A/N: Hey all! I've been away from writing for some time now. I'm a little rusty so be gentle with me. Constructive criticism, thoughts and comments are always welcome.

Takes place at the end of 4x03. While the episode still effectively reduced me to a pile of goo, I wish the scene between our fine pirate and Miss Swan had been a little less rushed.

Dialog for the first part is borrowed from the episode. I own nothing; I just like playing with them.

It had been raining for most of the evening, the pavement still wet. Street lights cast their glow downwards illuminating the asphalt. The tables and chairs outside Granny's Diner are still damp. Water droplets cling to them, sparkling as a cool breeze causes the string lights above the patio to sway gently.

Killian takes a seat in a damp chair, unconcerned with the moisture. Long leather coats have their perks. Plus he's never heard of a pirate bothered by a little water.

The air is heavy with lingering moisture from the downpour. He breathes it in. It's not the same scent he became accustomed to during countless nights spent at sea on the Jolly Roger. It's earthier. Like dirt and leaves and something else he can't quite place. Yet still, he finds that it fills him with the same sense of comfort. It smells like home.

He thinks of the Jolly Roger, now far out of his grasp in another realm. She had been his home and his heart for more years than he cares to admit. He still feels the gentle tug of nostalgia when he thinks of her, but finds the wistful desire to re-acquaint himself with life at sea lessens with every day he spends here in Storybrooke. Every day he spends here with Emma and her family. He's beginning to feel like maybe, just maybe, he has found a new place to call home. Someone new to call his heart.

Yet here he sits, alone outside Granny's while Emma sits inside with her family, gathered around a table, likely discussing the town's newest villain.

Swan saved his life again today. Then she had pushed him away. Harsh words and distance filling the void as she walked away from him in the forest. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised. In all fairness he had lied to her and gone against her wishes. He knows how important trust is to her and he can't help but feel that he's lost hers again. Perhaps that's why he's sitting out here alone in the cool dampness that seems to cling eternally to Maine's coastline. He needs to talk to her, but knows that no progress will be made if he confronts her surrounded by others in the diner.

He reclines in the chair, stretching out his legs and crossing his feet at the ankles. He unscrews the cap from his flask and takes a swig. As the rum glides smoothly down his throat, warming him from the inside out, he looks up at the still cloudy sky and resigns himself to wait.

He isn't sure how long has passed, but Charming eventually strolls out of Granny's, phone pressed to his ear, talking about diapers. Regina and Henry follow shortly after. The lad must be staying with her tonight. Perhaps an attempt to lift Regina's spirits after another day stuck in an awkward love triangle. Henry waves, "Night Killian!" he calls as he trails Regina to her car.

"G'night lad!" he replies, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

It's nearly half an hour later when Emma finally storms through the front door of Granny's. She allows it to slam shut behind her, glass rattling, bells clanging together loudly. Her pace is brisk as she walks past him. She doesn't even break stride as he calls out to her.

"Swan! Don't make a man drink alone!" He spreads his arms, devilish grin on his face, flask grasped loosely in his hand.

"I'm not in the mood for a drink," she pauses "or a man." Her voice is terse and though he can't see her face from where he sits, he can clearly imagine the look of irritation clouding her features.

She's already half way to her car so he stands quickly, discarding his flask carelessly on the table, rushing after her. Briefly he wonders if he'll ever tire of chasing after her. He doubts it. He's already followed her through time and many a realm; following her across the street isn't even a choice, his feet carry him without thought.

He finds himself apologizing as he follows her. "Sorry I didn't listen to you today." He calls out.

He thinks back to what Elsa said earlier about the weight of the world and trust. "I know you feel like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders, but at some point..." He jogs to keep up to her, catching her right arm with his hook and spinning her around to face him. "Even though we're quite different, you've gotta trust me." His hook slides down her arm, coming to rest by his side and she finally looks at him.

"That's what you think this is about? She asks. "That I don't trust you?"

Now he's a little confused. "Is that not what it's about?"

"Of course I trust you." She says it emphatically. As if it's something he should already know. She doesn't quite sound angry, just tired and frustrated.

If trust is not the issue, he wonders why then, does she keep running away from him. He knows she told him to be patient, but quite honestly he's getting tired of waiting for something to happen. Frustrated, his voice takes on a darker edge. "Then why do you keep pulling away from me?"

He honestly doesn't expect her to reply so quickly or so bluntly. He expects to have to dig in and fight for an answer.

"Because everyone I've ever been with is dead!" The words rush out of her mouth in one breath.

He blinks, looking at her, really looking at her. They're both quiet for a moment. Only the sound of crickets chirping manages to permeate the silence. How could he not have realized? He's no stranger to loss himself, but to think of everything she's been through, everything she's lost, he can scarcely imagine.

He watches as she takes a deep breath. Seems she has surprised herself as well. He can't help but notice she looks a bit lighter, freer.

She begins to speak again, "Neal, Graham. Even Walsh." She breathes, her voice faltering slightly. "I lost everyone." Another breath. A stutter. "I.. I can't lose you too."

Her eyes are glassy and he knows in that moment he has finally found his heart. His lips curve up in the slightest of smiles. "My love, you don't have to worry about me." Emma swallows and he dips his head almost imperceptibly, making sure her eyes catch his own, willing her to believe him. "If there's one thing I'm good at, it's surviving."

She's just staring at him now and he knows that they need to talk more, but all he can think in this moment is how very much he would like to kiss her.

He steps into her, lips capturing hers, his hand under her jacket, pulling her to him as his hook rests against her hip. One of her hands lands near the middle of his back, while the other fists into the leather at his waist, and suddenly she's kissing him back just as fiercely.

Her hand grabs his lapel, drawing him even closer. She brings his lips more forcefully against her own. He groans and snakes his hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head.

When she wiggles her fingers passed his jacket and under the layers of his clothing to rest against the bare skin of his waist, he growls, low and deep in his chest. His lips still against hers. "Emma." He whispers, his voice gravely. A warning. A promise.

Her other hand joins the first, centering low on his back. Her fingers dip just below the waistband of his pants and she pulls his hips toward hers. He growls again and grasps a handful of her hair, forcing her head back, exposing her throat. Hungrily, his mouth travels down her neck. Killian pauses to suck on her pulse point before nibbling his way along the underside of her jaw to her ear. When he runs his tongue up the side of her neck, Emma shudders against him and groans. The sound goes straight to his groin.

Her hands leave his back and make their way around to his front. One finds its way to his jaw, fingers scratching against his beard as she brings his lips back to hers. Her other hand presses against his breastbone, combing through his chest hair before coming to rest against his heart.

His breath catches as the feel of her palm aligning with his heart fills him with so much love and warmth and contentment that he thinks he might burst. He places a softer kiss against her lips and rests his forehead against hers. Both of his arms come up to wrap around her, encircling her tightly as they both catch their breath. Her hand still rests over his heart and he's certain that she must be able to feel it hammering away.

"Bloody hell, love." He heaves. "If anything in this world or the next is likely to kill me, it's going to be you."

She chuckles softly and turns her face into his neck. He feels her inhale deeply.

She speaks, lips moving against his neck. "Just promise me you'll be careful, okay?" She asks.

He presses a kiss into her hair. He will be careful. He has every intention of staying by her side for as long as possible. Preferably for at least another 50 or 60 years, until they're wrinkled and grey and old age takes them in their sleep. He doesn't say this out loud though. She may have opened up and admitted that she's terrified to lose him, but he'll only push her so much in one night. For now he'll settle with causing a smile to grace her lips.

He tilts her head up, meeting her eyes with a soft smile. "I promise, love." He places a kiss on her forehead and his grin turns mischievous as he meets her eyes again. "In fact my lass, from here on in you may even call me Captain Prudence if it so suits you."

She snorts, her lips curving up into a smile. He grins back, cheeky.

"Now. I should think my first act as Captain Prudence ought to be escorting my fair lass to a safer location. After all, we seem to be standing in the middle of the road, and that my love, is hardly erring on the side of caution." He bows dramatically in front of her and before she has the chance to protest, he tosses her over his shoulder, securing her in place with arm wrapped tightly over the backs of her thighs.

"KILLIAN!" Emma screams, laughing.

She squirms deliciously against his shoulder as her carries her back over to the sidewalk in front of Granny's. He sets her down gently, not relinquishing his grip until he's sure that she is steady on her feet.

She punches him half heartedly in the chest. "And you claim to be a gentleman, huh?" She asks, smiling.

He raises an eyebrow and smirks at her. "Aye. But I also be a pirate."

She punches him again before wrapping her arms around his waist in an impromptu hug. He could definitely get used to this. His arm settles around her. "If you keep punching me darling, I'm afraid I'll have to insist that you tend to my wounds. Perhaps a sponge bath is in order?" He jests.

"Maybe another day, Pirate." She teases. "For now though, I think I'll take that drink. Why don't you grab your flask and we'll go for a walk." She looks up at the sky, chin resting against his chest. "The clouds are clearing."

He grins again; glad she's not sending him packing just yet. It's late and the town is quiet, but the clouds have drifted out over the water and the stars are out.

"Public intoxication, Miss Swan? Hardly sounds befitting of Captain Prudence and his Princess." She releases him and he strolls back over to the table to collect his flask, which somehow managed to land upright even though he hastily discarded it to chase after her.

He can feel Emma watching him and when he returns to her side she places a soft kiss on his lips. "So I'm your princess now, am I?" She questions, full of sass. He tucks the flask into his pocket and offers her his arm.

"Aye, love. You have been for quite some time."