not caring in the least.

“What . . . about . . . Liam?” she asked between kisses.

“Out somewhere with Belle. Who cares?”

“What if,” Emma started to ask, then was momentarily distracted by more deep kisses, “they walk in on this?”

Killian pulled back, looking adorably wrecked with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and hair mussed. He grinned down at her, then scooped her up without warning bridal style. Emma squealed as she braced her arms around his neck.

“That can be remedied,” he told her, then carried her up a nearby staircase.

The time it took for him to carry her upstairs and to his bedroom gave them both time to calm down from the frenzy they had just been consumed with. Killian had intensity in his eyes as he lowered her to his bed. He stroked her face tenderly as he lay down beside her.

“Emma,” he asked her gently, “what are we doing?”

She reached up and ran her hand along his jaw, relishing the feel of his scruff beneath her palm. “Isn’t it obvious?”

He bent and brushed his nose with hers. “I don’t want this to just be sex and then have you tell me afterwards that it’s a one time thing.” He took a deep breath and released it before he spoke again. “I love you, Emma Swan.”

She ran her thumb across his lips, “I know,” she whispered back. She had known it for a while, she realized. But she knew something else too. “And I love you.”

His face filled up with a radiant smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He kissed her again, but this time it was slow and tender; passionate but unhurried. His hands were the same, caressing her body with something close to reverence. She arched into his touch as his hand slid up her inner thigh and his lips made a slow, languid path down to the dip between her breasts.

Emma had never really thought about it before, but she had very little experience with foreplay. It was more intimate than she was comfortable with for a one night stand. As for Neal, well, her sexual encounters with him had always been about his desires and wants, not hers. Now, as Killian slowly undressed her and explored her body like someone seeking a precious treasure, she was almost overwhelmed by the assault on her senses and emotions. He had her writhing as he kissed a path down the length of her body, pausing teasingly just below her belly button.

“Killian,” she whimpered, digging her fingers into his hair.

He didn’t make her beg, but continued his path, and when he caused her to come the first time, it was almost frightening in its intensity. He did have her begging then, yanking on his hair. He practically smirked as he hovered over her, but his expression turned to surprise when Emma pushed and rolled him onto his back without warning. Straddling him, she pinned his arms over his head.

“I’ve been fantasizing about this for over two weeks now,” she told him with a smirk of her own.

He grinned up at her salaciously. “Aye, love, me too.”

******************************************************

Emma lay drowsily against Killian’s chest, absentmindedly running her fingers through his chest hair. His fingers played idly with her hair. She turned and buried her face into his chest, taking a deep breath of his scent. She wasn’t sure when it had become such a comforting aroma. His arms tightened around her and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“What are you thinking?” he whispered.

She craned her neck up to look at him and smiled. “Just that I’m happy.”

He grinned back as he arched a brow at her. “Are you sure about that? Since you slapped me when you first got here, I’m assuming this isn’t how you thought this would go.”

Emma laughed, then groaned as she buried her face in his chest again. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

He placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up towards his again. “Now, what’s this movie you were talking about?”

Emma bit her lower lip as it suddenly occurred to her that maybe they should have discussed all of this before falling into bed. What if he didn’t want her tagging along to London? What if it was too much too soon for him?

“Believe it or not . . . it’s the same movie you’re doing.”

A huge grin split his face, making him look like a big kid. “Really?”

Emma nodded and sat up, bunching the bedsheet at her chest. “The female lead, actually?”

She studied his face nervously, but she shouldn’t have worried. Instead of saying anything, he grabbed her and kissed her.

“This is fantastic, Emma! It’s . . . perfect! I told you everything would work out.”

Emma shook her head. “Slow down, okay? They may change their mind about casting me once they meet me.”

He shook his head vehemently. “No way, Swan, they’ll love you.”

Emma turned her face away, nervously tracing the trim on the edge of the sheet. “What if it’s more than I can handle? What if I just can’t do it?”

Killian shifted close, brushing her hair from her bare shoulder and pressing a kiss there. When he spoke, it was against her skin, “Nonsense, Swan. I have yet to see you fail.”

She turned her face to gaze into his, overwhelmed at the utter faith he had in her. She let the sheet fall from her grasp and hauled him in for a passionate kiss, pulling him down onto the bed on top of her.

“When I change my ticket,” he told her in between kisses, “I’m thinking I’ll get three.”

Emma paused. “Three?”

“You,” Killian explained, kissing her nose, “me,” he added, kissing her cheek, “and Henry.”

Emma laughed against his lips as they drifted over hers. “You’re forgetting one thing, Brit. There’s this little American holiday on Thursday called Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, right,” he said with a frown, “the turkey day thing where you watch that atrocity called American football.”

“Hey,” Emma said with mock defensiveness, “I have you know I’m a huge Patriots fan.”

Killian’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You are?”

Emma laughed, “No, I’m kidding.” She fiddled with his hair and studied him as nervous butterflies skittered around in her stomach. “You could change your flight to Colorado instead. Come with us for our Swan family Thanksgiving at Anna and Kristoff’s place. I mean, I know it’s asking a lot. You’d have to change your meetings and all –“

“I accept.”

Emma blinked. “You’re sure?”

He smiled teasingly. “I’m a Brit, remember? It’s not as if I’ve got plans that day. And as for meeting with the producers, well, I’ll just explain that I want to wait for my leading lady to join me.”

Her own smile threatened to split her face now as she pulled him in for another kiss. Afterwards, she pressed her forehead to his. “This seems to be getting into serious territory kind of fast, though, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he admitted, rolling to his side to face her. He reached out to trace the apple of her cheek with his fingertips. “But it feels right, too, don’t you think?”

Emma scooted closer to fit herself into that spot beneath his chin, pressed against his chest, that spot that felt made just for her. “It does feel right. Like all my broken pieces fit perfectly into yours.”

**************************************************

Elsa pressed her face against Graham’s chest as a blush stained her cheeks. Emma’s own face burned. The show had only aired on the east coast a couple of hours ago, and already the salsa dance-off between the two couples was being dubbed “The Chest-Off.” It already had thousands of views on YouTube, and everyone was in a heated discussion on which was hotter: chest hair or a smooth chest? While they were dancing, Emma and Elsa couldn’t see the meter recording the live votes, but when they watched the footage later, they laughed hysterically as the little bar at the bottom of the screen spiked wildly in Graham’s direction as soon as he took his shirt off. But then Killian had taken off his, and the meter surged in the opposite direction. In the end, the vote had been clear: Killian’s chest hair had won the salsa. There was no way of knowing, of course, if losing those extra points had cost Graham the semi-finals or not, but it had certainly helped Emma and Killian. The other couple voted off had been August and Jasmine. Emma tried to feel bad for her temporary partner, and when she couldn’t, she felt slightly guilty.

“It’s down to two athletes, Killian, and Belle,” Elsa commented as she grabbed a fortune cookie and cracked it open.

“Yeah, it’s shaping up to be a great end to the season,” Emma said.

“Aw, look,” Elsa gushed, showing Graham the tiny slip of paper from her cookie, “it says The end is sometimes really the beginning. Isn’t that perfect for today?”

Graham’s face softened. “It’s perfect for us. For a while, it felt like everything that mattered to me was ending, but it all led me right here. To you.”

Graham then cupped Elsa’s face and gave her a soft kiss.

“Ugh,” Henry complained, pretending to gag on an eggroll, “kid in the room, remember?”

Graham and Elsa both chuckled. “Sorry,” Graham apologized, but he didn’t let go of Emma’s sister, simply tucking her head beneath his chin and tugging her a bit closer. Elsa softened against him with a contented smile on her face.

As she watched them, Emma tried to keep her mind from dwelling on a certain blue-eyed Brit with soft lips and strong hands. She stared into her plate of Chinese food, willing her blood to cool and her mind to cease replaying that kiss. It’s not like it would lead to the same place Elsa found herself in with Graham. Killian wasn’t a retired Marine with multiple options before him. He was an actor. How many times had she reminded herself of that fact? The thing was, since there kiss it was getting harder and harder to remember.

*********************************************************

Emma hadn’t even made her way out of bed yet the next morning when her phone dinged that she had a text message. It was from Killian.

Can we meet, Swan? Away from the cameras?

Emma worried her lower lip as she contemplated his request. She had a feeling she knew what he wanted to talk about, and while it was a conversation she really didn’t want to have, she also didn’t want to risk the situation blowing up in their faces while the cameras rolled.

Sure. Same cafe as last time? Just not outside this time.

She hit send, and Killian quickly sent back a reply.

Ha ha, definitely no. I’ll be in a ball cap again just to be safe.

Emma texted back with a time for him to meet her then slipped out of bed. She skipped a shower, figuring it was pointless anyway since she’d just get sweaty at rehearsals. She put her messy hair in a ponytail, then shoved it into an Angels baseball cap that August had given her. She brushed a kiss across the cheek of a bleary-eyed Henry as he shuffled from his room.

“I thought you didn’t have to practice as early now that Neverland’s on hiatus,” her son grumbled.

“I know, and starting tomorrow morning I’ll make you breakfast every day till New Year’s, okay kid?”

He shrugged his acceptance as he grabbed a box of cereal from the pantry, and Emma dashed out the door. She knew he was responsible enough to catch the bus on time, and Elsa was still home. Still, mommy guilt sometimes felt like her constant companion. Even with all the help from her siblings and Mary Margaret, being a single mom wasn’t easy. She pushed such thoughts from her mind as she made her way through LA traffic. She was early enough that rush hour hadn’t begun yet, but the streets were still a bit congested. In the end, she was ten minutes late meeting Killian.

Emma kept her sunglasses on just in case as she stepped into the cafe. She wouldn’t have recognized Killian if not for the bright blue eyes shining from under the brim of his Dodgers baseball cap. He was wearing a plain gray hoodie that seemed to be his standard uniform when trying to go unrecognized.

His phone was pressed to his ear, but when Emma reached the table, he smiled up at her. “Um, sorry Robin, but I’ve got to go. Emma’s here,” he paused, giving Emma an apologetic look for being on his phone. “Aye, mate, I look forward to it. . . I will . . . bye.”

As Emma sat down, she noted the way his smile reached his eyes, crinkling the skin around them. “Must be good news.”

“It is,” Killian replied, excitement coloring his voice. They were interrupted by a waitress taking their order, but as soon as she left, Killian continued eagerly. “You know the movie musical The Greatest Showman, right?”

Emma nodded with a shrug, “Who doesn’t?”

“Well, the same producers are developing a new movie musical about the rise of the punk music scene in London in the 70s. They want me for the lead.”

Emma smiled broadly. “That’s great!”

He ducked his head with that bashful smile of his that she never would have expected him capable of three months ago. “I have you to thank,” he told her.

Emma shook her head. “No, Killian. All I did was teach you some dance steps. You’re the one who proved to the world that you’re a triple threat. So who’s the choreographer?”

The waitress brought their orders out, and Emma stirred the whipped cream and cinnamon into her hot chocolate as she watched Killian take a bite of his breakfast sandwich before answering. When he did, his eyes were bright with excitement.

“Tabatha and Napoleon D’Umo.”

Emma almost knocked her hot chocolate over as her hands flew to her mouth. “Nappy Tabs? Seriously?! I’m so jealous. I never got to work with them on So You Think You Can Dance.”

Killian’s grin was broad as he took in her reaction. “Their lyrical hip hop is the style they’re going for in the film.”

“Oh, I’m so jealous,” Emma sighed as she broke apart her blueberry muffin and popped a bite in her mouth. “Put in a word for me? I sing you know.”

“That’s right,” Killian nodded, “you did Broadway.”

“Just in the corp. It was a steadier life for Henry than touring the ballroom circuit. Ingrid and Anna went with me to help with Henry. I missed Elsa and David, especially David, but I still got to dance and Ingrid kept working with me to get me back in competition shape.” Emma shook her head as she stared into her mug of cocoa. “Why am I babbling on about me? This is great news for you!”

“Aye. The casting director and producers want to meet me in London after the show wraps.”

Emma felt her stomach drop. “London?”

Killian eyed her with that intense look of his. “They want actual London landmarks from that time in the film. Sort of like how LA was a character in La La Land.”

Emma bit her lip, her eyes darting away from Killian’s face. “London . . . “

Killian cleared his throat. “But that’s not why I asked you to meet me. Emma –“

“Is this about Liam leaving?” Emma cut him off, locking her eyes on his again.

Killian arched one brow and gave her a half smile. “No, it’s not that either. I knew he’d have to go back home sooner or later. He’s got a job, you know. Pretty brunette bookworms can’t distract him from that reality.”

Emma laughed nervously. “Right . . .”

Killian leaned across the table. “And you’re changing the subject.”

Emma swallowed hard and fiddled with the napkin in her hand. “What subject?”

“The kiss, Emma.”

Emma scoffed even as heat crept up her neck. “Why? It was just a kiss.”

“Not for me,” he said, voice laced with conviction. He reached across the table and stilled the nervous motion of her hands by covering them with his. “Emma, when I was just starting in the industry, I was so focused on my career that I didn’t take the time to pursue any relationships. Then I got the role on Neverland, and I got carried away with partying and all the attention from women. Until one day I realized those women were attracted to my fame, not me. I never thought I’d actually find someone I could truly love . . . until I met you.”

Emma pulled her hands away abruptly and stared at her lap. She wasn’t sure what she could say to any of that.

Killian added in almost a whisper, “That’s what the kiss revealed.”

Emma lifted her head finally, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. “You just told me you’ll be moving to London, Killian.”

“But we –“

“No,” Emma cut him off, standing abruptly. She shook her head. “Please don’t make empty promises, Killian. You won’t keep them, believe me.”

Killian just looked at her silently for a moment. Then he gave one nod of his head; a nod of acceptance. “Okay, Emma. I won’t push it. Whatever we become, if anything, it’s up to you just as much as it is me.” He reached out and took her hand. “Just don’t leave. We’re still partners. And . . . friends? I hope?”

Emma gave him a tentative smile as she sat back down at the table. She squeezed his hand before releasing it. “Yes, definitely friends.”

She picked up her fork, slightly dazed when Killian smoothly changed the subject and started to tell her how he decided to grow his hair long at seventeen, much to Liam’s horror. She laughed between bites of her omelet, the tension from moments ago melting away. His patience with her walls meant more to her than she cared to admit. She honestly didn’t know that there were men out there who would actually take “no” for an answer.

*******************************************************

“What’s with the box?” Killian asked when he entered the studio. Emma had asked him to wait ten minutes at the café so they wouldn’t show up on set at the same time. The cameras were already rolling.

Emma smiled brightly at him and accepted his casual hug despite the electricity she felt every time he touched her. They had to dance together this week, after all, and this was being recorded.

“I don’t know what’s in the box,” she told him honestly. “We can’t open it until we look at the input from fans on Twitter. It’s people’s choice week. The viewers get to pick what we dance.”

Emma sat cross legged on the floor and powered up her laptop. Killian plopped down next to her, scooting close so he could see the screen. His leg was pressed against her knee, and she felt like a ridiculous teenager as her pounding heart reacted to it. His head was inclined towards her, too, and she kept her eyes glued to the device in her hands lest she turn her head and tumble headlong into those blue eyes of his.

“Okay,” Emma said as she scrolled through the tweets the producers had sent her, “this one says, With Neverland on hiatus, I’m going through withdrawal. I want to see Captain Hook on the dance floor! And this fan wants you to dance to the theme from Neverland.”

Killian leaned closer as he read the next tweet. “I want to see him dance with the hook!” He turned to face her, and Emma was forced to meet his gaze. “Doesn’t this all go against the very reason I did the show? To help people see me as more than Hook?”

Emma smiled softly at him. “You have proven that. But your fans love your show and the character you created.” She bit her lip to stop from adding that the show was ending. That wasn’t public knowledge yet, though rumors were all over the internet. Emma had a feeling those rumors were fueling the tweets a little.

Killian rubbed his jaw and sighed. “Okay. So what’s the dance style then?”

Emma leaned against the wall, crossing her arms and thinking. In the past, the audience voted on the song, style, and theme. The result had sometimes been disastrous when the three didn’t complement one another. So this year they were leaving the dance style up to the pros.

“Well, I think I’ll have to listen to the Neverland score again before I make that decision.” She went to her dance bag and pulled out her phone and her earbuds. She pulled up the music and closed her eyes as the notes flowed through her. Her whole life, even before she was formally trained, she imagined dances in her head whenever she heard music. The light and playful melody of the Neverland score was no different. She smiled as she opened her eyes. “A quick step, definitely.”

Killian was looking at her with such intensity, it almost put her on edge. A soft smile filled his face. “Dance and music are in your blood, aren’t they, Swan?”

Emma turned quickly as she yanked her ear buds out and stuffed them back in her bag. It was disconcerting the way he read her sometimes. She cleared her throat as she pulled her iPhone speakers out and set them up.

“Well, let’s get started.”

“As you wish.”

*********************************************************

The box, naturally, had contained Killian’s hook and brace that he wore on Neverland. Three hooks, actually. Killian explained it to her; one was rubber and used for stunts so no one got hurt accidentally. The second was a light aluminum hook with a blunted point that he wore for the majority of scenes, and the last one was made of actual steel and had a real, sharp tip. It was used for close ups or when the script called for him to hit or cut something with the hook. The last one, the sharp one, clearly couldn’t be used for their dance. The rubber one seemed like the most logical choice, but when they started working on the routine, it kept bending as they moved. Even to a TV audience, it would be obvious that it was fake.

Killian frowned. “Stunts are always edited so you don’t notice that it’s rubber. I guess I didn’t think of that.” He rubbed at the straps underneath his t-shirt. “I’m used to wearing that heavy leather duster and sweating under these straps, but dancing in this is giving me blisters. I hope I still have hair on my chest after this is over.”

“You better,” Emma laughed.

“Why Swan,” Killian grinned, “are you saying you like my chest hair?”

Emma’s face burned even as she swatted him with the back of her hand and rolled her eyes. He’d had to remove his shirt to put the brace on, and the sight of that again hadn’t exactly made the “just friends” thing easy to remember.

Emma let out a long breath as she pushed wisps of hair out of her face. “I guess we’ll have to try the aluminum hook then. The end is blunted, right?”

“Aye,” he told her as he unscrewed the rubber one from the end of his brace, “I won’t hurt you, love.”

He winked at that, and Emma’s traitorous blushing started again. What was her problem? He’d been flirting with her from day one. She should be used to it by now.

Unfortunately, switching hooks didn’t help. If anything, Emma was struggling even more with the choreography. She would have Killian turn a certain direction, but when she went to take his hand, the hook was there instead. She felt like a complete novice as she struggled to figure out turns and holds when Killian, essentially, only had one hand. The longer she struggled, the more frustrated she became.

“Fuck this!” she growled, yanking at her ponytail in frustration as she paced to the far corner of the room. Well, the editing room would have fun bleeping out all her swearing this week.

“Hey,” Killian said gently as he came up behind her. He rested his hand, and his hook, on her shoulders. He was obviously used to the prop that he spent the majority of his days wearing. But Emma wasn’t used to it. “We’ll figure this out, Emma. The way we always do . . . together.”

Emma, who had also been trying so hard all day to hold back from his casual affections, gave up and leaned back against him. He wrapped both arms around her, dropping his face to the crook of her neck. The cool metal of his hook felt odd against her hip.

“Can we call it a day?” she asked wearily.

“Sure,” he mumbled against her hair. Was that a kiss he just brushed to the side of her head?

When they parted ways, Emma wasn’t sure what had her shaken more: her struggles to choreograph this routine, or how natural it had become to be in Killian’s arms.

*******************************************************

The next morning, Emma had only just greeted Killian when her phone buzzed with a message from Regina. Emma’s brow furrowed as she read it.

“Something wrong, Swan?”

Emma shook her head. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just . . . “ she looked up at Killian, then glanced over his shoulder at the camera crew, “they’re sending someone to help us choreograph around the hook?”

Killian’s confused expression mirrored her own. “Who could that be?”

“I don’t know, I mean –“ Emma was interrupted by a knock at the studio door. She glanced at the camera crew again, then at Killian, who shrugged. “Come in?”

The door was flung open and a petite, energetic blonde burst into the room. Rose; Killian’s co-star. He laughed with delight and rushed to embrace her.

“Emma!” Rose squealed, pulling her into an eager hug. When she let her go, Rose winked at Killian. “So, I hear you’re having trouble working around this guy’s hook.”

Emma swallowed down the sudden irritation that had welled up within her. The cameras were rolling, so she plastered on a smile. “Yeah, I’m not used to having to choreograph with just his right hand.”

“Why don’t you show me?” Rose asked eagerly, motioning with her hands for Emma and Killian to partner up.

Emma nodded and stepped into Killian’s hold. She counted out the beats as they went into the opening sequence of the syncopated choreography. The quickstep’s quick-quick-slow rhythm was difficult enough, but when they went into the quarter turn, Emma found herself grabbing for Killian’s hand only to find that it wasn’t there.

“See?” Emma said, pressing both hands to Killian’s chest to stop them both. “If I turn one way, I’m grabbing for the hook, but if I turn the other way, he can’t grab hold of my waist.”

Rose shrugged. “Why can’t you grab his hook?”

Emma shook her head. “What?”

“On Neverland, I hold his hook all the time, like it’s a hand.”

“The aluminum one?” Emma asked.

“Of course,” Rose explained, “the rubber one would bend if I grabbed it. When Hook and Tink danced at that ball in season two, Killian and I did that waltz with the aluminum hook.”

Killian arched a brow at Emma. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, Swan.”

Rose brushed past Emma and grabbed Killian’s arms. Emma hated the way it made her bristle. Rose put Killian’s right hand at her waist, then grabbed his hook and lifted his arm. Her frame was terrible, but she and Killian waltzed around the room in perfect rhythm just like Emma remembered in the episode Rose had referred to. Then Killian lifted Rose’s arm over her head, and the tiny blonde did a tight turn perfectly, still holding on to his hook. Then he spun her out and back in, his hook now at her waist.

“See how he holds it?” Rose showed her. “Whenever the script calls for him to hug me or embrace me, he keeps it sideways like this.”

Emma nodded, and she suddenly felt foolish. “So what you’re saying is I should just choreograph the way I normally do?”

“Well, not necessarily . . . “

Rose stayed with them the rest of the day, and slowly, as time wore on, Emma found she actually enjoyed having her there. Rose and Killian were obviously close, but now that she really paid attention, she could see that it was a very casual and platonic relationship. They teased each other almost like siblings would, and Rose gushed over Emma’s partnership with Killian, calling them “adorable” and “the cutest thing ever.” Rose helped Emma tremendously with the choreography, showing her which side to stand on if she needed to clasp Killian’s opposite hand, and how to execute the dance’s one spinning lift safely. At the end of the day, she and Rose grabbed the other two hooks from the box, and the three of them posed for a selfie with them.

As Emma gathered up her things and stood with her dance bag slung over her shoulder, Rose was next to her with an impish grin on her face. “Can I talk to you for a second now that Killian’s gone?” Rose asked.

Emma glanced over to the corner where the camera crew was packing up their gear. She let out a relieved sigh. “Sure.”

“I don’t mean to overstep my bounds, but I’ve been watching the show . . . ” she hesitated, her brow furrowing.

Emma lifted her hand. “Not you too, Rose! I know everyone talks about our chemistry, but he has chemistry with you, too. Frankly, he seems to have chemistry with everyone.”

Rose shook her head. “Not like with you. And it’s not just when you perform. He’s been . . . different. Happier.” She took Emma’s hands in hers. “He deserves more than shallow women grasping for fame.”

Emma broke eye contact with her, shaking her head. “Rose, I think you’ve misunderstood –“

“No,” she interrupted, “I don’t think I have. You were jealous of that other dancer, Jasmine. You’ve been jealous of me.”

Emma’s head snapped up, her eyes blinking. “That’s ridiculous!”

Rose’s face gentled as she let go of Emma’s hands. “Is it? You care for him, I can see that you do.”

Emma gave her a wry smile. “Is this where you warn me not to break his heart like his fangirls do online?”

Rose shook her head. “I think you’re more worried about your heart. That’s what I wanted to tell you. He’s a good guy, so don’t be afraid to give what you two have a chance.” She gave her another smile, patted her shoulder, and left the room.

Emma groaned and let her dance bag drag the floor as she left the room wearily. Couldn’t the universe just let her protect her heart in peace?

********************************************************

The semi-final episode actually involved two dances, just like the finals would. For this one, they had the people’s choice dance and then a re-do of their lowest scoring dance. They were slated to dance next-to-last for both. They did a re-do of their week three salsa first, getting two tens and a nine from Blue. Killian was definitely better at shaking his hips than he had been when the competition started.

Then they took the floor for their quickstep. Killian was dressed like Captain Hook, only this costume was made of light, stretchy imitation leather instead of the heavy garments he wore on his TV show. Killian also joked that his pirate duster on Neverland wasn’t bedazzled like this one.

The studio audience cheered when Rose showed up in the rehearsal footage. Emma actually smiled as it played; the three of them really had a great time together that day. She glanced over to the studio audience where Rose was sitting in the front. She winked at Emma and gave her a thumbs up. As the package wound to a close, Emma turned to Killian, stepping into his embrace. Her hair was done up in a loose bun and she wore the green tunic dress as Tinkerbell.

The bright, light, and airy piano notes of the Neverland theme began to play, and Emma and Killian began their routine. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was different tonight. She was painfully aware of Rose in the audience; painfully aware of the costumes they both wore. She usually could slip into a role so easily, but tonight she felt like an imposter. The Captain Fairy fandom was in the back of her mind the whole time. How were they receiving this dance? Emma was frustrated with herself when the final notes faded out, realizing she had been stuck in her head the entire time.

Killian put his arm around her and pulled her close as they turned to the judges. The results were a big surprise; for once, Tiana was their toughest critic.

“I don’t know what it was, but I felt a disconnect,” she told them.

In the end, she gave them a nine while Teach and even Blue gave them a ten (for their flawless quickstep technique). Emma’s shoulders slumped, even though Killian told her he was thrilled with the performance. She hated it because she knew who was at fault for the disconnect Tiana had mentioned. Emma could blame no one but herself. With so few dancers left, time was brief, so she didn’t have the luxury of slipping backstage to nurse her wounds. But Killian caught her hand and squeezed it. When she looked up at him, his gaze was soft.

“You can do this, Emma.”

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Anything,” he said huskily, brushing at a stray curl that framed her face, “for I have yet to see you fail.”

She pressed her lips together, trying desperately not to let him see how deeply those words touched her. She was rescued from having to respond when an assistant director barked at them to take their places downstairs before the commercial break ended.

Emma and Killian took their place with the rest of the celebs and their dancers: figure skater Aurora Briar, football player Lance Knight, and finally, Belle. Killian was still in his pirate garb and hook, but he still wrapped his arms tightly around her. Emma leaned back into him, her eyes closed tight. There was still no guarantee they had made it into the finals, and if that lackluster performance had been their last, Emma would kick herself.

“The first couple dancing in the finals is . . .” Marco paused dramatically, “Belle French and her partner Jefferson!”

Belle let out a loud squeal and almost knocked Jefferson over with the force of her hug. Emma smiled up at Killian; they both adored Belle and were happy for her. Honestly, Emma felt that whoever in this group made it into the finals, they would deserve it.

“The next group to make the finals . . . “ this time it was Ashley dragging out the suspense, “Aurora and Sean!”

Sean Herman, her brother David’s best friend since the eighth grade, shouted and lifted his partner off her feet, spinning her around. Sean had been on the show since the fourth season and had never made the finals. David would be thrilled for him.

The lights dimmed in the entire studio, and two spotlights shone down on Emma and Killian on stage left, and Lance and Gwen on stage right. Emma bit her lip and shifted so she could wrap her arms around Killian’s waist. They had been dancing strong all season, but Lance was an NFL football player, and football players had always done extremely well on Dancing on the Stars. Many of them had won the mirror ball.

“The final couple...“ Marco intoned, “performing in the finals...is...“

Emma grasped Killian’s forearm in a vise-like grip. Couldn’t Marco just get to the damn point?

“ ...Killian Jones and Emma Swan!”

Emma felt her knees buckle beneath her, but Killian kept her on her feet as he squeezed her tight. She didn’t know whether to shout for joy or cry. Finally, the mirror ball might actually be hers.

Emma was so excited, she couldn’t help but go on social media before bed that night to see what Killian’s fans were saying about him making the finals. And, she had to confess, she probably was also craving some positive feedback after their lackluster quickstep. Emma was shocked when the buzz online wasn’t about the Neverland dance, or Killian’s hip-shaking in the salsa, or even their place in the finals. No, Killian’s fans were demanding one thing and one thing only.

When are they going to kiss? @piratelover

Kiss already, Captain Swan! @neverlander

I know the disconnect Tiana was talking about. They just need to kiss! @trueloveandpixiedust

Dear Captain Swan, can we please have a kiss in the final? @fairytaledaydreamer

When Emma showed her sister, Elsa just laughed.

Killian and Henry got along that morning just as well as they had over pizza and video games all those weeks ago. Killian even helped him with an especially tricky math problem from his homework assignment, one that had baffled Emma the night before. When it was time for the bus to come, Henry fist-bumped Killian before dashing for the door, only remembering at the last moment that he forgot to kiss his mother goodbye.

“Why am I even here?” Emma had joked.

“For the pancakes, of course,” Killian had answered her with a wink.

“And here I thought it was the turkey bacon,” she had quipped back.

Their easy banter continued on the car ride to the studio, and Emma felt lighter than she had since that ridiculous kiss. Maybe this “just friends” thing could work after all.

Now they stood in front of the door to their rehearsal studio, Emma’s hand gripping the doorknob. “You ready to see who our mentor is?” she asked Killian.

His gaze lifted to the ceiling as he crossed himself. “Please let it be Tiana, please, please . . .”

Emma laughed, mostly because she shared the sentiment. Then she took a deep breath and pushed the door open. There, standing in the center of the room, with a huge grin on her face, arms already stretched out for a hug, was Tiana. Emma and Killian didn’t have to fake their enthusiasm for the cameras as they accepted her embrace.

“Okay, you two,” Tiana told them, clasping her manicured hands together under her chin, “I have been a huge fan since that first week. I knew you would make it here. Are you ready to get to work?”

Tiana’s open expression and genuine smile made it easy to share in her enthusiasm. Emma couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for Belle and Aurora right now.

“You,” Tiana said, pointing at Killian, “have an advantage over the competition because of your acting ability. You embody the choreography and the story that it’s telling every single time. So the dance I’ve created for the two of you has that story-telling element.”

“What advice do you have, though?” Killian asked, his brow furrowed. “I mean, I definitely want to play up my strengths, but to win, I need to work on my weaknesses too.”

“I agree,” Tiana said, nodding her head with such vigor that a dark curl fell across her forehead, “Belle is probably the most improved of the competition, while you’ve been more consistent. As for Aurora, being a figure skater, she’s always had you beat when it comes to technique. You need to show us that your extensions are better.” She paused and nudged Killian’s hip. “And we’ve got to show that this Brit can shake his booty.”

Emma laughed as Tiana shimmied around him. Killian turned red to the tips of his ears. Tiana high-fived Emma, then turned to the camera.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since week one,” she said, then winked. She turned back to Emma and Killian. “Okay, so let’s get to work. You two have great chemistry, but you’re still holding back. So . . . I’ve choreographed a very steamy rumba.”

Emma gulped as her own face turned red. A rumba? A very steamy rumba?’ Oh shit . . .

*******************************************************

Tiana definitely wasn’t holding anything back with her choreography. The rumba was always sensual, but there was hardly a moment in the dance that Emma and Killian weren’t pressed up against one another. There was a lift where Emma was straddling Killian while facing him and the dismount called for Emma to basically fall across his shoulder. Tiana was constantly asking both of them to bury their fingers in each other’s hair. But the last straw for Emma was the end. The two of them were literally rolling on the ground with one another with Emma at one point straddling Killian. The tangle of their arms and legs was enough to set every nerve ending on fire, but when she had to look down into Killian’s always expressive face as he lay flat on his back beneath her, it all became too much.

“I’m not sure this is appropriate,” she muttered as she scrambled to her feet, “I mean, this is an eight o’clock show. On ABC, not HBO.”

Tiana’s eyes opened wide, and the look she gave Emma as she crossed her arms had Emma squirming. “Excuse me? I thought you were a pro.”

Emma swallowed hard. As nice as Tiana was, Emma couldn’t forget that she was both a judge and a co-producer of the show. Not to mention the clout she had in the dance industry as a choreographer.

“Of course,” she said, pressing her lips together as a blush crept up her face.

Tiana’s expression softened, “Look, Emma, I know what I’m doing. This will be tasteful, I promise.”

Killian, who was still sitting on the floor, was looking nervously between the two women. He cleared his throat awkwardly as he scrambled to his feet. “I don’t want Emma to feel uncomfortable.”

Tiana propped her fist beneath her chin as she narrowed her eyes at the pair of them. “I’ve seen Emma dance plenty of sensual routines. And you, Jones? I’ve seen you do plenty of steamy scenes as an actor. Is there anything I need to know between the two of you? Anything that’s causing . . . tension?”

Emma was intensely aware of the camera crew as she exchanged a glance with Killian. They both spoke at once.

“No, nothing at all.”

“Seriously? No way.”

For half a second, a tiny smile hitched up one corner of Tiana’s lips, but then she schooled her features. “Okay. However, something’s still missing. Let’s keep working.”

Emma pushed aside her discomfort as she took Killian’s hand. They continued working. Tiana was a relentless coach, repeating the word “again” after every run through. She stopped occasionally to correct something with Killian’s technique, but for the most part, she kept shaking her head and saying “again.” Soon, Emma and Killian were soaked with sweat. You would think it would make the intimate lifts and the rolling on the floor disgusting. Instead, the sweatier they both got, the more uncomfortable Emma became. She felt emotionally raw; exposed.

“Stop,” Tiana commanded. Emma and Killian both doubled over, breathless. Tiana just shook her head as she looked at them. “I don’t know what it is, but I just don’t believe this routine. You’re not connecting with one another. Are you even listening to the lyrics?”

The song was “Secret Love” by Little Mix, and it said things like, “Why can’t I kiss you on the dance floor?” and “every second, every thought, I’m in so deep, but I’ll never show it on my face.” Of course she was listening to the lyrics; that was part of the problem! Without a word, Emma turned and walked out of the studio, slamming the door behind her. She ignored Tiana’s indignant protests. She was being unprofessional, but right now she couldn’t care less. She fled down the hallway and burst into an empty studio. She took deep breaths as spots danced before her eyes. She lifted trembling hands to run them through her sweat-drenched hair. When Killian’s hands rested gently on her shoulders, she jumped at his touch.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I was just worried about you.”

Emma pressed a hand to her chest as she turned to face him. “I just don’t know what she wants from you. We’re killing ourselves in there, and it’s still not enough.”

Killian rubbed her upper arms gently before pulling her close. “I apologize for how awful I smell,” he murmured against her hair.

She managed a small laugh. “Ugh, I reek too,” she mumbled against his chest.

They stayed that way in silence for a long moment, and when Killian finally spoke again, his voice sounded tentative. “You never let me hold you like this on the dance floor. Have you ever considered . . . that the one not connecting when we dance . . . is you?”

His words were like a punch to the gut. Emma reeled back, shoving him lightly with her palms “What do you mean? I’m the pro! And . . . and . . . I’ve never,” she let out a shaky breath before confessing, “I’ve never connected with anyone when I dance the way I do with you.”

Killian’s eyes were tender as he traced her jaw with his fingertips. “And maybe that’s the problem. What are you holding back? What are you afraid to feel, Emma?”

A tumult of emotions assaulted her as she shoved his hand away. The easiest one to identify was anger. “Don’t pretend you understand me, Jones.”

As she stalked out, Killian whispered a reply. “Perhaps I’d like to.”

**********************************************************

Emma didn’t sleep well at all the night after their first disastrous rehearsal with Tiana, and Henry had actually been the one to wake her up with a bowl of cereal and some fruit (and she tried to not feel guilty – and failed – when he dashed out the door with a couple of pop tarts in his hand). What had she done to deserve such a great kid?

Now she was dashing in late for rehearsals, and her sleepless night had given her no solutions whatsoever. She was still overwhelmed by the emotions Tiana’s choreography evoked, and she had no idea what to do about it. The only thing she did know, and hated to admit, was that Killian was right. The problem was with her.

Emma was so lost in thought as she ran through the door, that she didn’t see Belle at all. The brunette also had her head down, texting on her phone, so the pair of them went stumbling backwards, and Belle went crashing on her rear, her phone flying out of her hand.

“Oh God,” Emma gasped, reaching out a hand to help her up, “I’m so sorry! Are you hurt?”

“Just my pride,” Belle laughed, “that’s what I get for texting while walking.”

As Belle dusted off her designer skirt, Emma picked up her cell phone. She didn’t mean to invade Belle’s privacy, but she noticed Robert Gold’s name.

“Too bad I’m not in my grubby rehearsal clothes,” Belle continued, frowning at a smudge of dirt on the hem of her skirt. “I was just here to pick up Teach’s music. He wants us to rehearse on the beach, can you believe it? That man is so bizarre. He still uses CDs, too . . . “ she trailed off when she noticed Emma’s expression. Her eyes toggled from Emma’s face to the cell phone clutched in her hand.

“Is Gold bothering you again?” Emma asked her.

Belle blushed as she shoved the phone into her cross-body purse. “I just think we should try to see the best in people, you know? I think there’s a good man in Mr. Gold, deep down.”

Emma frowned at the woman as she crossed her arms. “You’re not developing feelings for him, are you?”

Belle shook her head adamantly. “Oh no, of course not!” a softer expression filled her face as she sighed and said, “I mean, Liam had to go home, but we’re still in touch. We want to keep pursuing what we started.”

Emma’s brow furrowed in concern. “So what’s with Gold and the texting?”

Belle shuffled nervously back and forth, “Like I said, I see a good man in him. And I just thought that if I were kind to him, maybe he wouldn’t have to make threats or . . . I don’t know . . . “

“Let me see the messages,” Emma said, putting out her palm in the way she would with Henry.

Belle’s eyes sparked for a moment in protest, but then she sighed and turned over the phone. “I guess you have a right to know. Since he was banned from the lot.”

Emma shook her head and gave Belle a soft smile. “It isn’t that, really. It’s just . . . I know how these creeps work. You give them a little attention, and they think they own you.”

Belle quirked a brow. “How do you know that?”

Emma ignored her question and began scrolling through the messages.

I saw you talking on the phone as you left rehearsal the other day. Was it that hot head who attacked me? What was his name again?

His name is Liam, and yes we’re still seeing each other.

Long distance? Is it serious?

I don’t know. He makes me smile.

I could make you smile. And I’m right here.

I told you, I only see you as a friend.

But I need you Belle.

Belle?

Don’t ignore me!

Emma stopped reading, her frown deepening. “This sounds creepy, Belle. He’s been watching you!”

“Not necessarily,” Belle argued, “I mean, he may have just been driving by. He lives here, after all, and his offices are in downtown LA.”

Emma stepped closer and laid a hand on Belle’s shoulder. “The restraining order says he’s not supposed to be within two blocks of here, but that’s not the point. These texts sound a lot like some I used to get when . . . well, a long time ago from a guy. Please, Belle, cut this man off. Don’t try to be nice.”

Belle closed out the texts on her phone and gave Emma a tight nod. “Okay. I’ll think about what you said.”

Emma gave her arm a squeeze before she turned to exit the building. Emma hugged her arms to her chest, feeling as if a chill had blown past. The texts brought up memories that she really didn’t need right now. She felt defeated already as she made her way up the stairs.

Emma was afraid that she would get a mouthful from Tiana when she came in late, but the judge was laughing with Killian, tossing her thick dark curls over one shoulder. The pair of them turned, eyes lit up with pleasure to see her.

“Emma!” Tiana greeted, giving her a small hug. When she pulled back, her eyes were narrowed with concern as she scrutinized her face. “I was really worried I had pushed too hard yesterday. Is everything okay?”

“Aye Swan,” Killian added as he came close, putting an arm around her shoulder, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Emma couldn’t hold back the shudder that passed through her even as she shook her head. “I’m fine, really, just didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.”

Emma could tell Killian wasn’t buying it by the slight arch of his brow, but then his trademark smile filled his face. “Well, love, I’ve been talking to Tiana, and I think our problem is that we don’t know the characters we’re playing.”

“Characters?” Emma asked as she stepped away from the pair to deposit her dance bag against the wall.

“Yes,” Tiana said, “Killian was explaining how both of you usually create a character to slip into. He thinks that’s why the Neverland dance didn’t have the right connection because you felt it was Rose’s character, not yours.”

“And I remembered that Tiana said she had created a story with our rumba,” Killian continued.

Tiana laughed, “And I didn’t even realize that I never told you what the story was.”

“Okay,” Emma said, liking where this was going. She caught Killian’s eye, and he gave her a nod and a wink. He was trying to make this easier for her, and though she wanted to be irritated over it, she was honestly relieved. “So what’s the story?”

Tiana rubbed her hands together, eager. “You’re a dancer, Emma, and Killian is a pop star. Or, the other way around, it doesn’t really matter. The point is, you have to keep your relationship professional, yet there’s all this sexual tension, and you just wish you could admit what’s there.”

Emma rubbed at her throat, catching Killian’s eye again, this time he tilted his head ever so slightly. The man was as just too damn expressive. It was scary how well they could communicate with looks, and this silent communication said that the storyline was a little too close to the truth for comfort. But . . . Tiana didn’t have to know that.

“I like it,” was all Emma said.

“Great!” Tiana cheered. “Let’s get started!”

Killian stood behind Emma, one hand at her waist for the beginning of the dance. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I can tell something’s bothering you.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She was so tired of always keeping it together. “You’re right,” she admitted, “but can we just focus on the dance for now?”

She tilted her face up to meet his just as the first notes of music began to play. He squeezed her waist and gave her a soft smile.

“You told me dance is your therapy, remember?”

Then he spun her out, and she let the music sweep her away.

*******************************************************

Monday came faster than Emma could have imagined. Instead of a routine by the pros, the show opened with a group routine of the top three couples to Parson James’ “Stole the Show.” Actually, it was more like a series of three short solos. As each couple danced a brief contemporary routine, the jumbotron behind them flashed a montage of clips from throughout the season. Emma was surprised how emotional it made her, especially in light of the lyrics: “Our debut was a masterpiece, but in the end for you and me, oh the show, it can’t go on.” It was beginning to sink in how soon she would have to tell Killian goodbye. London. It was so far away. She thought she would be prepared for this moment, but . . . London?

As soon as the lights came up and the studio audience began to cheer, the three pro dancers and their celebrities dashed backstage to get into their costumes. Ashley and Marco’s introduction followed by the commercial break would buy them a little time, but not much. Especially for Jefferson and Belle who would dance first. Emma broke away from Killian as she made a beeline for the women’s dressing room, but he stopped her with a gentle hand to her shoulder.

“Are you okay, Swan?” he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

“Sure,” she said, shrugging off his touch, “it’s just . . . the show must go on. Right?”

“Right . . . “

She refused to meet his gaze as she hurried along with the other female performers. The costume department was a flurry of activity as usual, and in the hustle and bustle, Emma pushed Killian’s forlorn expression from her face. She winced as she reached for her “costume”: a light blue men’s button-down shirt which only fell to the top of her thigh. Underneath she would wear a pair of black lycra dance shorts that were just long enough to let the eight o’clock viewers know she was, in fact, clothed. A part of her wanted to throw a fit when she saw it at dress rehearsals that morning, but she had bit her tongue. Tiana had already questioned her professionalism. She wasn’t about to push things further. After putting on her costume, Emma rushed to hair and makeup. They kept her hair down and artfully tousled, and her makeup was of a rosy hue. The entire look screamed, “I just had sex.” Emma blew out a long breath, and her locks, stiff with hairspray, rose and fell from across her eyes. She tossed her head back and glared at her reflection.

You can do this Emma! She lectured herself. Just play a character. Connect with his. It’s nothing.

Of course, that was a little hard to remember when she joined Killian in the hallway to find him wearing a pair of jeans. And nothing else.

Emma narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “I thought they had you in a white t-shirt?”

Killian shrugged, quirking one brow in that playful way of his. “I think they’ve got you wearing my shirt, love.”

Emma couldn’t help but chuckle, even as she rolled her eyes. The lights flashed and a voice called out that they were back from commercial in three. Emma grabbed Killian by the arm. “Come on, they want us all up in the balcony to watch each other’s routines.”

The package for Jefferson and Belle’s routine confirmed what Belle had told her: Edward Teach was one eccentric choreographer. Not only did he have them rehearse on the beach, but he had them doing lifts in the surf.

“I think he’s watched Dirty Dancing one too many times,” Killian quipped in Emma’s ear. She giggled.

Nonetheless, Jefferson and Belle did a beautiful samba to – no surprise – “The Time of Our Lives.” Emma was impressed that Teach managed to make the choreography fresh and unique, not copying anything from the movie. The lifts were impressive, though nothing like that famous one between Baby and Johnny. In the end, they got two nines and a ten (from Teach, of course).

Emma wasn’t surprised that Aurora Briar took Blue’s rigid teaching style in stride. She was probably used to that type of coaching as an Olympic figure skater. She was, however, surprised at Blue’s choice of music and the style. Aurora and Sean danced a tango to “Roxanne,” the version from the movie Moulin Rouge.

“Did we miss the memo about it being movie theme night?” Killian whispered nervously.

Emma shrugged. “Maybe she was thinking about those Canadian ice dancers that skated to that song. I don’t know.” She patted Killian’s arm. “Our routine is more original. Tiana did a great job.”

He laced his fingers with hers. “You’re right, Swan. It’s just that we’re so close to winning . . .”

She let out a long, shaky breath. “I know.” Then she squeezed his hand before releasing it so they could clap as Aurora and Sean faced the judges. They got two nines and an eight, their own mentor giving them the toughest critiques.

“How long has that stick been up Blue’s arse?” Killian muttered.

Emma smiled and playfully nudged his shoulder. “Come on, it’s better for us, right?”

He scowled and crossed his arms. Emma tried not to admire how his biceps bulged. “I still think it was a low blow. She was their mentor!”

But Aurora’s low scores weren’t the most shocking part of the figure skater’s night. During her interview with Ashley, her pairs figure skating partner, Phillip, came up to congratulate her. After embracing her, the young man got down on one knee, pulling a tiny black velvet box from his coat pocket. Everyone went crazy when he proposed to Aurora on national television. Sobbing, she managed to choke out a, “yes.” The two embraced amidst loud cheers as Ashley segued to a commercial.

All Emma had time to do was give Aurora a brief side hug before she and Killian were ushered quickly down to the dance floor to hit their marks. As she rushed down the stairs, her hand in Killian’s, Emma glanced back at Aurora who only had eyes for Phillip as he pulled her to him again for a long, deep kiss. The sight made a deep longing slowly unfurl in Emma’s chest.

Their bare feet made no sound as they crossed the dance floor. A murmur of anticipation rippled through the audience, and a few whistles rang out. It caused a blush to tint the tips of Killian’s ears as she met his gaze. His eyes were bright under the stage lights, and Emma reached out to grasp his other hand. She wanted to say something, here in this moment that was so close to the end of their journey together, but words failed her. The corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile as he lifted both of her hands to his lips.

“I know, Swan,” he whispered, his breath sending tingles along her knuckles and down her arm. As the lights dimmed around them, she found she could scarcely breathe at the look in his eyes. Their rehearsal footage played, and for the first time that season, they turned to watch it together. Killian put his arm around her, and she let herself lean back against him. She was relieved to see that any emotional meltdowns involving her had been edited out. Instead, her frustrations came across as a deep desire to make the routine perfect for Killian’s sake; so they could win, which was completely true. In every way it was true; she wanted to win now not to prove herself but because Killian deserved it. She wanted to give this to him.

The video came to a close, and Emma stood erect, hitting her opening pose. Killian did the same, pulling her flush against him, lowering his face to hover over her neck, both hands grasping her waist. The opening of the song had been shortened by the live band, and their first movements didn’t begin until the female vocalist belted out the first lines of the song. They both swayed in unison as she sang, When you hold me in the street. Killian spun her out – And you kiss me on the dance floor – then yanked her back to him again – Why can’t it be like that?

Emma had always felt a new kind of freedom dancing with Killian, had always felt that she could lose herself in his arms. But she realized suddenly that Tiana was right, all this time she had been holding back. Because in that moment, there was nothing but the two of them. Emma completely forgot about the judges, the competition, the audience, the cameras. The meaning of the song washed over her, the perfection of each lyric for their relationship cracking her heart wide.

Cause I’m yours kept behind closed doors. Every time I see you, I die a little more. Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls. Emma contracted her body forward like a rag doll, and Killian’s arm circled her waist as he lifted her and carried her across the floor, her arms stretching out for something she couldn’t have. Then he flipped her and caught her bridal-style. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and it had nothing to do with Tiana’s choreography.

The male vocalist sang as Killian lifted her high into the air. Would you leave if I was ready to settle down? Or would you play it safe and stay? The look on his face as she collapsed into his arms from the lift, their foreheads pressed together, was so intense, she knew he wasn’t acting. Neither was she.

When they came to the part where they rolled together on the floor, Emma didn’t have a single thought of embarrassment. At this point, she’d forgotten everything but Killian. Why can’t I kiss you on the dance floor? The lines of the final chorus wrapped around them as Emma straddled Killian, her hands cradling his head. She leaned forward as he rose up towards her, which wasn’t in the choreography. They were supposed to end the dance lying on their backs, hands clasped, then rolling away from each other. Tiana had explained that the end was supposed to show the tragedy of a love that could never be. Instead, Killian’s eyes locked with Emma’s, and she couldn’t have pulled away from him if she’d tried. She pressed her lips to his, her eyes falling closed. He kissed her back as the music faded away.

It was the sound of deafening applause that snapped them both out of it. Killian’s expression was wrecked as he pressed his forehead to hers, tenderly thumbing her cheek. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face there for a moment to collect herself. He rose to a standing position smoothly, carrying her with him.

“We did it, Emma,” he whispered in her ear, his voice slightly choked, “we did it.”

She nodded, still unable to speak, and a tear slipped down her cheek as she pulled away from him. He brushed it away with his thumb and gave her a small smile. She smiled tremulously back at him. They turned towards the judges, and Emma gasped when she saw all three judges on their feet giving them a standing ovation. Killian grabbed her in a side hug, lifting her off her feet as they found that the entire studio audience was also on their feet. Tiana had tears streaming down her face which she didn’t bother to wipe away. The cheers in the studio only seemed to increase, and Marco stepped towards them. He told them that they were running short on time, though his words were practically swallowed up by the roaring crowd. He directed them towards the stairs, and they made their way to the balcony. When they reached the top of the steps, they were surrounded by their competitors who hugged them and congratulated them with enthusiasm. It took a few more minutes even as they reached Ashley’s side for the pandemonium to die down.

“Well,” Ashley said, “we have never in the history of the show had a dance bring the house down like that one. Let’s get your scores.”

Emma and Killian embraced one another as they listened to the scores. Tiana gave them a ten, and they both laughed with joy. Teach also gave them a ten, and Emma squealed while Killian kissed her cheek. Blue gave them a ten, and pandemonium broke out in the studio once again. Killian shouted, then lifted Emma off her feet and spun her around.

“A perfect score!” Ashley announced into the microphone. Then she turned to them with a slightly mischievous smile. “And I’ve got to ask you. This season has been filled with romance, Emma. First with your sister and her partner Graham, then tonight with a proposal. So everyone wants to know: that kiss just now? Was that real?”

Emma’s mouth fell open as her face burned. Killian, bless him, saved the day.

“Well, the song did say kiss you on the dance floor,” he joked with his usual charm.

Laughter rippled throughout the studio, but Ashley wasn’t deterred. “Come on now, Emma. First your twin brother finds true love last season with his partner, now your sister Elsa has found it. We’ve all noticed the chemistry you have with Killian. Is there anything between you two? Has there been a date? Other kisses? Come on, everyone’s dying to know.”

This was the reason no one took the “no romantic entanglements” clause in the contracts seriously. The producers officially claimed to be against hookups on the show, yet they always played up rumors whenever it helped the ratings. Emma swallowed back her frustration as Ashley shoved the microphone in her face. Once again, Killian stepped in, leaning over her shoulder to answer the question instead. Emma figured he was used to fielding invasions of privacy like this anyway.

“Emma is a very dear friend, so of course I care deeply for her. But no, there have been no dates.”

Emma was impressed. He had smoothly answered the question vaguely without lying. She blushed when he winked at her as Ashley announced the next commercial break. As everyone’s attention shifted away from them, Killian pulled her to a far corner of the balcony. The adrenaline of their performance had finally worn off, and she found herself trembling, worrying what he was about to say. His eyes roamed her face, soft and vulnerable.

“You know I wasn’t acting out there, right?” he asked her softly.

Emma bit her lip and nodded. “I know,” she breathed out. She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Neither was I, but –“

“It’s okay,” he cut her off, thumbing the dimple in her chin. “I meant what I said before. I’ll only take what you’re ready to give.”

Emma blinked as she felt tears gather behind her eyes. Her gaze darted over his shoulder. She couldn’t lose it right now, not when they were about to film the close of the show. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Then Killian’s hands were cupping her face, gently turning her gaze to his again.

“I’ll always be your friend, Emma, no matter what.”

His words made all the tension drain from her body. His hands fell away, and Emma felt her tears dissipate. He smiled, and she returned it.

“I’ll hold you to that, Jones,” she said.

Killian may have felt no need to pressure her for more than friendship, but that didn’t mean their fans shared the sentiment. Their dance went viral within hours of the live broadcast, and social media exploded with reactions to their steamy routine.

“Did you see that kiss?! I’m dead!” @trueloveandpixiedust

“You haven’t been on a date with her, Killian? Okay . . . .” @thecaptainsfairy

“They were awfully good at kissing. I don’t think that was their first one.” @neverlandforever

“Did you notice how he answered those questions? They’re a couple, and you can’t convince me otherwise.” @hooker4life

Emma wouldn’t lie, she was a little embarrassed. Killian, of course, helped diffuse everything with his typical jokes when he called later that night to check on her.

“Look on the bright side, Swan, it probably means we got lots of votes. You should have kissed me sooner on national television.”