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Emma pressed her back against the stone wall of the cave, listening out for the footfall of the Lost Boys just outside, and trying to ignore the sensation of Killian’s arm brushing against hers in the close quarters their hiding spot left them in.
They’d only been split from the group because, after her mother’s bombshell in the Echo Cave, also known as ‘we want to have another child and pretend like it’s our first’, Emma had needed a breather, and Killian had followed her.
Of course, Emma hadn’t got more than a second of processing time before they’d been ambushed, and quickly resolved it was better to scatter than to take them on fifteen-to-one.
It was only thanks to Killian’s expertise and familiarity with Pan’s cretins that they’d made it away unscathed, although Emma silently claimed some credit for finding the cave for them to duck into.
She allowed the overload of feelings to wash over her for a moment: Killian confessing his love his something, her parents’ respective secrets, Neal being alive and wanting to act like everything was fine when it most certainly was not…
After a few moments of silence, she inched away from Killian, clearing her throat and getting out of her own head. “I think we’ve lost them.”
“Aye. We make quite the team, love,” he winked at her, an easy smile pulling at his lips that she felt she had to return.
It had to take some guts to look her in the eye after what he’d just said about their kiss, and she wasn’t going to make this any more awkward than she had to.
Never mind that she was also envisioning his lips on hers, his hand on the back of her neck, the way her fingers had gripped onto the lapels of his coat—
Stop it, Emma.
She had to find Henry. She had to deal with Neal. She did not have to follow this scoundrel into uncharted waters for the hell of it.
Emma swallowed, forcing herself to look away from Killian’s mouth. She tried to surreptitiously pull at the collar of her top to cool herself down. “Do you think the others will be able to find us?”
“I think we have a better chance of finding them, seeing as I’m the one who knows the lay of the land.” Killian stated it less as a brag and more as a fact, and Emma would have believed his nonchalance if not for the way his eyes were sparkling.
She rolled her eyes, exhaling raggedly. “Of course you do. I’m just saying that this is a good place to stop and give them the chance to come to us before we hunt them down.”
If Emma was being honest, she also didn’t quite want to face her parents yet.
Killian licked his lips, considering her suggestion. “It’s up to you, love.”
God, it was so fucking hot in that cave, and it didn’t help that they were stood so close together.
Deciding that finding her parents was a wiser choice than remaining alone with Killian and doing something foolish, Emma sighed deeply and accepted her fate. “Let’s go and regroup.”
Without waiting for a response, she pushed her way out of the cave, internally groaning as the jungle was only marginally cooler.
Why did Neverland have to be so fucking humid?
“Which way, o mighty tour guide?”
He shot her a bemused glance. “I’d suggest that way, but, Swan…”
“Hmm?”
“You don’t have to be ready to confront them yet,” Killian said softly, his steps slowing to be in time with hers.
She stilled, feeling her walls come rushing back up at the nerve he touched.
“Look, I get that you’re trying to help, but you don’t get it, okay? So, leave me alone.” Emma snapped. Instantly, she felt regret rush through her like a fever, and if her cheeks weren’t already flushed, they were now.
“My apologies,” he offered smoothly, but the softness behind his eyes was gone, replaced by that calculated nothingness that Emma remembered from the days he’d spent shadowing Cora.
They moved silently from then on, discomfort stewing between them like a thick soup.
Emma took the lead, and Killian let her, even though they both knew she didn’t have a single clue where she was going.
He must have sensed that she needed to be in control of the situation.
Damn him for being able to read her so well.
Just as Emma was about to unsheathe her blade and slice away some vines with a little too much force, Killian made a small noise of pain, so quiet that Emma almost missed it.
In a normal circumstance, perhaps she would have ignored it, but she was on heightened alert just in case the Lost Boys reappeared.
He made another quiet sound, and while one might have been a coincidence, two was a warning sign.
Momentarily, Emma had visions of him being shot with the same dart that had poisoned her father, and the thought caught in her throat.
She snapped her head towards Killian, giving him a once over to alleviate her fears.
His features were contorted ever so slightly, and Emma was about to tentatively ask if he was all right (the irony of their reversal of the situation a few moments ago not lost on her) when he let out a sharp gasp and swore loudly.
“Killian? Are you okay?” When he didn’t immediately reply, Emma instinctually reached out to him, her fingertips just falling short.
He didn’t speak, and refused to look at her, closing his eyes and making a vague gesture of dismissal with his hand, but Emma could see it was shaking.
Childishly, not meaning to, she blurted out, “you’re scaring me.”
That got his attention.
Killian’s eyes flitted open, and he managed a small smile, but it was nothing like the flirtatious grin she had grown accustomed to. “I’m sorry, love. It-it’s embarrassing, really, it-I’m used to it, but it’s an old injury it’s been a while since it- hn.”
An old injury?
Emma frowned, the pieces refusing to slot into place. “What?”
“The heat in the cave triggered it, I-I-I think. Bloody hell, s-sorry.”
He was usually so smooth, so put together. Now he was rambling, struggling to formulate a sentence.
An old injury.
Dawning horror. His hand.
Emma didn’t consider herself an expert on amputated limbs, but she had gone down a bit of an internet rabbit hole when she’d looked up Captain Hook when they’d first returned to Storybrooke after meeting him (not that she’d ever admit that to him) and she vaguely remembered the phrase phantom pain cropping up in the answers.
“Oh shit, Killian,” she hissed. “Shit. What can I do? Do you need to take the brace off?”
“No,” he bit out, and Emma didn’t know if it was a genuine refusal or a side effect of his pride, but she didn’t want to push him.
“Okay. Let’s sit down instead, then. Sitting down is always good, right?”
She sank to the ground, and Killian did the same, leaning back against the tree with a strained grunt.
“Are you sure you don’t want to remove the hook?” Emma couldn’t help but check after a few quiet minutes once his breathing had calmed and the muscles in his face had begun to relax.
He shook his head, avoiding her gaze once more. “No, it-the pain’s fading now.”
It hit her then, as his face coloured slightly and he muttered another apology, just how humiliated he must have felt.
A second wave of emotion came over her: anger, not at him for being in pain, but at him for thinking it was something he had to be ashamed of.
“Don’t you dare apologise to me,” Emma said harshly, and then, she did something that shocked them both and pulled him into a hug.
Killian tensed against her embrace, and she heard him say softly, “you don’t need to pity me, Swan.”
“What?” Emma pulled back, stopping when they came face to face, her arms still clutching at his biceps. “I don’t pity you, Killian.”
He raised an eyebrow, and she scoffed.
“I don’t, okay?” Her resolve hardened by his disbelief, she lifted her hand and pulled his mouth to hers by the jaw, kissing him with renewed purpose.
Killian responded instinctually (and fuck, how was he so good at this?), but he moved away before it could get too serious. “Emma—”
“No, just because I don’t-just because I didn’t say anything in the Echo Cave, it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, Killian, I just… right now, I can’t-Henry’s missing, and-and Neal wants ‘closure’, whatever that means, and my parents want me to get back together with him, but I don’t want him, I…” Emma trailed off, suddenly self-conscious.
Killian’s eyes bore into hers, the flirty front he so frequently put on replaced with something gentle, something real: longing, not quite daring to believe but longing all the same.
It was in his expression that she found the courage to finish her sentence. “I want you, okay? I-I just… have shit to sort out, and I’m fucking terrified.”
Killian chuckled lightly, raising a hand to touch her chin. Her confession had melted the tension out of his figure, allowed him to grin at her once more. “I’m a very patient man, Swan.”
Emma laughed with him.
Now that it was all out in the open, it felt like the humidity had finally relinquished a little, and she felt calm for the first time that day.
Fuck patience. The others could wait.
Emma grabbed the back of his head, bringing their mouths together once more.