"You have to come home."

She hated the words, she hated having to say them, and she absolutely hated the way her voice trembled on the last word, the conviction in her tone laced with nothing but fear. How could it be a choice? Her heart cried."You–we–have a life in Storybrooke." Suddenly the word future was unspeakable.

"Why bring me back, when I can just move on?"

She wants to run. The muscles in her legs twitch and pull and scream to get her out of there. She wants to look away but she can't. She wants to forget this very moment; the way his eyes hold tears back while his lips speak nothing but honest truth. Even if she had something to say, she wasn't sure she'd be able to utter it.

She glances at Liam standing a step behind him, hating the anger she felt being directed at him. He stares back at her, his love for his brother clear in his eyes but his shoulders were rooted in their unmoving, protective stance.

Killian isn't looking at her when she turns back to him. He looks the same as when he told her he no longer loved her on that day on his ship and her heart begins to crack. He's ashamed, worried at the damage he just caused. But Killian does not speak a word he does not mean. It used to be one of the things she loved most about him.

"Killian," she grabs his attention back to her, his hard eyes lifting from their focus on the ground to look at her. What she sees shocks her; it is her own reflection, the look in his eyes the same one he saw in hers when they first met, the one that connected their very souls. Lost. She sees a very different Killian standing before her and suddenly their future is no longer the answer; it is a question. A choice.

She fingers his ring still in her pocket, seeking what she feels to be the last of its strength. "I love you," she tells him and her heart clenches when she hears his small intake of breath, like he couldn't fathom why she would express such a thing after what he just said. Her eyes close of their own volition because she knows the reason he's doing this. He still can't quite believe she loves him enough to risk everything, to trudge down to the gates of Hell to save him. And maybe more aptly, that he would deserve such a thing.

A tear escapes and falls down her cheek when her eyes reopen. "Just…remember that."

And then she's running.

Of all the times he watched Emma Swan run away, none put more pain in his heart than this one. He watched the love of his life race through the trees until the darkness of night swallowed her up, not from herself this time, but from him.

"Brother–"

His eyes didn't leave the spot where her image had disappeared, but he raised his hand towards Liam. "I'd like to be alone, Liam," he tells him before walking in the opposite direction of Emma, towards his place of peace.

It was some hours later when he heard footsteps approach. He whipped his head to see behind him and his shoulders fell, unable to mask the disappointment he felt when it wasn't her.

"Hello, Captain," Regina greeted. Her lips formed a grim line, but not unkind.

He nodded at her, wondering why she of all people had sought him out. She took a seat beside him on the bench, following his gaze locked on the dark waves.

"How is she?" He asks, barely above a whisper.

"Upset," she says honestly. The word hung heavy in the air between them.

He leaned his elbow on his knee, running his hand through his hair. He imagined she told everyone–at least Regina, clearly–and his stomach twisted thinking about how the thought alone was enough to make their journey down here almost null. He didn't know what to say, or if he had anything to say. His time staring at the sea gave no solace this time; his head was just as muddled as when he got there. Regina took his silence as her opportunity to speak.

"From one reformed villain to another, I understand why you are considering this."

His head lifted from his hand to look at her in question. "You do?"

She looked down, twisting her fingers together in her lap. She nodded before she spoke, looking back up at him. "Aside from being with your brother, part of you thinks you don't deserve it."

He swallows tightly, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably at her directness. "I didn't ask any of you to come down here, to risk your lives for me," he utters, almost angrily.

"You didn't have to," is all she says. He had no response to that.

"Killian," she continued, her use of his given name still strange to hear. "Everyone deserves people who will fight for them. Except perhaps Gold." He scoffs bitterly at the understatement. She catches his gaze before saying, "Nothing you've done, nor does your past, change us being those people for you."

He's staring at her in disbelief, his lips becoming chapped in the frigid air as they remain parted for a good minute. His jaw clenches and he voices the question that had been rummaging through his mind since he learned of it. "Would splitting her heart have worked?"

If his change in topic surprised her, she didn't show it. "I believe it would have," she answers. Her head tilts, deducing his reason for questioning it. "Emma isn't the same woman she was when my mother tried to take her heart, and that's because of you."

He heard her meaning without her having to say it. She believed their love was True, something he'd thought from the beginning if he allowed himself to. He smiles sadly, almost dismissively. After all, he felt like the changed one. He dug the tip of his boot into the ground as he thought. He had to acknowledge the difference he'd seen in his Swan; a woman so guarded and lost more than he was, having been wounded by life and love. His smile turned heartfelt, his still heart surging with pride as he thought of every touch, every kiss, that led to him feeling the shift, the point in her life when she finally opened her heart to him.

"You've had a long life, Captain." He turns in surprise to feel her hand on his shoulder. "You deserve peace, whichever way you feel is right, so whatever your decision is–don't do it for Emma, do it for you. That's what she would want."

Having (literally) his life turn into a question, a decision, a choice, suddenly made his stomach churn. He couldn't fathom how or when his future had become such a mystery.

He felt her hand leave his body before she stood up, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat.

"Thank you," he tells her sincerely. Though he had no clearer idea of what to do, she reminded him of what hung in the balance.

She nodded. "Go to her. Don't spend your night alone, especially if it's your last.

It was the first time it was mentioned as an absolute and he felt the lump rise higher in his throat. "I don't think she wants to see me," he mumbles dejectedly.

She ignores him, stopping to turn back around only to throw back, "She's at the house. Door's unlocked."

He hesitated in the entryway of the house, his eyes scanning through the dark at the depiction of Emma's unlived childhood, the toys hauntedly highlighted by the light of the moon.

Was their future to remain down here as well, should he choose to leave?

The whole walk here he thought about the concept of a goodbye and had nearly collapsed on the street at the thought of uttering that heartbreaking word to her. How could he say goodbye to her?

He pushed his thoughts aside and climbed the stairs, feeling the tug of her, their love, pull him to the right door. It wasn't closed all the way, the sliver of black beckoning him to push it open, but just outside of it, he stopped and pressed his ear to the crack, anticipating the sound his heart broke for. When no cries or sobs could be heard, he sighed slightly, hoping she had finally found rest.

He pushes the door open more and he immediately spots her form curled under the covers, her back towards him. Automatically he relaxes, if only just because she was safe.

Unharmed, though; that was a different story.

He thought about sliding into bed with her but changed his mind and softly padded over to her side, aching to see her face.

When he got to her, his knees found the floor as he took in her appearance. Her nose was red, her swollen and puffy eyes matching its color, and her cheeks were still wet, tracks of tears staining the skin. He immediately brought his hand up to move a strand of hair away from her face, holding back a sob he felt clogged in his throat.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered to her sleeping form. He felt his tears finally escape and he curled his arm inward on top of the bed and shoved his face into it to muffle his cries.

A warm hand found his a moment later. His head popped up to find hers watching him. She was sitting up on her elbow, her hand now clutching his so tightly it almost hurt. Her cheeks reddened as fresh tears began to fall. Neither said anything until he took a broken breath and his head fell under the force of the sobs beginning to release. Distantly he heard rustling and then there was a thunk as her knees hit the wood beneath them and her arms wrapped around him. He fell into her embrace with no hesitation, his nose smashing into the crook of her neck when she pressed a hand to the back of his head.

"Please don't cry," she blubbered into his temple, kissing his hair as she did so. Her plea only allowed the tears to flow more freely, his arms holding her impossibly closer when her own body started to shake.

"Emma, tell me what to do. Please," he begged, his breaths in short pants now.

"I can't," she whispered, the words the most defeating sound he had ever heard.

Silence fell upon them, their only movement being to shift off their knees and lean against the side of the bed, shoulders and knees touching. He didn't know how long they sat there; staring at nothing, feeling everything.

After he couldn't take it any longer, he bumped his knee playfully against hers, earning a small smile from her. Whatever spell was broken as she wordlessly, leaned her head on his shoulder.

"You're a brave woman, Emma," he says softly after another minute passed. He can tell the statement surprises her when her eyes remain locked on a speck in the air before jumping to her hands clasped in her lap.

"I don't feel like it right now," she admits.

He unclenches her right hand with his own and holds it between them, brushing his thumb over her soft skin. "I'm so sorry if I made you feel like I'm not grateful to you–to everyone. I have no words for–"

"Killian, I need to say something," she interrupted. She avoided his gaze, which told him she was nervous about whatever she was about to reveal. He squeezed her hand in encouragement. "I'm sorry for taking away your choice in Camelot, for turning you into…"

"Emma–"

"Let me finish," she said, giving him a sad smile, finally looking at him. "I don't regret it, but I am sorry for what it created and how it led to you being here, if that makes any sense. It was selfish." She says it calmly, but her eyes tell him she had been carrying this weight ever since. His heart ached for not having not been there to sooth her.

He removed his hand from hers to lift her chin with his finger. "Emma, I could never blame you for not wanting to lose me." He caressed her face with his knuckles, watching her eyes flick back and forth at him. When the weight of his words finally hit him, he dropped his hand and turned away from her.

"Hey," she called gently. She pulled his face back to hers so that their foreheads touched, her fingers scratching at the scruff on his jaw. They gazed at each other, lost in their own worlds until she speaks again. "I suspect you think I came to get you because I didn't want to lose another person I love, and there's truth in that, but I need you to know, need you to understand, that I came here for you." Her eyes found his then and he felt the prick of tears at the corners when he saw her sincerity, her honesty, and above all, her love. His breath swept out of him as her next words flew out in one big plunge. "No one understands me the way that you do. I don't think anybody else could. We were both just…lost kids who wanted a home, a family, someone to love us–and I'll always have my family, and Henry, and that is enough to a point, but I don't want that point to be final. I want you. I want us. I want the future both of us never thought we'd have, and I want it with you." She stops, taking a breath as she cups both of his cheeks with her hands. "There is no one else."

There's a beat and then he's kissing her, showing her what words will forever fail to express. His hand cups her neck and tilts her head back as he deepens it, his tongue colliding with hers in a dance only they know. She moans and it sends shivers down his spine, reminding him of times shared, the quiet moments that will reside forever in his heart, but overwhelmingly it reminds him of the times lost, and the times they may be about to lose.

She pulls back first, resting her hands on his shoulders as they both try to catch their breath. Minutes pass with only the sound of their soft pants surrounding them. His brow furrows when he catches her expression change and before he knows it, her eyes close and she's reaching beneath the soft T-shirt she's wearing to pull out his ring, still hanging on the chain, still around her neck. When her eyes open they're glistening with impending tears and the crack in her voice nearly kills him a second time over.

"I just don't want you to think that you don't deserve it; a future, a life, me." Her breath catches and the tears begin to slide down her cheeks. She's holding the ring and its chain in her palm and his gaze shifts frantically between it and her. "I want to thank you for loving me so truly and completely and I am so sorry for how long it took me to catch up but know that I love you just as much." She has to stop to gain back a breath, sniffling harshly before locking her eyes with his. "Your happiness means everything to me, so if moving on is what you want…," she tries desperately to get through the thought but he sees it–the hurt, the fear, the pain, and he's crying with her. He can't move, he can't speak. She stutters through her next breath. "Then I will let you go." She's shaking her head as she whispers, "I don't want you to stay for me, Killian."

His mouth gapes, his jaw stuck in the position as she brings his hand up to her other one holding the ring. He's already shaking his head and pushing her hand away but she remains stern and grips his wrist and dumps the metal into his palm, forcing his fingers over it.

"No," he finally gasps, feeling his hot tears hit his chest. "Don't do this." His voice is lower than a whisper.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be, please," she pleas. "You need to go. Otherwise I can't, I won't be able to–"

"Emma, don't shut me out, not now, not like this!" He can't keep the hurt from filling his tone, lacing it with anger and devastation.

"I'm not. I'm letting you go," she cries, and when he suddenly finds himself on the front porch, the soft smoke already fading, he falls to his knees, clutching the ring to his shattered heart as the sobs rack his body until his voice is lost.