A/N: Hello, so I have decided to add a second chapter to this, making it a twoshot. Thanks you all for your lovely reviews, they inspired me to write more, in particular a shoutout must go to Bonnie (pieanddeductions) and onetreefan! Anyway this is basically Chapter 1 from Emma's point of view, enjoy!

Since getting back from Neverland and her year in New York, Emma has been encompassed by a seemingly never-ending league of individuals, varying from her family, close friends and random fairytale characters who have found it in their best interest to greet Emma and profusely thank her for bringing them back to the land of central heating and savoury condiments. Even a few weeks after her return she's still being praised and surprisingly the only place she gets some peace is at the ever so popular Granny's.

It's slightly overwhelming to say the least and at times she's hit with an ephemeral desire to be alone, an instinct born from the years of loneliness and seclusion. It often hits her, before leaving just as quickly as it came.

She basks in the newfound promise of having people, of having friends and family here for her and frankly it's intoxicating to know that there's an Emma Swan shaped gap in people's lives that no new baby or deteriorating funds can fill.

But sometimes being surrounded by this influx of people makes her feel like she's suffocating, choking on the demands fed to her; of being a saviour, a mother, a daughter.

In fact for the first time since she's been branded with this insignia there's only one person who's made her feel forget the weight thrust upon her.

Hook.

He's made her feel like a kite, light and floating, with not a worry in the world. She's better with him, sharper, more focused, confident in her ability. She's let her walls crumble with him, let him see the real Emma Swan, the broken lost girl who didn't think she ever mattered or ever would. And he's accepted her. He's stayed.

She sees traces of him everywhere, from the leather exterior of the chairs that resembled his daily attire so well, to the miniscule image of a ship on the menu. And then it hits her.

Customers around her look up distractedly; responding to the screech of the chair against the tiled floor as Emma quickly grabs her coat and scarf, questioning why she was sitting around at Granny's, mingling with the various fairytale characters when she knows where she really wants to be is with him, with Hook. Blasts of artic wind hit her as soon as she exits the main room and for a while the only sounds that can be heard are her shoes clicking on the docks. She treks until the smell of the sea is in her lungs and the bobbing shadow of the Jolly Roger is in sight.

Her eyes shift around the deck of ship, taking in the tussled mask and spotless deck, devoid of anything, or anyone, before coming to a rest of the figure sitting sombrely on the edge of the Jolly Roger, head bowed down as if in prayer. The snowflakes are tumbling down on him, melting as they hit the leather he's clothed in, before dripping onto the wood to freeze again. His hook glistens in the moonlight, illuminating his pained face.

He looks vulnerable, anguish written all over his face, an inferno of loathing raging relentlessly in his eyes. She should leave; let him wallow in self-pity for a while. A voice nags in her head, there's nothing that she could do that would help him. But…

There's something familiar in his expression, something that stops her in her tracks and silences the nagging voice in her head. She cocks her head to one side, attempting to pinpoint where she's seen that expression before, when it runs out and dances in her of her. Herself. That look in his eye… she had it. Suddenly she's transported back, back to her years in the foster system, back to when Neal left her and it stings, stings like acid to remember the despair, the feeling of being cast away, discarded, unwanted. She remembers wondering why, why did people always leave her, she remembers feeling inadequate and insecure before the self-loathing flooded in, because it was her. She was the problem; she was just unlovable, repulsive, a child spawned from the waste of the wicked, a lowly thief destined for insignificance, a curse upon the world.

It took her years to realise that how she perceived herself was in fact the opposite of what she truly was. Slowly she let herself be stitched up by the hands of others, by Mary Margaret, Henry, David… Hook.

She shakes herself out of her musings and watches him for a while, watches his ragged breathing, takes note of the way his eyes reflect the ocean and how his rest vest sinfully stops exactly horizontal to the curve in his biceps, exposing the dark hairs that sprout from his chiselled chest…

Her legs move of their own accord, he's like a magnet and she's drawn to him. He doesn't notice her until she's right beside him. With a smile bereft of his usual easy going charm and movements slow, like he was moving his arm through tar, he gestured to the empty space on his left. Accepting his offer she frowns, making a joke to test the waters. "Wait, I come to your ship late at night and you don't even have a snarky innuendo? Are you feeling alright Captain Hook?" she smirks, trying to unravel the walls he's put up by making him more at ease. It works a bit, he cracks a smile and it's like seeing sparks when trying to start a fire in the dark. This doesn't faze her, for a spark is all that is needed to start a full-fledged flame. The silence between them persists for a few minutes as idea knocks around in her head, ceaselessly bounding, exclaiming, wanting to be heard; you know how to get through to him. And she does.

"Killian…" she starts, the name burning on her mouth, her voice softening down to a whisper. How long had he waited to hear his name, how long had she wanted it to pass through her lips? The sound of his name coming from her acts like a key, unlocking the secrets he hides inside of him. After a moment's hesitation he lets loose.

It all pours out at once, of his lost brother Liam, of his first love Milah and his quest to avenge them. He fears he's become a monster and at that Emma has an urge to wrap her arms around him and comfort him, because she's been down that path, felt the same way and it excruciates her to think that he of all people feels that way. She hums words of gratification in his ear, words she'd wished she heard when she felt this way until she senses that silent company is the best she can give him at this point. Wrapping her slender arms around him and brushing her lips against his jet black hair they sit on the rocking boat serenely absorbing each other's presence. And that's enough for now.

So what were your thoughts on this chapter? Reviews are like cookie dough frozen yoghurt! Which I have never had before, but apparently it's a flavour and I kinda need it in my life. I'm assuming it's amazing though, I mean it's cookie dough and frozen yogurt :p