He could not explain how he got here.

But he had noticed. He had noticed that whenever he talked to a certain beautifully legged waitress she would leave with a glare and an eye roll and refuse to look at him. He noticed that she had almost apologized a total of eight times. He noticed that she seemed to know whenever he was close. He noticed that her shoulders slumped the tiniest of bits whenever she thought he had left. He noticed that she had left him in charge of Henry on more than one occasion. He had noticed when he became the first person she talked to in the morning at Granny's and the last person she had talked to at night. He had noticed when she had stopped wearing her trademark jackets (her armor he had teased her on more than one occasion). He had noticed she had stopped wearing her necklace.

He didn't think this noticing business meant anything, until he realized that he noticed things about Emma that no one else did. Things that took Snow or anyone else for that matter (except perhaps Henry) days to realize only took him a matter of minutes, if that.

But Henry didn't notice the way she got up every day before dawn so she could watch the sunrise. Snow didn't notice that Emma drank many more cups of hot chocolate with cinnamon on nights when Regina and Gold were fighting and sheriff duties were weighing her down. Granny didn't notice that Emma had requested as time went on less and less chocolate be put in her hot chocolate on late nights. Ruby didn't notice that Emma was more thrilled than a friend should be that Jefferson and the Cricket were competing for Ruby's affections. Belle didn't notice Emma smuggling books out of the library about pirates without checking them out. But he did.

He never thought he would be here again. Except this time it was different, this time it was more. Because he noticed and she did not.

Emma didn't notice that after docking in Storybrooke he didn't seek out Gold, he sought out her. She didn't notice that he had stopped calling her 'Swan' long ago. She didn't notice that he had not stolen anything since arriving. She didn't notice that he would occasionally affectionately call her his bean. She didn't notice that he sat with her every night after she got back from finding Bae, whether it be in silence or him holding her as she cried, he was there. She didn't notice that he had kept his promise and not told anyone about Neal, fucking Neal, and how he had not killed Neal as he had wanted to. She did not notice that he never pressed her for physical intimacy in their relationship. She did not noticed that she worked a tough night that he left her hot chocolate with cinnamon on the table and took Henry to school. She never noticed that he took the time and effort no matter how painful and difficult it was to make amends with the people in the town and be nice to them. She did not notice how hard he labored to be on stable terms with her parents. She did not notice that he spent no more than five minuets company in any other woman's company. She did not know that hearing her call him Killian froze his brain but started his body.

And yet here he was again. It hurt so much more. When Regina plunged her hand deep into Emma's chest, no doubt in search of her heart. He felt his own heart stop and squeeze with the pain he knew she must be experiencing, except it was redoubled tenfold. His joints tensed as if for impact, his legs locked like a rusty sword in an old scabbard. His stomach dropped like a cannonball from fumbling fingers of an inexperienced sailor. He felt a mind numbing slowness that permeated his entire body making him unable to act. He could not see for the tears were scalding and blinding, all he could see was a blurry blond blob that used to be his love, his Emma, his bean, his savior. The world was silent. The warm wave of air crashed against him, sending him to his knees, breaking his will to watch anymore. He could not reach her, he could not hold her one last time, as her heart was crushed, all because of the evil queen's magic held him firmly away from her.

He was nothing once more. He had lost his great love, his only true love. Milah was wonderful and amazing and unique but she was not Emma. He was a broken man once again. With nothing to love for, no one to live for.

He heard footsteps approaching and bowed his head even lower. Not to hide the tears but to not have the last image on his mind be the queen, but Emma. With her golden waves that never settled into the same position twice. Her lean built frame that could outrun almost anyone in town. Her eyes, how he'd miss gazing into her eyes. The footsteps stopped right in front of him.

"Killian", she spoke softly.

It couldn't be her. She was dead. But then maybe he had died too. That was what that warm blast was, it was death coming to meet him, death was more pleasant than he expected. He didn't feel any different. If he was with Emma then death could be a very worthwhile happening.

The figure knelt down and lifted his face. He still could not see. He felt the being wipe away his tears. It was her. She was not dead. It was not possible.

"Killian", she told him gently, "No one can forcefully take my heart from me. It belongs to you."
She gently cradled his head in her hands as she gently kissed his lips. He felt a warmth race throughout his entire body. Neither one of them was dead, although they both were crying tears of joy.

She noticed.