#heart sharing

(She thinks that might have been part of the shock, too. Emma’s mother and father were always on the same page even before they shared a heart, the truest of True Loves with everything that came along with it. They probably barely even noticed the other’s feelings rattling around in their chests, already so attuned to each other’s every thought. Killian and her, though… well, until recently, Emma hadn’t even thought love was in the cards for her, let alone True Love . It’s only thanks to Killian that she’d started to believe the former; now, it’s only because of the success of their heart split that she’s forced to face the latter. They’d still been trying to learn about each other in the middle of all this insanity with the Snow Queen. (And, apparently, Rumplestilskin too; Emma only hopes Belle can get to the dagger before that demon can.) Their relationship had still been so young, if hopeful. It’s a new kind of pressure, knowing that their affection for one another - oh hell, why is Emma beating around the bush after all this, their love for each other - is pure enough to allow her to give him half her heart. It changes… everything , and as much comfort as Emma pulls from feeling exactly how much he feels for her, it’s a little terrifying to have her future presented so obviously.)

(Oh god, she hadn’t even stopped to think about the fact that this probably goes both ways, that he most likely can feel everything she does as well. Hopefully he’s able to feel everything beyond that burst of panic she couldn’t quite suppress and knows exactly how deeply she feels and how much she cares, even if she’s scared about what feeling this much means.)

(She thinks he might understand, though, the way that loving someone makes you vulnerable, makes you open to the deepest depths of pain alongside all the goodness to be found there too. After all, he’s lived through that hurt himself.)

“Emma?” he asks, reaching for her cheek in what is starting to become a familiar move. Even without the confusion and worry echoing in her chest, she’d be able to see it on his face in the furrowing of his eyebrows, the one she’s come to recognize even without the assistance of some True Love heart-splitting magic. “What’s wrong, love?” He doesn’t seem to have noticed the change himself, the way he has extra feelings not quite his own rattling around in his chest. Maybe it’s an awareness thing - her parents didn’t notice after the were returned to Storybrooke, after all, and they didn’t know either. Maybe the difference between her and Killian right now is that she knows that something should be different, had already halfway been watching for it.

(Maybe, too, their current emotions are so similar, just for different reasons - Emma panicking over everything their shared heart implies, and Killian over her own panicked reaction. What a pair they are, really, a couple of messed up idiots just trying to play it cool.)

“Nothing,” she tries to dismiss. “I’m fine.”

Usually, Killian would let it go, respecting her walls (no longer sky high, dismantling brick by brick with every affectionate touch and easy endearment, but still very much present), but today he pushes. Figures. “No, I don’t think you are,” he responds, stroking his thumb across the apple of her cheek. “Tell me, Emma. Let me help.”

She has three options in the face of his pleading: one, to continue to insist that nothing’s the matter (which she knows won’t work - an open book, he’d called her once, and she knows that still holds true, now more than ever); two, to spill it all, all her fears about embracing what seems to be a forever kind of love on the off chance that he doesn’t feel the same or won’t always feel the same (which is honestly kind of insane to even consider, like this man hasn’t conquered realms and time and given up his home for her, but it’s still a real and terrifying fear; or three, to get mad and focus on the danger he put himself in instead.

Obviously, she chooses the third. It’s easier that way.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” Emma hisses, shoving at Killian’s chest. His face quickly shifts from concern, over to shock, before settling into something that looks an awful lot like guilt. God, she dreads finding out how he got into this whole mess if it warrants that kind of look. “I’ve already had to deal with this with Henry, and with Graham… I told you I couldn’t lose you too!”

“I know, love.” She can feel traces of his shame trickling through her veins as Killian hangs his head. Maybe she feels a little bad about this dressing down, but now that Emma’s started this, she has some questions that need answering.

“How long?” she demands.

“How long… what?”

“How long was it missing? How long was Gold in charge? Were you the one that took me on that date, or was he already pulling the strings? What was it, your hand for your heart?”

“No, no, that was just us, I promise, love. He didn’t have anything to do with that night.” Killian rushes to get all that out, but she can still see in his eyes that it’s not the whole story. Her lie detector doesn’t pick up anything - there’s no lie in his words to find, she trusts him on that, but she still knows Killian, and knows when there are things he doesn’t want to say for fear of scaring her or hurting her. ‘Open book’ goes both ways, or something like that. It doesn’t hurt that she can feel the way his (her?) heart rate picks up and the new rush of shame that comes with it, either.

“But it did have something to do with your hand,” she guesses.

Killian nods in resignation. “Aye. Maybe not directly, but that’s where it started. I know I said it was a gift, that there was no deal, but that wasn’t exactly true.”

“Killian…” she groans at the revelation, but he just keeps going right past her.

“The deal was that I wouldn’t tell Belle that the dagger he’d given her was a fake, and he’d give me my hand in return. I shouldn’t have done it, especially since I wasn’t positive that hers was a fake, but it seemed risk free. My hand was just sitting there; I knew he could reattach it, and I knew he wouldn’t do it without proper motivation. But then the events of the rest of that night… I was the one who beat the thief, Scarlet. I was so angry about our interrupted date, and I just… gave into that. Afterwards, I became convinced it was the hand that was the problem - that it was trying to turn me into the man I used to be.” Emma scoffs at that, drawing a rueful grin from Killian. “Ridiculous, I know. But I was desperate. By that point the Crocodile had switched the fake dagger for the real one, so when I went back to coerce him into removing it, I didn’t have that leverage any more. But I couldn’t risk hurting you , or Henry, so when he said that he’d remove the hand again in return for a small favor, I took it.” He sighs heavily. “Little did I know that favor would be absorbing the Apprentice into that blasted hat.”

“Killian,” Emma tries again, softer this time. She understands he feels the need to confess, but it just seems to be hurting him more than anything. She knows Killian, and she knows Gold; for once in her life, Emma is confident that this whole idiocy with his hand only started with the best of intentions.

Still, he won’t let her say anything. “After that, it was just a spiral I couldn’t get out of. Gold kept holding it over my head. I knew if you found out, you’d hate me for lying to you, and it would all be over between us. I finally worked up the courage when your magic went haywire and you were about to let the Crocodile suck you into the hat, but he got there first and deleted the speaking message I left you on your talking phone explaining everything. Thank the gods Elsa was able to talk you out of it. In the meantime, however…”

“He took your heart,” Emma finishes.

“Aye.”  Even without the dejected look gracing his face, Emma can feel the fear and sadness coming from him.

“None of this is your fault,” she assures him - maybe prematurely, since he hasn’t said anything, but she knows he’s thinking it all the same. It’s the little things like this that makes the success of their heart split make sense - the way they know each other better than anyone else, with or without declarations. It makes the panic recede just a little bit, even if she is still worried about how he’ll react when he finds out. “But I don’t get it - why ? Why would you make a deal with Gold, and for your hand of all things?” It just doesn’t make sense to her. He’s lived 300 years without the limb and been happy to avoid Gold since their Neverland detente; it doesn’t make sense that he’d do anything to change that.

Killian mutters something, too low for Emma to understand - a real first from her walking dictionary. “What was that?”

He sighs. “I just wanted to be a better man for you, love,” he replies quietly, still avoiding her eyes. “You deserve a lot more than some old run-down pirate. I can’t even hold you with both hands. Even when I was asking I knew that having my hand back wouldn’t make me the man you deserve, but it was a start.”

Emma stares at him with horror creeping up within her - her own horror. “Did I make you feel like that?” The words are barely a whisper when she manages to force them out. “Did I do that?”

Another rush of horror rushes through her, this time from Killian as his eyes pull wide and panicked to match. “Oh no, love, of course not, I just worry —”

“Because let me clarify now,” she interrupts. “I don’t care. I can’t tell you how little I care about the fact you’ve only got one hand. That’s so - that’s so stupid ! You are a good man , and I’ve never wanted you to be anything but exactly who you are.” It’s true; even in the beginning, when Emma didn’t quite know what to think of the flirtatious pirate, she’d been intrigued, one hand and shady past and all.

“I know that you think that now, love, but what if —” Killian tries to protest, but Emma isn’t having it.

“No! That’s not going to change!” Abruptly, she shoves at his chest. “Do you feel that?”

Killian pulls his brows together in confusion. “Do I feel you shoving at my chest?”

“Don’t get smart with me,” Emma warns. Not that she thinks that’s what he was trying to do in the first place, but she’s a little too on edge about everything to care. Score one for communication or something. “You’re feeling some frustration, right? But don’t know why? And it doesn’t really feel like a real feeling, more like a muted version.”

“Aye, but how do you know that?”

“Because you know how you’re still here, even after Gold crushed your heart? I split mine and gave you half. I’ve been feeling your emotions ever since you woke up, and it sounds like that works both ways.”

“Oh, Emma, you shouldn’t have done that,” he tries to protest. Emma hopes he can feel just how deep that stabs her soul.

“How can you say that?” she cries. “You were dead ! He killed you! I took a chance, and maybe it was dangerous, but I wasn’t willing for it to end like this. And it worked! You know what that means?” Killian shakes his head. “That we’re True Love . So don’t try to tell me that it wasn’t worth it, not when I almost lost that - lost you .”

They sit in silence for a few moments as Emma lets him process. It’s an awful lot to take in, she knows, but she can feel every bit of the awe that’s spreading through his body echoing in her own.

“You love me,” he finally says. It’s not a question; Emma assumes he can feel that glowing within her just as easily as she can feel his own love for her, a diffuse warmth that feels somewhere between a cozy blanket wrapped around her and the sun shining down on her skin.

“I do.”

Killian practically beams at the words, reaching to pull Emma close against his body. “I love you too,” he returns, almost giddy to finally say it.

“I know,” she laughs. “I can feel it.”

There’s nothing else to really say after that, but that’s alright - there’s other ways to say everything without words. The kiss they share is gentle, but thorough, passionate in its own way - lips just brushing over each other before the kiss deepens, allowing tongues to tangle as hands wander and bodies melt further into one another. When they finally separate, Emma finds her hands resting on Killian’s chest, right above where his half of their heart beats strongly beneath his ribs.

“Promise me you won’t ever do anything like that again,” she repeats, “because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I promise, love,” he swears. “I’ve got your heart to protect, after all.”