A/N: This is it, everyone! Last chapter. Thank you so much for reading.

Emma watches as Killian slowly pulls himself back together.

She didn't think it was possible to be any prouder of him. He keeps proving her wrong.

She helps as best she can, and it doesn't escape her notice that he finally lets her. He doesn't hide his nightmares anymore, curling away from her silently or slipping from the bed to suffer in silence downstairs. He reaches for her instead, allowing her to draw him tightly into her arms. Sometimes she holds him until his heartbeat slows and he's able to drift off once again; others his lips will find hers and he'll drown in her touch, passion pushing away the nightmares as they find solace in a tangle of limbs and sweat, interlocked fingers and mingling breaths.

She almost always accompanies him when he goes sailing now. She doesn't tell him he's being cautious or push him to go out by himself, not after he explained what happened to him that day (he knows there's a phrase for it now, that panic attacks are a thing and he's trying to come to terms with the fact that it doesn't make him weak). He's always at his best out on the water anyway, and she adores watching him work, light and free and easy as the wind whips through his hair and he squints against the sun.

He puts himself on a schedule, too, to keep himself up and moving and engaged - some days patrolling with Emma, some at the library, some at the docks, and even the occasional friendly swordfight with David in the park (an event that draws a bigger and bigger and crowd each time it happens; the betting pool is getting a little out of hand).

Best of all are the date nights, though. Sometimes it's Chinese takeout and Netflix and others it's pretty dresses and fancy restaurants. Emma's favorites are the moonlit sojourns on the Jolly; it's where he's the happiest, and at this point in her life nothing makes her happier than seeing himhappy. Her heart aches knowing that he finally gets to have this, at how much he deserves it, at how hard he's worked to finally enjoy it - and she gets to share it with him.

Emma watches as the light in his eyes gradually shines brighter with each passing day, never more so than when he's looking at her. She hopes he sees the same when she looks back.

He catches her off-guard one evening when they're heading out for dinner, pausing by the door after she's put on her jacket and raising an eyebrow at her in question.

"What's that look for?"

"Aren't you forgetting something, Swan?"

She tilts her head in confusion, and he rolls his eyes, amused, before lifting his scarf, unworn since they broke the tether, off the little hook by the door.

He hands it to her, an expectant look on his face, and she can't stop her own grin from breaking out as she drapes it over his shoulders, tugging him in gently as she knots it together.

It had always just been a quick peck before, but his lips are insistent and soft against hers and his hand slides to the small of her back as he pulls her in, drawing it out as he presses in closer, a slow heat coiling at the base of her spine as he leisurely explores her mouth.

She finds her arms draped over his shoulders when he finally pulls away only to come back for another lazy kiss, the low hum in this throat vibrating down the tips of her toes.

"Not that I'm complaining," she tells him as he smirks against her lips, "but if you want me to kiss you, all you have to do is ask."

"Noted," he tells her with a wink, pressing one last kiss to the corner of her mouth before reaching for the door.

The scarf doesn't really go with the leather jacket, but neither of them care.

They fall into a comfortable rhythm as the months drift by, patrols and grilled cheese sandwiches, sailing and swordfighting lessons, falling asleep on the couch with open books in their laps. It's as if the universe has granted them a reprieve from the chaos of Storybrooke, nothing more than the occasional bar fight or teenage delinquent to deal with, and for the first time in Emma's (and, she knows, Killian's) life she's approaching something resembling settled.

It's a strange feeling.

She loves it.

She loves working with Killian a few days a week, loves that he comes with her to Henry's track meets and cheers louder than anyone, loves that he and her father are really and truly friends now, loves the looks he exchanges with her when her mother forces Tupperware'd leftovers and frozen casseroles on them whenever they leave family dinners.

(They both secretly appreciate it, neither of them being much good in the kitchen.)

She's pretty sure he loves it, too. She's never seen him smile so much.

It's a clear, cloudless night on the Jolly out on the open sea. There's not much light pollution in Storybrooke, but it still takes Emma's breath away to see how much brighter the stars are out on the water.

She'd never been able to see the Milky Way in the night sky until Killian took her out here. It's not visible tonight, not with a nearly-full moon bright enough to read a book by, but a moonlit Killian Jones steering his ship is a stunning view all the same.

This wasn't their original plan for the evening. They'd fully intended on a romantic dinner at the same Italian restaurant they'd gone to for their first date, but they'd hardly stepped out the front door when an unseasonably warm spring breeze swirled around them, ruffling his hair and fluttering the pale blue skirt of her dress.

One raised eyebrow and an answering smile later and they were heading towards the docks without even bothering to change, grabbing takeout on the way.

She's long since kicked off her shoes, leaning against the mast while she watches him steer. He's shed his jacket, shirtsleeves rolled up and vest unbuttoned, and he throws her a smirk when he realizes she's staring at him.

"Where are we headed, Captain?"

He shrugs. "East. Just until there's nothing on the horizon around us but sea."

Emma glances back to the coast they've left behind, the faraway lights there growing fainter by the minute. "Almost there."

"Aye, almost."

She makes her way to the railing, leaning on her elbows and breathing in the salt air, and when she looks up it's easy to understand why Killian loves the ocean so much. The moon on the waves creates an endless sea of flickering lights, almost as stunning as the sky above her, and the world feels too big, like her heart is trying to swell large enough to fill it. It's calming and exhilarating all at once, and she feels light enough that the breeze might lift her away.

A light shiver runs through her as the wind picks up, the temperature dropping more than she anticipated when she first left the house that evening. She's about to go searching for Killian's jacket when she hears him approach behind her, humming when his hand rubs up and down her upper arm as he steps in close.

The heat of him radiates into her back as he slides his arms around her front, his breath hot on her neck. "Shall I keep you warm, then?"

She grins, his words causing her to shiver rather than the weather. "This is good." She leans into him, sliding her hand over his and basking in the warmth of his skin against hers, closing her eyes on a contented sigh.

"What's on your mind, love?" His voice is so soft, his breath tickling at her skin.

"Mmm, nothing. I'm just happy."

She can feel his smile against her cheek, a low chuckle in her ear. "So am I." His arms tighten around her and they don't speak for a long while, enjoying the view and the endless sky and the simple pleasure of being wrapped around one another.

"...Emma?"

"Hm?"

He doesn't respond at first, but his arms release their hold, hand and hook settling at her hip before gently turning her in his arms. The moon casts shadows across his face but his eyes are bright, a beatific smile on his face as he leans in. He doesn't kiss her like she expects, though, stopping just short as his the tip of his nose drifts over her cheek.

"Marry me."

Two simple words, soft against her skin and disappearing into the ocean air.

She leans back just enough to look in his eyes, mouth falling open and that was the absolute last thing she expected him to say, she expected him to kiss her, to tell her he loves her, to smirk and flirt and pull her in tight, not stand there with a hopeful smile and love in his eyes and not a hint of hesitation or doubt and -

"Yes."

It's the easiest question she's ever answered.

It's his turn to be stunned, eyes widening as though he didn't expect her to answer so quickly, and his smile shifts from disbelieving to joyful and back again. "Yeah?"

Emma's pretty sure her smile matches his own. "Yeah."

He does kiss her then, almost awkwardly at first because their grins get in the way but it's perfect, and she's on her tiptoes and his hand is sliding into her hair and they calm down enough to kiss properly, slow and loving until their grins force them to part once more.

"I don't have a ring," he admits with a laugh as they sway together, too much space between them even though they're only an inch apart.

"Are you seriously telling me this wasn't planned? Your ship, the stars, the -"

He's almost exasperated with himself as he shakes his head. "Bloody hell, no," and then they're both laughing. "I'd been thinking about it. I had plans, and I just…"

"Just what?"

His face softens. "I just couldn't go another minute without asking you."

She's blinking back tears when he kisses her again, her hand finding its way to his heart as he leans into her, long and deep and slow, his hand at her jaw tilting her head just so, his mouth soft and hot against hers.

"What were your plans?" she whispers against his lips.

"Acquiring a ring, for one. And - " he groans, pressing his forehead to hers. "Henry. Gods above, I'd meant to speak to your boy first."

"Hey," she says, taking his face in her hands. "We can talk to Henry together. And I already have a ring."

He pulls back, realization washing over his features as he looks down at the chain around her neck, the only piece of jewelry she wears these days. She reaches up and unlinks the clasp, sliding Liam's ring from the chain and holding it in her palm, offering it to him. "Would you mind?"

"Emma, are you - "

"Of course I'm sure."

He smiles as he takes the ring from her, the curve of his hook reaching under her left palm and lifting it as he gently slides the ring onto her fourth finger. He can't take his eyes off it, the stone catching the moonlight as he brushes his thumb over her fingers, whisper-soft, finally bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

A delighted laugh bubbles out of her, because of course he would kiss her hand like a knight courting a princess, like the fairy tale character he is, and he raises an eyebrow at her reaction.

"Did I do something funny, love?"

"No," she assures him, lacing her fingers with his. "This is perfect."

"Aye," he agrees, pulling her close once more as her heart threatens to burst. "It is."

Emma thought she'd have to fight with her mother to keep the wedding from spiraling into some embarrassing grand royal affair, but it was… surprisingly easy. She and Killian were prepared to beg to make it happen, but once the words small and simple were spoken, she smiled in understanding ("anything you want, honey").

(It hasn't stopped her from forming the world's most elaborate, meticulously-organized Pinterest account specifically for their big day, but if that's what keeps her happy, who is Emma to complain?)

She completely refuses a bridal shower - who needs gifts when she and Killian are already settled in their home anyway? - and manages to circumvent the need for bridesmaid's dresses by not having a wedding party at all. Her mother as Matron of Honor is plenty, her father can walk her down the aisle, and Henry -

- well, Henry seemed pretty thrilled when he was asked to be Best Man.

She doesn't even have to bother with shoes, considering they're being married on the beach (Killian's eyes had lit up when she suggested it; he pretended to tease her about knowing he'd want a ceremony with his "two great loves, you and sea," but the softness in his voice gave him away). His only request is that she wear flowers in her hair.

And so with three weeks to the big day, there's almost nothing left to be done.

Almost.

She comes home a bit later than usual one evening, and for the first time since he proposed she feels a bit of anxiety settling into her as she closes the door behind her. Killian meets her in the hall as usual, a quick kiss to her lips before taking her coat (he really is always a gentleman).

"Long day?" he asks as he hangs up her jacket.

"No, the usual. I just had an errand to run on the way home. Is Henry - ?"

"At his friend's for the night, remember?"

"Just making sure. C'mere, I've got something to show you." She holds up a small shopping bag and leads him to the couch.

"What's this, then?" he asks as they settle next to each other, and his question is answered when she reaches into the bag and produces two small, black velvet boxes. "They came in?"

"Yep." Emma opens them both, and for a moment they just sit and admire. They're nothing particularly fancy, both in burnished silver, hers a simple band that matches Liam's ring and his slightly thicker with a small red stone in the center, a less-gaudy version of his current jewelry. They'd looked at others, gold and platinum and diamonds, but somehow they all felt wrong. "Wanna try yours on?"

He looks surprised. "Is there a need?" They'd agreed to wear their rings around their necks, the simple chains already chosen and sitting neatly in a box on their dresser. She hadn't missed the look in his eyes when they'd discussed it - she forgets, sometimes, about him not having a left hand, with him being so confident and capable most of the time.

She nudges his shoulder, taking his hand in hers and removing the ring currently on his fourth finger. "Humor me?"

"As you wish." The words always come with a grin now that he's seen the movie.

She takes her time sliding the ring over his finger, caressing his palm once she's done. "Looks good."

She can't stop staring it, her thoughts drifting as her fingers gently trace his.

He turns his hand over to grip hers. "What's the matter, love?"

Of course he noticed. Open book.

"It's nothing," she says quietly.

"It's not nothing." He leans in, his nose caressing her cheek. "Tell me."

She sighs, reaching to the coffee table to pick up her own ring, turning it over in her hands before sliding it over her finger, flush with Liam's ring and a perfect fit. "I, um… I had a plan. It was supposed to be a wedding present for you."

"You know I don't need any - "

"It was an enchantment," she interrupts, plowing through before she loses her nerve. "On our rings, something for when we both wore them. I read through so many books to try and find one," she laughs, unable to look at him. "And I found it. It wouldn't be exactly like the tether, we wouldn't share physical feelings. Just emotions."

She doesn't miss his quick intake of breath.

"And it would have been a surprise, right? We both try on our rings and the connection's suddenly there again, and we - I dunno, I just wanted…"

"Emma." His hand covers both of hers, warm and soft and she's suddenly able to be still, to relax under his touch.

"I couldn't do it," she admits, finally meeting his eyes.

His hand tightens over hers and his mouth drops open, but no words form.

"I just… I still feel guilty about it. Making the tether in the first place and then having to take it away, and I wanted to give a little piece of it back to you, you know? And I wanted it too." She shrugs and shakes her head. "But I picked up the rings today and I was going to do the enchantment, and - Killian, what the hell is wrong with me?"

"What? I don't - Emma, I don't understand."

"We figured out how to be happy without the tether. We don't need it. And here I am looking to bring something like it back into our lives without even asking you first."

Understanding comes over his features then, his eyes softening, but it does little to calm her down.

"It nearly broke you last time. I know it's been hard for you, God, you've been through so much shit , and I'm so proud of you, Killian, but I don't know if you want this. I can do it, I know how, but I just..."

His face is nearly unreadable, and Emma has no idea if she's digging her own grave, but she continues anyway.

"Just… tell me. What do you want?"

He looks at her for a long, considering moment, his hand leaving hers and settling at her cheek, fingers a light caress on her skin.

"I've told you before." His lips turn up, his smile a near thing but not quite complete, as though he's too overwhelmed to get there. "It's you, Emma. No tether. No enchantments. Just you."

She can't do anything but kiss him then, lean in and savor the taste of him on her lips as she straddles his lap, pressing close and letting his warmth overwhelm her as his tongue curls around hers, his hand gentle at her hip and the tip of his hook lightly tracing over her thigh.

"I love you," she breathes into his mouth, something she tells him every day but it's suddenly more like this.

"And I you." His words are nearly lost against her skin and she's on fire with the way his hand can't keep still at her back, his hips pressing up into hers and his mouth nipping and teasing at her lips.

"Upstairs?" she asks, the word rising in pitch at the end as he rolls his hips into hers, an enticing bit of friction that blooms heat between her thighs.

"No, I want you right here," he murmurs against her throat and she shivers against him at the way his words vibrate through her, feeling him grow hard and heavy underneath her

She leans back when he lifts the hem of her shirt, raising her arms as he slowly peels the garment away. He looks overwhelmed now for a different reason, and she'll never get over the way he looks at her as they slowly undress each other, heat and lust and devotion in his gaze as he maps every inch of her skin as it's revealed to him, fingertips and tongue and the point of his hook dragging across her flesh as they strip each other bare.

She's back in his lap as they shed the last of their clothing, hook and brace tossed aside as she settles across his thighs, him dipping his head to nuzzle at her collarbone and bringing his teeth into the equation when she pushes forward, trapping his cock between them.

"You're such a bloody tease," he groans when she rolls her hips upward.

She chuckles, reaching up and tugging gently at his hair, forcing him to look up at her. "Like this?" she asks, rising up on her thighs and rocking her hips into him, dragging her clit over his cock.

His gasp is choked-out and he can't help but laugh. "Just like that," he agrees, rocking his hips up and they find a slow, tantalizing rhythm against each other, him dragging hot and heavy over the most sensitive part of her, warm and slick as they watch each other, faces close but not quite touching, sharing the same air.

She could come like this, she thinks, the hot slide of him against her hitting her just right on every stroke, but she wants him inside her, wants to watch him fall apart underneath her. She rises up on her knees, reaching down to guide him to her.

His eyes flutter closed as she sinks down, a broken moan escaping his lips as his hand tightens at her hip, his ring pressing into her skin. "So good, Emma," he sighs, opening his eyes as she slides down that final inch, her full weight on him as he surges up, his mouth slanting over hers.

She moans against his lips when he reaches between them, his thumb caressing and stroking over her clit as they rock their hips together, not quite thrusting but a lazy roll of their bodies as her pleasure builds, filled to the hilt while his clever fingers pull her nerves taut, every delicious sensation settling at the place where their bodies are joined and radiating outward.

"Do you really need more than this, love?" he groans into her skin, hot and low, and her hips stutter at his words. "Do you need magic to make this better? To make it more ?" He thrusts up hard on the last word.

"No," she gasps, her hand tightening in his hair as she lifts her hips and sinks down, again and again as he rises up to meet her. "Just this, God, I love you, don't stop - "

He doesn't, driving into her with sure, steady strokes that drag deliciously at her insides while his hand works her up, rolling and teasing and she can't help but clench around him. He groans at the sensation but doesn't stop, watching her with dark eyes as he brings her up, up, pressing in and in and in until she falls.

She can't move as the hot rush ripples through her but he works her through it, drawing it out with slick thrusts while she flutters around him, and she knows he's close when his rhythm shortens, becoming hotter and quicker and she does her best to meet him halfway, to roll her hips down as he pushes up, his moans coming higher and faster as he chases her over that cliff.

His head drops back as he comes, his features going gorgeously slack as he pulses inside of her. She collapses against him, lips pressed to his throat and fingers combing through his hair as he comes down, their hearts hammering in their chests.

He smiles lazily when he lifts his head, his hand warm against her back as they press their foreheads together. "You were right, Emma."

"Hmm?"

"We don't need it." His lips are soft against hers as he reaches for her hand, lacing their fingers together, the silver of their rings glinting in the light. "We've never needed it."

Her smile is soft against his and there really is something to it, the simple, effortless love in his eyes and his hand in hers. She doesn't need magic to know it, or to feel it, the press of his skin and the lightness in her heart strong and steadfast and real.

On the day of their wedding they forego the necklaces, choosing instead to wear their rings on their right hands.

No tether. No enchantments. Just them.