Hi! This is the first fanfiction I've ever written, so reviews of any kind are extremely helpful :) Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer - I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters.

Killian

Killian stood at the window, peering into the dim tavern. The stenches of trash and vomit permeated the alley, but he hardly noticed them. He knew he should leave, just knew it, but…he couldn't. His eyes followed the slim figure of the young woman as she sauntered across the floor, long blonde hair flowing behind her.

He watched as Emma drew the attention of every man in the bloody place – including his own. It physically pained him to know that his past self was in there, and it ripped him apart even more to know that he couldn't be the one in there with her. The version of himself that was waiting in that bar was nothing like the man he wanted Emma to know.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous. Her last words to him echoed through his mind. He realized that what she spoke was partially true. Certainly, he was jealous of Hook for being with Emma. Beneath that, though, he was upset and ashamed by his past. He was frightened by what Emma would discover about him throughout the night, and terrified of how she might treat him once it was over.

His past – the things he had stolen, the girls he had used, the people he had killed, and the people who were dead because of him – continued to haunt him. He couldn't let go of his demons, and it would only make it worse to know that Emma had seen him as he used to be. Killian had hoped and prayed that he would be able to redeem himself in her eyes and be seen as a man instead of a monster. He had changed, that much was certain. But…he knew that he hadn't changed enough to make up for the flaws in his past self, the flaws that Emma would soon be experiencing for herself.

Killian saw Emma approach Hook, bending over the table and leaning in close to his face. He noticed his past self lean in a little closer, smirking up at her and raising an eyebrow, enchanted. The old Hook stood up, and led Emma away to the back of the tavern by the hand, brushing his body up against hers.

Killian's fist clenched at his side. He was thoroughly ashamed at the man he had been. He knew that things between him and Emma would never be the same again, not now that she had seen who he used to be, the man he was afraid he might someday become again.

Hook began pouring Emma a drink. His lips were moving with words of endearment; if it wasn't clear from the look on his face that he was trying to seduce Emma, his fingertips brushing her leg under the table was certainly proof enough for Killian.

He had to leave. He had to find Snow. If he didn't, well…it wouldn't end well for either of them. But he couldn't bring himself to go, not when his past self was working so hard to seduce the woman he cared about, not when she was flirting right back.

Killian had dreamed about this far more than he would ever admit to. Emma smiling up at him, casual touches between the two of them, another kiss like the one they'd shared in Neverland. Anything she was willing to give him, he was desperate to have.

But now, looking at her sitting next to his past self, the cruel reality hit him. He watched himself interact with Emma as if through a mirror. The Hook in there was doing all of those things that Killian had wanted to do with Emma, but Hook couldn't appreciate what he had right in front of him (and not only because of the rum Emma kept pouring down his throat). Looking at himself with Emma, it was all too easy to imagine a future for himself with her, and all too painful of a reminder to know that he wasn't the one in there laughing and smiling with her. He was out here, in the cold rain, not allowed to come close to the woman he loved. And Hook…Hook was in there, with Emma, caressing her beautiful cheek and making her laugh, not truly appreciating what he had in front of him.

Killian wandered away, finally, down to the docks.

The entire time, images of his Swan with this other version of himself plagued his mind. He could see himself holding her, kissing her, touching her, but unlike his other fantasies, he was merely an observer of the embrace, not the one enacting it.

The firm weight of jealousy settled over him as he reached his ship. Why did it have to be like this? He had followed Emma to the ends of the earth, to the ends of time, and he still couldn't call her his own. In his past, he had used women to relieve his own pain at the loss of his Milah, but there was only one woman who mattered to him.

And right now, she was with another man.