A/N: I hope you enjoy this one. It's the beginning of the second part of this fic, which will consist of the next seven or eight chapters. This is the calm before the storm, but as you can see ... it's not all going to stay pretty for long. It's definitely rated M, so you know, if you don't want to read that sort of thing ... don't? Otherwise ... enjoy. And I hope you're ready for a bumpy ride.

Eight
A Seal Upon My Heart ...

Don't entreat me to leave you, and to return from following after you, for where you go, I will go; and where you lodge, I will lodge.

Ruth 1:16

"You said we could trust him."

The door to Cora Mills' office had scarcely shut behind the whirlpool of fire and anger that was Regina, before the words had left her daughter's mouth. "You said he owed you, that there was no way he could refuse to help, that there was no way he could work against us." Regina crossed the room purposefully, all but slamming the manila envelope down on the desk in front of her mother, her mouth a thin, angry line, her eyes snapping darkly. "This does not look like help to me, Mother."

Cora didn't say anything, choosing instead to pick up the envelope and open it, slowly perusing its contents. She could tell that Regina was getting more and more agitated by the second, but her daughter's ire would just have to wait as she tried to piece together what it was she was seeing now.

"How long have you had this?" she finally said, raising her head to look at Regina then, as though she thought Regina had been holding onto the papers for some time now. It wasn't a forgery, of that she was certain, but what she was seeing made no sense to her.

"It arrived via courier this morning," Regina said, her tone almost scathing. "I had to keep it from Neal, since you've insisted he be oblivious to this until it's done. I came straight here after reading it ... we can't use this in our case, Mother." She slammed her hand down on the papers once more. "It all but extols the virtues of Ms. Swan. According to his report, she is a bastion of wonderful motherhood." She sighed heavily. "It's exactly the reason we wanted Ms. French removed from this case."

"I am well aware," Cora told her, her brow furrowed. She still couldn't make heads or tails of what she was seeing. There was no legitimate reason for any of this; they had had a deal. People didn't just break deals with Cora Mills, especially not people who owed her the way Killian Jones did.

"I was against this from the start, need I remind you?" Regina went on. "I told you there was no way a priest was going to be able to help us, but you insisted. This one is different, you said. This one owes you." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I'm not seeing any of that so-called gratitude here." Her expression changed then. "Now that I think of it ... there was something odd about the way they behaved around each other that day I dropped Henry off with her." She looked up, arching a brow at Cora. "It was as if they knew each other. She certainly wasn't happy to see him there."

Cora had already picked up her phone, barely giving her daughter's words any heed at the moment. She dialed the number, her frown deepening when it went straight to voicemail. With a heavy sigh, she ended the call, immediately dialing again, this time, calling the rectory.

"Hello, Father O'Malley," she said cordially into the phone when the man answered on the other end. "This is Judge Mills. I was wondering if Father Jones was available? I can't seem to reach him on his phone."

"Actually, no, ma'am, I'm sorry. Nobody's seen him today," the priest said apologetically. "Not like him to be gone so long, but he's been quite busy with some of his work lately."

"Oh, to be sure," Cora said, tapping her fingers against her desk, her lips pursed thoughtfully.

"I'd be more than happy to take a message, Your Honor," Father O'Malley continued.

"No, no, that won't be necessary, Father," Cora said. "Thank you for your time."

"No trouble at all, ma'am."

Cora hit the button on her phone, her brow creased then. "Nowhere to be found ... the rectory doesn't even know where he is ... there's something going on. In all these years, he's never strayed far from them."

Regina sighed heavily, picking up the papers of the report. "This is the answer, right here, Mother," she said contemptuously. "Have you even been listening to a word I said? They know each other ... they knew each other before you put him on the case."

Cora's eyebrow shot up then. "Are you implying ... ?"

Regina looked slightly taken aback by that. "What?" she said incredulously. "No, Mother, he's a priest. I was simply saying ... "

Cora cut her off, holding up her hand. "He wasn't always a priest, and I think you know it as well as I do, that it was not the Call from God that drove him to seek sanctuary with the Church."

"So you honestly think he's ... With her?"

Cora shrugged. "I do not deign to know the details or the inner workings of the man's mind," she said scornfully. "But it would explain all of this ... " She sighed, shaking her head. "I told you before, Regina ... he's a useful ally to have."

"But what if he's not our ally?" Regina asked slowly. "Do we expose him?" Her eyebrow raised. "I mean, if it is as you say ... an affair with a clergyman doesn't exactly earn Ms. Swan very high marks on the moral and ethical scale, now does it?"

"And that's where the problem lies," Cora said, shaking her head, knowing that Regina was getting ahead of herself. "Without proof of anything, it's merely conjecture and speculation. No, exposing them won't do it, Regina."

"But you know something that will."

"Don't I always?" Cora said simply. "It's simple. Ms. Swan doesn't do so well when she hits rock bottom. Neither does Father Jones. Right now, I think they're both making a good show of keeping their heads above water. It won't take much, it never does."

She sat back in her chair then, musing. She honestly didn't know if there was any credence to what Regina said, or if it was just her daughter's somewhat overactive imagination, creating something out of nothing. It wouldn't be the first time Regina had done something foolish like that. She reached for the file, eyes skimming over the words in the report.

Well. To call it a glowing review of Ms. Swan and her capabilities as a mother would not be saying too much, that was for sure. "He does speak quite highly of her, doesn't he?" she murmured, mostly to herself. She set the file down, reaching for her phone once more. She dialed once again, knowing full well it would go to voicemail, actually banking on it.

As soon as she heard the tone, she made sure the smile could be heard in her voice. This wasn't about threatening ... not really. After all, she wasn't even sure there was anything to be concerned with just yet. However, this message, and his reaction to it, when he returned her call - and he would - would tell her everything she needed to know about the situation at hand.

"Hello, Father. Can't seem to reach you, but I wanted to let you know that my daughter and I received your wonderful report this morning." She lowered her voice then. "I'm not exactly sure where the deal we had fell through, or what it is that you're trying to prove here, all of a sudden, but all I can say is this - your choices have consquences. I do hope you've made the right ones." She hung up then, casting a look to Regina. "I'm starving. Shall we have lunch?"

oXo

"Shouldn't you answer that?" Emma asked with a small laugh, hearing Killian's cell phone go off for about the fortieth time since he'd arrived at her door that morning.

It had barely been dawn when he'd shown up at her apartment - wild-eyed and almost frenzied as he'd come to her, finally - and now it was after five in the evening, and the whole day had been spent ... like this. It had been nearly three when they'd finally made it to the bed, not that they had needed a bed, but there was something about having him here, with her, that felt achingly right.

That was usually the first sign that something was wrong. But Emma wasn't thinking about that today. Today was about them. Right or wrong, forever or just for these twenty-four hours ... it didn't matter. Right now, only this mattered. Right now, there was no past or future, there was just the present, and who they were before, and who they were going to be, was irrelevant.

"I thought the bloody battery would have died by now," Killian mumbled, making no move to get out of her bed, no effort to remove his arms from around her, no attempt to stop brushing his lips over that spot on her neck.

"Killian!" she gasped, groaning a little as she let her eyes fall closed. "I guess that's a no then, huh?"

"What were we talking about?" he muttered against her neck, teeth grazing over her flesh, sending little frissons of desire down her spine.

"We were talking?" Emma breathed out, taking his face in her hands, the stubble from his jaw - he really hadn't shaved in at least a day - tickling at her palm as she pulled his lips to hers, kissing him hungrily, as though she hadn't already had him over and over again today.

They should both be weary, they should maybe be feeling a lot worse about things than they were, but it was hard to worry about your immortal soul, when the closest thing she'd ever had to perfection was in her arms, kissing her back with the same fervor, the same need that she felt for him.

"We can talk if you want," he rasped against her lips, his fingers tangling in her long hair as he trailed his mouth along her jawline.

She sighed, her head falling back as he continued to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat. "N-no," she hissed out. "I don't feel like talking right now."

He raised his head then, his eyes meeting hers, a smirk playing on his lips. The smirk didn't belong on the priest, but he wasn't Father Jones today. Today he was Killian, and maybe he was the pirate from her dreams. It certainly didn't seem so far-fetched, when he looked at her that way, his eyes burning like blue flame, full of heat for her. All she knew that was that, at least for today, he didn't belong to God, he belonged to her.

"And what is it," he asked her, his voice low, lips brushing over the shell of her ear, as he slid his hand down her abdomen, to the juncture of her thighs, "that you feel like doing, hm, Emma?"

After the initial shock of that first breathless, almost dreamlike, time had worn off ... there had been a few moments of worry, on both their parts, that they'd made a mistake. Emma had been terrified that she'd dreamed the whole thing, or worse, that she hadn't - but that he was going to get up and leave anyway. But then he'd looked at her, and he'd started to speak, as though he were going to apologize, and she'd known that it was now or never - she had no regrets, she'd wanted him almost since the first time she'd met him, and she would not feel bad about it. And she wasn't going to let him feel guilty about it, either. Not when they both wanted it. She had moved in on him, kissing him, fingers tangled in his hair, til neither of them could remember what it was they'd been so worried about in the first place.

After that, the rest had been simple to figure out. It might not be the right thing to do, and maybe later the regrets and the "oh shit" moments would happen ... but right now was not that time.

Emma swallowed thickly, trying her damndest not to buck her hips against his hand. One thing she'd learned about him today - he'd give and he'd give and he'd give, and he'd have her quivering and all but begging for it, but on his terms. If he thought she was getting a little too greedy, he'd stop, and he'd torture her, drag it out, just that little bit more ... It was a move she could respect, because she was damn good at giving as good as she got, and he'd learned that about her, as well.

"Emma ... " he prompted then, his breath still hot against her ear, his fingers parting her slick folds, seeking out that most sensitive of spots. "Tell me ... "

She gritted her teeth, not wanting to give in so easily, not wanting him to have this insane power over her that no one else had even come close to possessing. "I don't want to," she retorted breathlessly. "Figure it out."

He chuckled darkly, she sound reverberating through her entire body as his fingers slid along her once more. "I'll stop," he whispered, nipping at her earlobe, before trailing his lips back to her throat. His free hand pulled her flush against him, her back against his torso, before sliding up to cup one of her breasts. "Do you want me to stop?"

Fuck. Damn, he was good. Ten years as a priest certainly hadn't taken the shine off of this one. "No," she breathed out then, turning her head to catch his lips with her own. He kissed her like he was a man who couldn't breathe, and she was his oxygen.

"Good," he said lowly against her lips, smirking a bit. His fingers moved faster against her then, thumb pressing against her clit as he slid one finger, then two, inside her, curling them just right.

Emma gasped, unable then to keep from arching back against him. "Killian," she groaned out, hand curling around the back of his neck, keeping him close.

"Emma," he growled lowly against her ear. His fingers moved faster, more insistently, keeping up that steady rhythm against her sweet spot, his thumb rubbing small circles over that little bundle of nerves, sure to send her right over the edge. "Come for me, Emma." The growl in his voice was almost feral now, and it sent shivers of pleasure down her spine. She could feel her stomach clenching, could feel the beginning flutters, and she moaned, unable to keep quiet.

"Oh, God," she gasped then, feeling her inner muscles begin to pulse around his fingers. Her eyes fell closed and her head fell back against his shoulder as her release hit, washing over her like an ocean wave. "Killian!"

"Aye," he breathed, breath still hot by her ear, "that's a good lass." He moved his free hand to her face, turning her again to kiss him once more. Emma sank into the kiss, turning in his arms, feeling an acute sense of loss when his fingers slid away from her as she did, but wanting to kiss him more fully, wanting to look at him. He pushed a bit of hair behind her ear as he kissed her, his own breathing uneven and ragged - Emma was amused and endeared to learn that getting her off was just as good for him as it was for her. Not that it didn't work both ways. He made the most amazing sounds when she ...

"God, you're beautiful, Emma. Bloody fucking gorgeous. If you knew how long I've wanted to do just that ... God, Emma, you would've kicked me out of here a long time ago."

Emma smiled softly against his lips. "Has the Father had unclean thoughts?" she teased lightly.

Killian groaned, closing his eyes as he kissed her again. "You've no idea, lass," he laughed breathlessly then. He settled back down amidst the pillows on her bed, pulling her to his side, tracing the line of her collarbone with his fingertips.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," Emma told him softly, looking up at him from where her head rested against the crook of his shoulder, "I haven't exactly been pure in my line of thinking where you're concerned either."

They lie there, silent, for several moments. Emma was soothed by the steady thump of his heart under her hand, the way they seemed to breathe in tandem, as though they were always meant to be breathing together, just like this.

"Emma," Killian started then, and Emma's eyes flickered to his face, not sure she liked the tone in his voice, or what it heralded.

"Shh," she said, moving her hand up, brushing her fingers over his lips. "I know. We need to talk about this. About ... all of it. I know that." She moved then, sitting up and looking down at him, her hair falling over her shoulder in a messy blonde waterfall of waves. "But not today."

"Not today ... " He eyed her, his brow furrowing as he looked up at her, his fingers reaching out to play with her hair.

Emma shook her head, biting her lip as she looked down at him. "Maybe it's too much to ask ... but I think we've both damn well earned today, don't you?"

"Emma ... "

She shook her head, leaning forward then, pressing her lips against his. "I just want you to stay ... everything that needs to be dealt with will still be waiting for us in the morning."

She was afraid he would pull away, afraid he'd push her aside and leave, like so many other people in the past had done. Instead, he tightened his fingers in her hair, pulling her down closer so he could kiss her more thoroughly. "I couldn't say no to you if I tried, my love," he breathed out raggedly against her lips, before slanting his mouth down over hers again.

Emma felt her heartbeat quicken, not sure if he'd meant to say that, or if it had merely been one of those "in the moment" sort of things, and deciding that, for now, it really didn't matter. She deepened their kiss, her tongue sliding out over his bottom lip - she loved the way he tasted, loved everything about the way he made her feel. Even when she was angry with him ... it made her feel more alive than she'd felt in a very long time. It was like she'd been under some sort of spell, and he'd come into her life, and woken her from it.

Even she knew how fanciful and stupid that sounded, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. His hands were sliding down her sides then, thumbs brushing lightly along the undersides of her breasts. He breathed out her name, as he pulled her closer to him. "You have bewitched me, Emma Swan," he murmured against her lips, smiling at her a little as he let his lips brush over hers still.

"Is that a compliment?" she whispered with a grin.

"Aye," he whispered back, his expression serious, his hands still roaming along her sides, over her curves. "I've no right to even be touching one so lovely as you ... "

"Don't stop," she breathed, leaning forward again, her hands moving to his shoulders, pushing him fully onto his back then. "I don't want you to stop." She moved over him then, legs straddling his hips, but keeping her hips above his, not touching just yet.

He inhaled sharply, looking up at her. "God."

Emma shook her head, hands resting on his chest. "Just Emma," she whispered with a smirk, as she slowly lowered herself onto him. "Do you want me to stop, Killian?"

"No," he breathed out, his eyes raking over her form hungrily. "Don't you dare."

Emma arched a brow at him, lowering herself onto him completely then, a soft gasp escaping her at the sensation of him filling her, so completely. "What happens if I dare," she began rocking her hips then, "stop?"

"Emma!" he gasped out. "Bloody fucking hell, don't you dare fucking stop."

His words, the desperate longing with which he spoke now, the way he was looking at her, all worked to ignite a fire in her like nothing she'd ever known. There was something about knowing that it was only for her, that he burned for her the same way she burned for him, that only she would ever know him like this, from here on out.

She didn't know much else about what the future might have in store - but she knew that much, somehow.

His hands dragged down her sides, fingers digging into the skin at her hips as he met her movements with his own upward thrusts. She sat up straighter, rocking against him with more urgency now, wanting every inch, wanting to surround him and engulf him and somehow, somehow make him hers forever.

If only she could.

But she knew that the morning would come, and with it, the real world, and all the things that conspired to keep them from each other. A world that believed that something as simple and as beautiful as what they had found here, with each other, was wrong. She wanted to prove them all wrong, and she would. She damn well would if it was the last thing she ever did.

But morning was not now, and now was all they had.

His hands roamed over every inch of her flesh that he could reach, and he moved, in one swift motion, so he was sitting, her astride his lap, and he was still inside her, but they were so close now, their breaths seemed to be one. He kissed her, and trailed his lips down the column of her throat, along her collarbone, he lowered his head and wrapped his lips around one of her nipples, his tongue flicking out over the taut little bud, before moving to the other one, lavishing it with the same attention.

Emma gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair, tugging at it gently as his hands moved to cup her backside, pulling her tighter against him, pushing himself just that much deeper inside her, until she swore there was no way to tell where she stopped and he began. It was together, this time, when they came apart, there in each other's arms, collapsing in a breathless heap of tangled limbs.

They made no attempt at further movement after that, neither one making a sound, no words needing to be said. He kissed her forehead as they drifted off to sleep, though both of them knew they wouldn't sleep for long, before they'd be waking one another again, fervent with their need in this, what might be their only night.

And still, when she woke the next morning, and he was just waking and dressing and getting ready to leave her, she still believed it would all be okay. She pulled him to her and kissed him again, as if this were just goodbye for the day, as if they'd see each other again soon, because she knew that they would, and she wasn't afraid.

Because it would all work out.

Somehow.