Storybrooke was a small town. Point blank.

The only thing more lacking than the population was the available activities. And the gossip.

So when after coming back from their big journey (conquering not only Neverland but the Enchanted Forest once more) with two extra passengers on board, everyone was a little curious as to the kicked-puppy-look Neal permanently had on his face and the way Emma couldn't seem to look anyone in the eye except for her rescued son. (They would have also noticed how Hook seemed to have a softer look in his eyes or the way his gaze would linger a beat too long on golden hair and creamy skin but no one really bothered to pay attention to the pirate, letting him fade into the background.)

At first there were whispers, conspiring voices asking if it was true, some giving first hand recounts of overhearing Snow confiding to her best friend. Some said she didn't like it, tsking her tongue with a look of disappointment maring her face, while others divulged she was already looking at flower arrangements and thinking up baby names. But there was one consistency throughout all the tales.

Emma Swan and Killian Jones were in love.

But not just any love. No, they were True Love.

Up until around a month after their return, the details were fuzzy for most citizens except those truly close with the family. But then the ones who were close to the close, such as Whale or Belle, maybe even Grumpy if he was feeling generous enough to lend an ear, heard. And then the news spread like wildfire, creeping through the streets of Storybrooke much in the same way magic had returned; almost instantaneous and with great force, leaving no one untouched.

If asking anyone on the street, certain specifics would be lost through translation but the general idea was always the same.

Emma got put under a curse, originally intended for Neal after he took the wrong trail through the forest, the same place that the group finally stumbled upon him. It had been sucking away her life, a punishment for trespassing over a long lost sorcerer's enchanted swamp. He had died long ago but his curse hadn't been as lucky. The spell worked slowly, a drawn out death that hurt to watch almost as much as it hurt to feel. She grew weaker and more out of breath. Muscles would ache and burn and the color faded from her features. It would seem she had become perpetually grey, in complexion and spirit.

(The stories never included how Emma never accepted any form of pity, refusing to have any attention put on her if it meant taking it away from Henry. She had just been glad to have her son back, nothing else had mattered.)

She had been so set in her stubborn refusal that it took them three days to realize something was wrong with the prophesied princess when they were back on the Jolly Roger. Even then they believed she had only become ill, deathly ill but still, no one presumed foul-play.

But someone had figured it out (as always, it had been Henry), although the realization also came as she went into a magic induced coma. Or a sleeping curse, as more popularly known.

Henry had tried first at everyone's insistence, but Emma was dying, along with her natural born abilities. No ordinary kiss could work. It couldn't be merely the product of True Love, it had to be pure, burning, real-as-the-stars-above True Love.

So next up had been Neal, once more with everyone's assurance that it would work this time. It had to work this time. But it didn't. There was nothing, just a tired man leaning over a dying swan as her eyes stayed shut.

They tried Snow and Charming after that but all had lost hope. The only idea left was make it back to Storybrooke as quickly as possible and hope to find a cure back there.

There was only one part of the story no one knew the actual specifics for (except for a select two and even then one of them was unconscious for part of it), but what is known is that Killian had entered his captain chambers one night and then him and Emma exited. No explanations, no big hustle or crowd holding their breath. Just a simple transformation that sent the ship into an uproar.

It was easy to see why the whole town was convinced a fairytale wedding was on the horizon but as people watched the pair they saw nothing to indicate the obvious substantial change in their relationship.

In fact, most noted that Emma didn't even bother to acknowledge Hook more than when he was just a vengeful pirate reeking havoc on her town. But what confused them even more was that Hook seemed to let her go on in her fantasy world, acting as if he had only given her some cough medicine to get rid of a cold instead of bringing her back to life with the simple act of being her soulmate. They were distant but not subtle, leaving the town with one question.

What the hell was going on?

Emma stepped up the familiar path of the Roger, feeling comfortable amongst the beaten wood and smell of salt water. But despite the well known atmosphere she had grown accustomed to during their seemingly never ending journey, she was here on a mission and the clunk of her boots and way her hands found her hips as she stopped demonstrated just that.

"Hook," she called out, not nearly a yell but loud enough for him to hear if anywhere on deck or just below. Her voice was demanding and full of no nonsense, echoing out onto the sea.

After a few purposeful beats, his body casually emerged from the helm and she just knew he had somehow anticipated her arrival. He looked her over without thought, eyes leaving a trail that she had learned to ignore.

"To what do I owe the pleasure today, dear Swan?" he asked, tone careless and sarcastic as he stopped a few feet away from her to secure a rope, making her feel intrusive and unwelcome.

"You're terrorizing my town again," she told him evenly, her annoyance apparent as her eyes watched him despite his distracted gaze.

"Am I?" he countered with fake cheer, tying one last knot before turning to her. "I don't seem to recall."

"You don't recall breaking into Belle's library and stealing books?" she asked, clearly rhetorical as made clear by the doubt in her voice.

"If I seem to remember correctly from the brief explanation given to me when I arrived, that would seem to be the whole purpose of a library," he threw back at her, aggravation entering his voice for the first time. Since their return he'd been feeling it more and more while around Emma, and he'd learned to keep his patience for her, but today he couldn't find it in himself to tamper it in the slightest.

"You're suppose to borrow the books, not take them, and even then you need to have a library card first," she explained, sounding overly frustrated about the minor offense.

"See," he began, taking a step towards her with fake curiosity, "it's humorous that this is just now becoming a problem considering this has been a normal occurance since we've returned," his gaze hardened on her as she blanched, "Now, I know Belle hasn't been running to you for help because, well, she assisted me to find some of my more specific pieces, so that begs the question of you either spying on me or we have an anonymous citizen who cares desperately for the safety of the town's stock on literature."

Emma's green eyes became stormy at the accusation. She wasn't spying, as he so harshly assumed. She had only been in Granny's, having lunch with her son, and noticed him leave the back way from the old building with a tan hardcover book in his one hand. It was called being observant, as any good cop would know.

Hook stared at her a moment, waiting for her to break her own struck silence but sighed heavily when she didn't. He turned away, as if he couldn't look at her and began buying his time with other meaningless tasks. She heard him mutter something about a wench under his breath but it was too quiet and grumbled from his mumblings to decipher.

"Are we ever going to discuss this?" he asked suddenly, looking over at her and not believing that she was still deciding to play clueless.

"Hook-" she began, voice exasperated. Couldn't he ever just let sleeping dogs lie?

"No," he cut her off, voice dangerous. "If you could call me by my name while still in Neverland then you can call me by it now." It was a blatant challenge, daring her to act as if anything had changed between them from then and now, as she so refused to do, but he just couldn't let her regress that far. He hadn't been Hook for a long time with her and he wasn't going to go back now.

"Fine," she conceded, giving him a pointed look that was every bit as stubborn as he knew her to be. "Killian." She paused to look at him as if to say are you happy now? and he only replied with a hand motion to continue. She sighed in annoyance. "Now, we've been over this. We're not even exactly sure what happened in the Enchanted Fore-"

"Like bloody hell we don't know!" he once more interrupted, his sudden flare of anger pushing him to exclaim the words. "I think it was quite clear what transpired that day but you're too bloody thick to just accept it." Her head snapped in his direction, eyes able to make him drop if looks could kill.

"There's nothing to accept. You helped me. That's it," she insisted, as if he were the difficult one here. He let out a humorless laugh that made Emma frown.

"Only you would receive a straight sign from the bloody universe and brush it off as if it to be an inconvenience," he told her scathingly, cruel smile on his lips with his tongue tucked into his cheek.

"Well maybe it is," she threw back, and honestly, if she would have given herself a moment to think the words over, she would never have let them run through her mind again. Especially if she knew the look it now forced onto Killian's face. It wiped away the teasing, the anger, every trace of the mighty Captain Hook and left only shock and a look as if she had punched him in the gut, pulling reluctantly at her heart.

"Killian-" she tried to backtrack but he only held up a hand wordlessly, making her go silent as he turned to the sea, lost in his own thoughts. She stood there, feeling ashamed and like the liar she knew she was as she fiddled her hands.

"Is it because it's not easy?" he asked after a long pause, refusing to look at her. She stayed quiet still. He huffed tiredly. "Let's be honest, love, I'm not exactly anyone's first choice when it comes to love. Your parents are less than fond of me, your lad seems to enjoy my tales but who would want a pirate around their child, Emma? It's not exactly the ending everyone had been anticipating." The way he stared at her once he was finished made something click in her head.

"You think this is about Neal?" she asked in disbelief but wasn't actually sure why she was surprised. Up until a couple months ago she had thought the same thing. But looking back now...she wondered when she stopped caring about herself so much that she'd let her old love back in after everything.

"Well, it'd be simpler, wouldn't it?" he asked, pushing off the railing. There was frustration and almost defeat in his tone and Emma didn't like how it sounded on him.

"No." Her reply was instantaneous, no hint of doubt in her voice with that stubborn look on her face that tore him between affection and aggravation. "It wouldn't. Because he left me, Killian."

He glanced back at her, eyes lingering as if he were trying to figure her out.

"That's the problem," she continued, voice steely as she forced herself to say the words. "People leave. They leave and they never come back. Not on their own. I have to find them like a pathetic little girl," she spit the word out like it was acid, "feeling as if I'm forcing them to stick around because they feel bad for me." Killian stared at her for a long moment but she had become accustomed to his gaze. She had also become accustomed to the way he took the few steps in front of her to rest his hand and hook just at the back of her hips, an action he had taken up whenever she would convince herself she'd never see Henry again, whispering strong words and promises that gave her hope once more. Emma knew she should pull away but wasn't strong enough to when he would look at her like that. Not with sympathy or fake condolences, but with understanding and respect. "Don't you get it?" she asked him mournfully, words coming out broken as a frown starting to pull at her face, tears slipping from her eyes. She began to feel as desperate as she had before Henry had taken a bite of that damn pastry. "We're only going to be pulled apart."

"Maybe." She was somewhat surprised at his relenting answer but his eyes conveyed he wasn't even close to giving in as he leant into her. "But you're forgetting one small detail." His words were breathed out, ghosting over her mouth as his lips descended to brush chastely over hers, barely even able to be called a kiss. He acknowledged the fact that maybe it wasn't the best time but couldn't deny himself the short gratification, especially when she didn't pull away. Emma's face scrunched up at the sweet gesture though, battling herself with every second. He retreated only far enough to see her face and her glassy green eyes gazed up at him in a way that made his heart stutter despite their pain.

"What?" she whispered, hope disobediently flaring up in her at the soft look in his blue eyes, as if he knew all the answers. He stayed silent a moment, hand moving from her waist to brush through her hair gently, watching his own movements only to end up resting on her cheek, firmly holding her in place and ducking his head slightly so she couldn't avoid eye contact and would receive the full brunt of his words.

"True Love," he enunciated each syllable, his dramatics never one to be quenched, especially in such a meaningful moment, "means I will always come back for you," he told her fiercely and Emma felt her emotions spike up dangerously. "I don't care if it's magic, death, bloody Neal, or your own unyielding self," Emma let out a watery laugh, making him flash her a quick grin, "I will never leave you abandoned." She smiled up at him. It was small and watery, her tears mingling on her face, but there was a sliver of happiness there and something that reminded him greatly of love.

"That's an impossible thing to promise," she told him but she was shaking her head affectionately. He grinned down at her, feeling the shift. She was his.

"Well," he mused lightly, voice a low grumble as his face drew closer to hers, "it's a good thing I love a challenge." This time his mouth claimed hers, no simple brushing of lips or mistaken touches. He showed her just what he felt taking over him in that moment, any moment as long as he was with her. It was slow and sensual, the process thorough and creating an impatience in Emma due to her creeping need, making her grip the hair at the nape of his neck and mold her body seamlessly into his.

They eventually pulled back for air, foreheads resting against each other as Emma watched Killian breath heavily with his eyes still shut, unwilling to believe that he had convinced her into taking that leap and that now he was hers and only hers.

"Promise?" she whispered, remnants of doubt voicing their last concern. His eyes opened slowly, as if waking from a peaceful slumber, and striking blue held her.

"On the sea," he vowed silently and that was all she needed.

The next day Killian and Emma were spotted at Granny's sharing a meal full of smiles and carefree laughter followed by a stroll along the shore. It was noted by many the way their hands gripped together as they looked out over the sea, unheard words as Emma leaned into his side as if she were made for it.

It was a complete one-eighty from the past month but the townspeople had given up understanding anything pertaining to the Charming's and their affairs long ago.

That didn't mean it would stop the whispers though.

Oh the fluff, how it takes over my life. Leave me reviews because they might be the only thing about to push me through finals week.