#hopeandbeans

But Boy Oh Boy.

The vision before her was something to appreciate, that much she would admit. His hair was artfully mussed and his eyes sparked with something that immediately drew her in. He seemed to be excited but also nervous for some reason and there was something adorable about the hint of a smile that was framed by a three-day scruff. To sum it up simply, he was ridiculously too handsome for his own good.

“Evening, lass. You must be the new manager I've heard about.” His Irish accent caught her off guard, sending shivers down her spine as he approache. And somehow she found it difficult to breathe and was absolutely certain that she was having heart palpitations.

She shifted a bit and folded her arms, attempting to hide the smirk threatening her lips. “And how did you ever come up with that conclusion, mister perceptive? The nametag that says ‘Store Manager’ on my shirt? I mean I could have stolen this and locked the actual manager in the back room and instead of stealing money from the till I decided to stand behind this counter just to appear to be working. I bet you were too busy trying to come up with something oh so clever and crafty to say that the thought never crossed your pretty head.” Her voice was thick with sarcasm, but the broad smile it created was well worth the effort that she put forward given her exhausted state.

His eyes drifted to said nametag and reverted back to her gaze. “Honesty, though I am quite perceptive, I didn't even look at your nametag at first. I saw you working from the window.” The man casually leaned on the counter as she held her sarcastic glare. “And I should be offended that you think I'm just a pretty face but I can only imagine that a woman as beautiful as yourself is used to being hit on by handsome men so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Emma felt blush creep into her cheeks and the smile she had been holding back pulled at the corner of her lips. “Ah, peaking through shop windows. So you're a stalker? Got it.”

He chuckled. “Sorry, I should have clarified. I own the cupcake and candy shop across from here.”

Emma gave a nod, reluctantly accepting his answer. Ever since the day she started, she had been curious about the place. She often caught the waft of wonderful smells when she passed during the day and got a peak of the delicious looking chocolates and cupcakes through the window. “So you're Killian?” The name of the shop was ‘Killian’s Candies and Cupcakes’ after all.

“Aye. Killian Jones. You're quite the perceptive one yourself,” he taunted and she responded with an eye roll.

“Well, you never know. You could have just locked up the actual owner and stole his shop like a pirate and are just posing as him.”

He gave her a bemused expression. “You're right, lass. Between the two of us, we could start a fraudulent managers club.”

“You know, that's actually not a bad idea. Free cupcakes and cards for everyone.” They both laughed. “So what is it I can do for you, other than entertain your muse after you felt the urge to come over and pester the new fake management?” she asked, the laughter still lingering in her throat.

He offered a charming smile, his light features never fading and the lilt in his accent and the sarcasm in his tone never letting up. “I actually came here as a potential customer seeking a card, if you're still up for pretending to work. I wouldn't want to interrupt your little scheme you've got going on here.”

Emma pursed her lips in thought. “Well, I might be able to help you with that, seeing as the selection is plentiful and stocked full of cards with sayings and poems that hold a certain cheesiness that matches your pickup lines,” she teased playfully. There was no harshness to her words, but she figured this was the best route to take to cover up the effect he had on her.

He chuckled, suddenly appearing to be a little shy. “Well, now that we’re on the same page… I was wondering if you had a card for a lass who I've just started dating. It's our one month anniversary tomorrow and I'm not even sure if she'll like my gift but I wanted to get her something and express my affections without being overzealous.”

Emma was a little disappointed if she were being honest, but quickly convinced herself it was a good thing and reverted her attention back to the problem at hand, making her way around the counter. “Let's see… I think I might be able to find something.” She quickly transformed into customer service mode and carefully looked through the selection of cards in the ‘for her’ section of the anniversary cards. She found something within minutes and handed the card to him. “How's this? It’s simple and expresses your interest without being overly romantic.”

His eyes lit up as he read the card. “It's perfect. Thank you.”

“Not a problem. Why don't I pretend to ring you up, unless there's anything else you need.”

“No, that's it. I already got her a necklace and was dreading getting her a card because I didn't want to scare her off by being too sappy.”

“Well, unless you got her a heart necklace and confessed your love in the card, I think she will like them both. And that's coming from a woman who has a fear of commitment, so I think you're safe,” she assured him with a laugh, hiding the regret of her words. God, why did she have to tell him that?

Killian lifted a brow, his expression full of intrigue as she rang up his purchase. She was hoping he wouldn't elaborate as he stood at the counter, running his hand through his hair. He started to say something but then paused briefly before saying something else. “Good to know that you approve then.” His voice was light and playful as he smiled and handed her cash to pay for the card.

Bagging up his purchase, she smiled back warmly, relieved that he didn't press her further about her confession.

“Thanks again, Emma.”

“You're very welcome. I hope you enjoy your anniversary.” It took her about five seconds to realize he had used her name and her face contorted in confusion. “How did you-?”

“And here I thought we agreed that I was quite perceptive.”

She looked down at her nametag before lifting her eyes to his again and gave a soft shrug. “It's not really my name but I kind of like it.” she joked as he handed her cash for his purchase and she put the money in the drawer. “It was very nice to meet you, Killian Jones… or whoever you really are.”

“You as well, Emma...”

“Swan,” she finished.

“Emma Swan. It suits you,” he smirked and gave her a parting nod. “If you'd ever like to stop by the shop that I pretend to own and try some of the chocolates that I pretend to make, you're more than welcome.”

Her smile was beaming as she finally released his hand. “I will definitely keep that in mind.”

Killian turned and headed for the exit, looking back at her once more while waving goodbye. “Evening, lass.”

“Goodnight.” Emma watched as he left before she closed the entrance gate with a smile still lingering upon her lips.

It was ten minutes into opening his shop when Killian placed the final cupcake on the the third tier of the display that consisted of an array of chocolate and vanilla cakes with blue icing finished with the fondant of the day - little sailboats. Killian was proud of what he had created five years ago in this little space inside the mall. It was a place that put a smile on people's faces and provided them with sugary treats and perhaps even sweeter customer service.

It was busy for the most part. Even if it wasn't a holiday, people still came in to satisfy their sweet tooth with some of his decadent chocolate truffles after a long day at the office or they came in to order cupcakes for a birthday or other special occasion.

“For a guy who pretends to own this place I must say it's much better than I expected. You must run a tight ship here, Captain.”

A smile blossomed over his lips as he looked up from his task and saw jaded, green eyes and long, golden hair. It had been a week since he'd met her and she was rather a sight for sore eyes at nine in the morning. She was holding a warm smile and what appeared to be a coffee in her hand from the Starbucks on the lower level. “Well, I do my best.”

She laughed and approached the counter, handing him the beverage. “I figured since we’re part of the same club and all, a fellow member could use some caffeine.”

Killian accepted the coffee appreciatively and flashed her a smirk. “Thanks, lass. It’s rather quite draining pretending to own a shop.”

“Probably just as draining as pretending to manage one.” He nodded in agreement as he took a slow sip, savoring the taste of the hot liquid hitting his tongue and awaking his senses. And it turned out, she somehow knew how he liked his coffee. “I hope you don't mind a little sugar in your coffee.”

After he swallowed the liquid and licked his lips, he smirked again, speaking in a whimsical tone. “Ah, so you assumed that since I reduced myself to fake-owning a bakery full of sweet and sugary confections, that I wouldn't be opposed to a little sweetness in my coffee as well. Bold move, love.”

She seemed to shudder at his use of the word. “I may have asked the barista at the Starbucks and she was more than happy to divulge such pertinent intel.”

He lifted an amused brow. “Ah, I see you have the same stalkery tendencies as I do. We make quite the dynamic duo.”

She laughed again and the sound was quickly becoming one of his favorites. “And okay I'll admit I initially decided to get you the coffee because I was hoping you might be able to do me a favor?” Emma bit her lip, a hopeful glint in her emerald depths.

“Ah, I should have known that there was a price for caffeine and good company.”

Emma blushed as she swiped a strand of hair behind her ear. A mixture of guilt and shyness was quite becoming of her.

“What can I do you for you, malady?”

“Well, I was hoping I could order some cupcakes at the last minute. They're for my nephew’s birthday. Well, technically he's not my nephew… he's my best friend’s kid and she's practically like a sister to me. And I kind of promised I would help her out and pick up cupcakes for her son's birthday party this evening... and it sort of slipped my mind until this morning, so I was hoping maybe you could whip up a couple dozen?” She clasped her hands together gave him a pleading look, her lips forming an adorable pout that he just didn't care to resist.

“Ah. You make it sound so easy. Let me just get out my magic mixer and sprinkle in some pixy dust,” he quipped.

She rolled her eyes and looked through the cupcake case before her gaze fell upon the countertop display. “What if I bought those sailboat cupcakes and then you made a few more to complete the order? Please, I'll pay you double if you can have them ready by five o’clock.”

He drew his hand to his chin as though he had to consider it carefully. “Okay, I accept your challenge. I will have two dozen sailboat cupcakes by five o’clock… and because I'm such a such a nice guy, I will charge you the regular price.”

She practically jumped up and down in excitement. “Thank you so much! If this bakery case wasn't in my way I'd kiss you on the lips right now.”

It was Killian's turn to blush as a smoldering smirk took over his features. “Well, as much as gratitude is in order, I’m afraid my girlfriend might not take it so well if I were receiving kisses on the lips from other women.”

She lifted a brow in surprise. “Girlfriend? So, I take it your anniversary went smoothly.”

“Aye. And thank you. Milah loved the card along with the gift. Either that or she's quite the actress.”

“Well, she's still with you, so that's saying something, right?”

“Oi, what are you trying to say, love? That there are no other reasons for being with me?”

“Mhmm, exactly.” She stepped in front of another display case, this time eyeing the truffles inside. “You wouldn't happen to have any hot chocolate and cinnamon-flavored truffles would you?”

“That's quite an odd request but I'm sorry to say that I don't.”

“I figured,” she said shaking her head in disapproval.

“Apologies, Emma. But may I suggest the Mocha or Espresso chocolates? Normally I have Irish cream truffles but I'm fresh out until my next shipment of ingredients.”

The smirk she flashed him sent a shiver down his spine; it was a mixture of sweet and salty. “No Irish creams either? Very disappointing.”

“Well, love, since you're that much of a fan of Irish cream, I'd offer myself but I'm afraid I'm off of the market as you know.” He gave her a wink and was rewarded with the sight of her mouth parting and the blush that took over her cheeks. “Or maybe some rum flavored truffles. Those are my personal favorite.”

“That's good to know but I think I'll just take a pound of the Mocha,” she decided.

“Mocha it is.”

As he gathered some of the chocolates and weighed them before placing them in golden tin box, Emma slipped her hand into her pocket to retrieve some cash. He rang them up and handed her the box, accepting the payment.

“Enjoy, love.”

“Thanks, I will. And I'll be back to pick up my order.” She flashed him a smile before walking out.

When Emma entered the shop at five o’clock, he had twenty-four cupcakes baked and frosted all ready to go in a white bakery box.

He walked around the counter, raising the lid to show them to her. “Here you are, love. Two dozen sailboat cupcakes for the little lad. She flashed him a grateful smile, her eyes sweeping over the baked goods. “This is amazing, thank you.”

He tilted his head, wagging his eyebrows as he pointed to his cheek. “Well… I've been reconsidering your gratitude and decided I would take that kiss now.”

Emma looked at him, confused. “What about your girlfriend?”

“Well, I said she wouldn't like if I were kissed on the lips, I didn't say anything about on the cheek.”

A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth and she leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. His breath hitched as he felt her warm lips on his skin, but just as soon as she kissed him, she was pulling away. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, love.”

He went back behind the counter, trying to hide the smile threatening his lips or the fact this heart was racing as he brushed his thumb over his cheek.

Emma paid for the cupcakes, thanking him again and bidding him farewell before she left.

“Do you have a card that says ‘I'm sorry that I was acting like an absolute arse, please forgive me?’” Killian asked Emma, bearing a to-go cup of hot chocolate and cinnamon.

“Hmmmm…. let me check on that,” Emma happily accepted the beverage and went around the counter in search of such a card. After finding one that would do, she brought it to the counter to ring it up.

“You're a life-saver,” he said appreciatively, not even looking at the card to see what it said.

“No problem. Although I'm contemplating getting her a sympathy card,” she teased with a playful smile.

He shot her a sarcastic smirk. “Funny lass.”

“Can I get two cupcakes with royal blue frosting?”

“Anything for my partner in crime. What's the occasion this time?”

She gave him a sheepish look as she bit her bottom lip. “Well, I've kind of been seeing someone and tomorrow's his birthday.“

Killian looked at her, surprised. “I see. What happened to the girl with the fear of commitment?” The question flew from his lips before he could stop it.

“Well, I decided to take a page from your girlfriend’s book. If a woman like her can find happiness with an Irish man who's sweet and charming, then so can I.”

He stuck out his hand to take the coffee from her and she shot him a look of confusion. “I'll need to check your cup to make sure there's actually coffee and not alcohol.”

She looked at him in mock offense. “What? I can't hand out compliments?”

“You can, but I only chose to believe that it's inspired by a little splash of whiskey or rum, perhaps some Irish cream?”

A wicked grin crossed her lips. “Actually, I already got me some Irish cream. I told you I was taking a page from your girlfriend's book.”

“So, you found an Irish lad, aye?”

“Aye, matey,” she said in an failed attempt at an Irish accent. “Graham, the town Sheriff asked me out on a date and I said yes. So, we've been dating for about two weeks. And I didn't want to get him something too grand for his birthday because it's obviously not serious yet. And as much as the stereotype is true about police officers and pastry, I thought he'd appreciate a cupcake instead. The other one is for me so I don't eat his on the way home.”

Killian chuckled and retrieved the cupcakes from the case. “Coming right up. I also got something else for you.”

She raised a curious brow as Killian handed her a golden tin box. She lifted the lid, revealing a dozen chocolate truffles with dark red sprinkles.

“They're hot chocolate and cinnamon flavored,” he explained.

Her eyes lit up as a bright smile spread across her face. “You made these just for me?”

He nodded. “Aye.”

“How much?”

“They're on me. Consider it an early birthday present.”

She immediately removed one from the paper lining and took a bite. The pleasing look on her face and the soft moan that escaped her throat was all the payment he needed. (Also, another kiss on the cheek didn't hurt either).

For his birthday, she bought him a bottle of rum and a wall decoration from her store that read ‘Work like a sailor, drink like a pirate’. He hung it up proudly in his shop.

“Do you have a birthday card for an older brother that says in more subtle words ‘I love you Liam but I would never say it to your face because you might let it go to your head’?”

Emma laughed before she helped him find a card for his brother who Killian had mentioned was a Naval Officer. She found the perfect one and Killian gladly purchased the card, signing it ‘YOUNGER brother’.

It became tradition. Every holiday, special occasion and odd day in between, they came into the other’s shop with hot beverages, seeking product from the other. For Killian, it was cards and roses for his girlfriend on their anniversary or Valentine's Day. Killian would always ask for Emma's assistance and she was always more than happy to oblige.

In return, Emma would come into his shop, asking for some sugar in pursuit of chocolates or cupcakes for her boyfriend or the people who were family to her. She had told Killian that she had met David and Mary Margaret college years ago and moved to Storybrooke to be closer to them.

On Valentine's Day, she came in seeking red velvet chocolate truffles because she had a hot date (since Graham had to work that night, her hot date turned out to be her nephew who she was looking after while Mary Margaret and David went out to dinner).

When they weren't seeking gifts at the other’s shop, they were engaged in friendly competition. Killian would challenge her to see which chocolates were sold the most - Killian's handmade truffles or the Russell Stover chocolates from Hallmark that Killian insisted was ‘not real chocolate’. He always won, and Emma would say it was because he ran a tight ship but the truth was that she knew it was because she cheated, suggesting to her customers that they buy his chocolates instead (she would never tell him that though). And he would never mention the fact that every time customers ordered birthday cupcakes from him, he would suggest they stop at the Hallmark Store across the way for quality service and a birthday card.

“Can I get five boxes of truffles that are anything but Irish Creams please?” Killian started to greet her as she walked up to the counter, but his heart immediately ached in his chest when he saw her. Emma's shoulders were slumped, eyes red and swollen.

“Love? What's wrong?”

She let out a long, depressing sigh. “Oh, you know, the usual story. Girl meets boy. Boy puts on a charming act, making girl fall head over heels. Boy cheats on girl. Girl’s heart gets broken into a million pieces. I wonder if I have a Hallmark card for that.” Emma shrugged. “No, on second thought, I’ll just drown my sorrows with chocolate and alcohol while watching old movies in my bedroom until I fall into a sugar and alcohol-induced coma,” she groaned, her voice small and strangled.

Killian's jaw clenched at the idea that anyone would do that, especially to a woman like Emma. “Or how about I just punch the bloke in the face?”

“Thanks, but I'll just take the less satisfying route because apparently I don't deserve to be happy like all of the birthday cards I've ever received say I do.”

Killian came around the counter and pulled her into a hug, wrapping her up in his arms. “Not true, sweetheart. You deserve so much more,” he whispered and let her sob into his shirt to her heart's content.

It took three months, lots of tissues, (non-Irish cream) chocolate and alcohol for Emma to pick up the pieces of her broken heart. As sure as her heart had mended, she found out that Milah had dumped Killian, saying that he cared more about his business than her. Or maybe he cared too much about the manager who worked at the Hallmark Store. Either way, he was in her shop the morning after with the same gutted expression, seeking comfort from his best friend and partner in crime.

“Do you have a card for a poor lad who just got his bleeding heart ripped out of his chest? Or maybe one for the woman who broke said lad’s heart that reads ‘You're an ungrateful bitch’?”

Emma had to laugh at that one because it was completely unlike him. She then came around the counter to pull him into a warm, comforting hug, offering him some Russell Stovers chocolates, because it wasn't really possible for Killian to feel worse than he already did. But she got a small laugh from him at least.

On the following Valentine's Day, Emma was relieved when it was almost over. She just didn't understand why everyone had to wait until the last minute to make their purchases for this dreadful day. If she had to look at one more stupid red, white and pink gift bag with tissue paper and a singing teddy bear holding a heart, then she was going to scream. Okay, maybe she held on to some lingering resentment for her cheating ex-boyfriend, but she had never been much of a fan of the holiday anyway.

She had closed the shop, her purse strapped to her shoulder when she found a crystal vase full of red roses sitting on floor, with an envelope sticking out. “Really?” Emma sighed and mumbled to herself, wondering why someone would just leave a bouquet of flowers like that. She picked it up and before she took another step, she noticed that her name was written on the envelope. Removing it from the bouquet, she tucked the vase inside her left arm to open it. When she pulled the card from the envelope, she let out a small laugh. It was a handmade card with two halves of a heart drawn on the front. She opened it up and read the hand-written words.

My Lovely Emma,

I know this is not as good as one of your sappy Hallmark cards, especially considering the fact that I did not acquire your skills and expertise and it's certainly not as beautiful or breathtaking as you, but I didn't think there was a card that could precisely describe exactly what you mean to me (unless you have one for an Irish shop owner who's head over heals for the blonde manager from the Hallmark Store but is too foolish to say so to her face) so I’m hoping maybe a fellow member of the same club would take pity on a lost soul. After all, we've both proven to be failures at relationships that could very well be attributed to our stalkery tendencies and the fake-managing of our shops so clearly we're destined to be together. And don't worry, I'm not asking you to be my Valentine, only asking a lass to spend time with her other half.

Your best friend and partner in crime, Killian

P.S. apologies for the awful drawing but I figured two broken hearts equal a whole one, right?

Emma's eyes were welling up with tears and she lifted her head over the card and let out a small gasp. Killian was standing in front of his shop gazing at her in admiration. And in his hands, she saw that he was holding one of his tin boxes. He gave her a pleading expression as he lifted the box and removed the lid, revealing an assortment of chocolate truffles.

She laughed in response and tucked the card and envelope in her purse as she walked over to him. Her strides became quicker and was soon closing the distance between them.

“So I take it your answer is a yes?” he asked in a hopeful tone.

“That's not fair. You know I can't resist your sugary sweets.”

“I was hoping that if the flowers and card didn't reel you in, my chocolates would. And I've got a variety of all of your favorites, except of course Irish creams,” he chuckled, replacing the lid.

She flashed him a smirk when his gaze met hers again and took the box from his hands, setting her items on the nearby bench. She came back to him and leaned in, speaking in a whisper as she grabbed the collar of his shirt. “You're all the Irish I need.”

She pulled him in for a kiss, swallowing his groan as he cupped her jaw in his hand, parting his lips against hers. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and she melted into the kiss, sighing happily as her fingers weaved through his hair. Her heart was beating rapidly as he found her tongue and just as she predicted, he tasted even sweeter than his Irish cream chocolates. Emma angled her head to deepen the kiss, letting the scruff on his chin scratch pleasantly against her skin.

Killian caressed her cheek and they broke for air, panting breathlessly. She licked her lips to savor the taste, trying to regain some semblance before removing something from her purse and handing it to him.

He opened the envelope, pulling out the pink card that had a picture of Captain Hook and said ‘I'm hooked on you’ in one heart bubble and ‘Be my Valentine’ in another. He looked up at her, a mixture of shock and amusement falling over his features.

“I know it's not much...”

He raised his hand to caress her cheek, capturing her lips briefly. “It's perfect.”

“But I feel bad… you got me roses, a thoughtful handmade card and chocolates and all I got you was a cheesy Hallmark card.”

Killian chuckled softly as he brushed his nose against hers, taking a moment to breathe her in. “You’re right,” he agreed softly. “I guess we’ll have to figure out a way for you to make it up to me.”

She lifted a curious brow. “What would you like?”

He pursed her lips in contemplation. “Hmm… I will accept countless cups of coffee with sugar and more of your kisses as payment,” he smirked.

***

The first few days are terrible.

The process of bringing a dead person back to the land of the living is quite a feat but not without its own nightmare-inducing side effects. His neck throbs often, a ghostly reminder of the cut that had ultimately ended his life. His hands shake uncontrollably. His head aches. 

The lights are too bright. He feels himself squinting in the sunshine, uncomfortable in the bright atmosphere so unlike the red-washed hell he had escaped from, and more than once has to make excuses to escape back to their (their. His and Emma’s. What a wonderful thing to finally say and what a terrible price they had to pay) house and curl up underneath the sheets of their bed.

(He feels like a teenager,  brooding and shut out from the world and refusing to venture outside lest his problems catch up to him, but this time there is no laughing Liam telling him off, or a promising life full of adventures on the sea by his brother’s side beckoning to him.)

But even as if closes his eyes, there is only fire, great and terrible fire that rages beneath his eyelids every time he dares to fall asleep. He screams and screams for Liam, for Emma, for love or comfort or something to save him until gentle hands shake him awake and his head is cradled against the chest of his love, harsh exhales sputtering from his lungs and warm lips pressed against his forehead.

(Those are the worst times.)

*

He tries not to let it show.

But god, it’s so hard.

He laughs. He smiles. But it’s pained and forced a lot of the time as the villainous acts he had sworn off come back raging in his mind, draining any happiness he had managed to recover.

Dried up. Useless. Distraction. Painful words uttered from his own mouth, at the woman that he had promised to never let down or abandon (how ironic the whole situation is, really. Man meets woman. Man falls in love with woman. Woman is the one person in his life in centuries man can firmly say is worth fighting for. Man says he’ll never leave or hurt woman.

*

Man dies.)

*

“Talk to me.”

He glances down, blonde hair splayed across his chest, Emma’s face gazing back at him. The window on the wall behind them is open and allows the moonlight to spill across her features, lightening her green eyes and illuminating her pleading expression.

“About what, love?” His voice is careful but nonchalant, but he’s stalling and doubts he could fool anyone, much less her.

As predicted, she huffs and props herself up on one elbow. “You tell me you’re going to sleep and I think you’re telling the truth so I go to sleep and every time I wake up, Killian, you’re either never there or wide awake.” She uses her other hand to move some of the hair off his face (although it doesn’t flop over his forehead like it used to; she’d been very insistent on the haircut once they had returned). “Nightmares?”

Her voice is gentle and thoughtful, far more empathetic than he could’ve expected, but he knows it’s been affecting her too. Her mostly, out of all of her family that had journeyed to the Underworld, because it was her that had to endure the painful process of retrieving his soul. Her that had to witness all his treacherous deeds, agony and hatred. Her that had to hold his weeping, flickering form in his arms, not once deterred by the horrors she had seen.

(But she probably had been, but had done a good job of hiding it, for his sake. Sometimes, he loves her so much he forgets to breathe.)

Emma had seen her fair share of trauma. He owes her an explanation of his.

He swallows, wondering how he’d explain it. “You could say that,” he says finally, quietly.

And it spills out. The burning room. The horrid feeling of having his soul dragged away from his body.Hands on his face, a voice begging him to stay. It’s long and he feels like he’s talking nonsense at times but she listens and never interrupts, hand slowly caressing his face (such a normal gesture but he never wants her to stop).

When he finishes, breathless and near tears (they’re always on the surface these days; it’s new and he hates it but it’s uncontrollable and he’s too tired to care) she shuffles closer to him and wraps her arms around his neck, lips pressed against his temple.

“I know who you can talk to,” she says softly, and that is how Killian finds himself in a makeshift Netherworld club consisting of Snow White, Prince Charming, Henry Mills and Sleeping Beauty.

*

Regina spends the entire morning researching her vault in hopes of finding an answer as to why a person brought back to life would find themselves in the Netherworld, but to no avail.

(And they can’t ask Gold after he disappeared off the face of the earth, bringing Belle along with him. Killian’s extremely concerned for his friend’s safety, but they haven’t managed to make contact with her in these weeks, and he guesses if there’s one thing Gold would protect, it’s Belle.)

(Still, he worries.)

*

Their situation is different from his, he knows. A sleeping curse is far less deadly than death, but his nightmares are congruent to those they too have experienced. They are gentle and kind and Henry brings laughter to the group, and Killian feels better, a little bit.

(The comfort of those who understand his pain is beyond what Killian has ever received, and he thinks it’s one of the reasons why he and Emma Swan, orphans by fate, fell for each other so hard in the first place.)

The first meeting takes place in Mary Margaret’s loft one February morning, which Emma practically dragged him to despite his protests on not wanting to waste anyone’s time, which she dutifully ignored. It’s a little crowded, and he playfully grumbles to her about it before she laughs, bids him farewell, and leaves him in the hands of her smiling family and the brunette princess whose heart he vaguely remembers saving a lifetime ago.

Snow (he still isn’t sure what to call her. Mary Margaret? Your Highness? Madam? Mother? Woop, too far ahead, Killian, too far ahead) ushers him to a chair as they all take their place around the living area. He shifts around, a little awkward, returning an encouraging smile Henry shoots him from across the room.

He prays to himself to not mess this up.

*

The darkness still lingers, hovering over his head and in his heart. It whispers to him during the night, about Liam and Milah and how he should’ve stayed with them and how awfully selfish Emma Swan was to go and get him out and did she really care about him or was it just how he made her feel and he should leave, he should leave and never return-

And that’s when he grasps Emma’s fingers, anchoring himself to the light once more, grasping for the bit of humanity he has left in his soul.

It takes a while. But things get better. They help him get better.

*

“So, what are you going to do for Valentine’s Day?”

It’s their third meeting that week, and Mary Margaret has just gone off to put a wiped out Neal to bed. David is washing up dishes and Aurora’s left for her family. Killian makes to leave but Henry’s comment startles him.

He gives him a blank look. “Come again, lad?”

“Are you doing anything for Mom for Valentine’s Day?” Henry asks again, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know, chocolates? Roses? A serenade on the Jolly?”

“Don’t put too much pressure on him, Henry,” David calls from the sink, sponge rubbing plates vigorously, but his voice light with amusement. “He did come back from hell, and all.”

Killian gives them both wondrous looks. The name rings a very distant bell shrouded in fog but the terminology in this land still never fails to astound him. “May I be enlightened onto what this...Valentine’s Day is?”

Henry exchanges knowing looks with David, and gestures for Killian to settle back in his chair.

*

And Killian totally doesn’t spend the next hour plotting with them about the perfect date for Emma after they explain all the necessities he needs to know.

*

The fire has quieted down today.

He decides to go for a cozier route. It’s too cold to set up a candlelit dinner on the deck of the Jolly, so he prepares a dinner with Mary Margaret’s help in their house. (He did think about setting it up below deck, offering them a more romantic setting and a tiny bit more privacy, since no one really headed to the docks these days, but the dinner with Dark Emma came flashing back and he decides not to.) (It’s too painful of a thing to remember.)

Henry’s out with Emma for the afternoon, distracting her as long as they need. Bless the boy’s heart, honestly.

Mary Margaret is, to put it simply, in awe of his culinary skills. While Killian had left it up to the more talented of his crew to prepare meals, he did spend quite a bit of time on his own or with Liam and gained necessary acquisitions in order to make sure he didn’t starve to death (and perhaps he’s a little creative with them, is all).

It’s not extremely comfortable, but even he knows the kind-hearted queen can’t keep him at arm’s length for long. She’s gentle with him, not unlike Emma, and even makes him laugh a couple of times. They exchange snarky comments. She tells him about her life as a bandit. He tells her about his life on the Navy with Liam. Their stories quietly die down as they get to the endings; Snow giving up Emma, Liam dying. The heavy silence that settles over them is a lot less pressing than earlier days.

It’s a start.

(But then he sees Snow’s smile, and how complete and approving it is, and his spirit soars.)

*

He managed to sleep last night.

Regina had created the potion to spill on the medallion that would offer him aid in the burning room. She gives it to him with a nod and a smile, listing the instructions and receiving a very surprising hug from Emma in reply.

It helped, holding on to it. The fire had quieted until he was standing alone in the room, with the red drapes flickering with yellow beads of light and a sudden smell of her. Emma. Of cinnamon and the sea and autumn leaves as they fall and hope and love and comfort.

And he felt himself falling, the drapes fading to black and lulling his mind into a void of darkness as he falls, and falls, and falls…

Nothing haunted him that night.

*

And waking up in Emma’s arms without a cry of agony, just feeling her breath on his neck and the sunlight lighting up their room is so relieving and so peaceful he nearly starts to cry again.

*

And afterwards, after they’ve finished their dinner (Emma’s reaction, much to his disappointment, hadn’t showcased too much surprise, damn her perceptiveness and Henry’s inability to hide secrets, but she had kissed him to the ends of the earth so there’s a plus) they find themselves tangled in the sheets in their room, fingers curling together as the snow fell outside, as gentle as summer rain.

*

It’ll take time, he knows. Weeks, months, maybe even years before he starts feeling like Killian Jones again, and maybe even then it won’t completely fade.

But as long as she’s here with him, he’ll be okay.