6x09 - Emma reflects on Belle and her newest vision; a conversation between her and Killian that night. Slight smut.


They lay in bed that night, even more exhausted than usual from the day's events.

She realized today she no longer had the luxury of ignoring her fate, of ignoring its weight pressing into her shoulders to the level of resignation.

She was going to fight; she would not take away her parents' daughter for the second time, she would not leave Henry without her again, and she certainly could not leave the man laying next to her. Not after everything they'd been through, everything he'd been through.

A soft press of lips to her neck broke her thoughts. "You're supposed to be sleeping," he mumbled groggily against her skin.

She pulled his hand resting on her waist and brought it close to her chest as she laced their fingers. Sighing, she kissed the back of his hand, her nose brushing where his rings normally sat. "So are you," she countered quietly.

His lips still pressed to her neck, he pulled her closer to his body and her eyes remained closed as she settled into his warm embrace.

She knows they both hadn't been sleeping well since the visions started, their minds too busy thinking, wondering, worrying. She realized today how scared he was, his jaw clenching whenever the word death crossed her lips. He would never admit it, his persistence to be strong for her–for both of them–too present, but she could read him as well as he could her. Her anger at the universe swelled within her for what his future could possibly be, what she might not be able to give him.

They were silent for another minute, his thumb brushing her bare chest absently. "What are you thinking about, love?"

She gently turned in his arms, sliding her knee between his as she tucked herself against him. She kissed above his heart before pulling back to see his face. "I was thinking about what Belle did today," she answered.

Belle had been in the back of her thoughts all night, her mind unable to shut off due to the multitude of emotions that came with them.

He hummed in response, moving a strand of hair behind her ear as he listened, waiting for her to elaborate.

"It reminded me of when I gave up Henry," she admitted softly.

His fingers paused in stroking her hair at her words, his eyes softening into a gaze of compassion. "I can only imagine how hard that is for a mother," he said.

A sad smile crossed her lips before her head tilted in realization. "We've all had to give up a child to give it its best chance."

"We?"

"Me, Belle–my parents," she clarified, her parents the focus of the thought as she looked into his eyes. "Seeing it in front of me…," she shook her head. "I don't know, it feels different now than when I just had my experience to fall back on."

"She was lucky to have you today," he said, his hand now tracing circles on her back. "You were amazing with her." His pride was evident in his voice.

She smiled at the compliment. "I'm glad I could be there for her."

The way her voice trailed off seemed to tell him her thoughts went to her experience with Henry and what she would've given to have a hand to hold when she gave birth, young, alone and scared out of her mind. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead as he hugged her tighter.

She sighed, wondering if she would ever not feel overwhelmed at the way he held her, if she would ever not be taken aback by how much a person could love another.

"Killian?"

He was watching his finger trail down her side and along her hip where the edge of the sheet covering her had slipped down, a soft smile on his lips. "Yes, my love?"

"Do you want kids?"

In her usual fashion, the bluntness of her question startled him. After all, they had yet to have this particular conversation (if only because it still terrified her). They generally found their moments where they could, their future just a concept in their minds. She couldn't help but curse at the timing, at the reason she was bringing it up.

His hand had paused, his eyes searching hers for moment before he let his hand rest atop her waist. "Do you?" He asked softly.

She swallowed at the present tense of the question. The question could be asked, the words said, but the discussion held an image of something they may not reach and she felt like a fraud speaking about it so casually.

She shrugged, her emotions suddenly clogging her throat. "What if I–we don't get the decision, what if–"

"Emma–"

She continued over him as the image formed in her mind; a little girl–she didn't know why she saw a girl, but the farther her mind went the more she realized that was what she wanted. The girl had her hair, his eyes, her cheeks, his smile. She could feel tears gather behind her eyes as she imagined him making her laugh with whip cream on his nose just as he did with Alexandra and it was all too much. She wanted it; she wanted it more than she ever had and how dare the universe threaten to take it away.

Then a different thought found its way through and she balked at the absurdity that was their life. "I mean what if we did, and another curse happens or some villain is after her and we have to be separated and–"

"Emma."

His hand on her cheek stopped her rambling. "Emma," he repeated, shaking his head like he couldn't comprehend the rant she just released at him, his eyes wide and a tiny grin upon his lips. "Her?"

She traced back her thoughts, realizing what she had said and blushed. "I–"

His lips were on hers before she could finish. She kissed him back with all she had, holding his face in her palm as her fingers sought the soft hair at the back of his neck. He pulled back a moment later, moving only to put his forehead to hers.

She held him there, not wanting to pass this moment, to taint with it with reality. For a moment, it was just them, their thoughts the same: of the future they wished to spend with the other.

"It's not fair," she whispered, a stray tear falling. "I can't help but think if I wasn't the Savior, we wouldn't be in this Hell." We wouldn't have gone to Hell, she thought bitterly. "But then without me being the Savior and Henry bringing me here, we might've never met and I just–" Her voice broke.

There was a rustle as he slid down, making them eye to eye as he placed his head on the same pillow as her. Her hand was still at his cheek, savoring the feel of his scruff scratching her palm. "We'll find a way. We always do," he told her and her eyes slip closed. She wanted to believe him, and for the most part she did, but–

"But…"

Her eyes flew open at his echoing thought, seeing the glassiness in his as he took a deep breath.

"If…," he began, and her heart sunk in her chest at the word, at the sliver of doubt they had both wanted to ignore finally surfacing between them. His jaw tightened, the pain evident in his eyes. "If," he said again, the word just a whisper.

She leaned into his palm that was now hugging her cheek, his thumb catching the tears beginning to fall.

He paused, seeming to decide against what he was going to say. "I just…," he continued, his voice soft, "I don't want you to feel like you didn't give me enough, because every day, every moment I have had with you has been enough."

His words finally broke her. Her breath shook as she surged forward and locked her lips with his. They quickly passed the point of teasing and she could taste the salt of their tears on her tongue as their lips met again and again

He broke the kiss, skating his lips across her jaw and down her neck.

She let out a breath as he sucked her pulse, the secret spot he had learned drove her crazy where her neck met her jaw. Her body quickly responding as it filled with heat, she reached down between them and took him in hand. His small moan against her skin made her smile as she gently stroked him.

He pulled back and faced her again, his breath heavy as he touched her lips with his thumb. Time seemed to stop as his fingers caressed her face, his eyes filled with love and dark with lust as they bore into hers. Her breaths ceased as he ran his hand down her body, grazing the curve of her breast before stopping just above where she wanted–needed–him most.

She felt him hard against her stomach as she shifted her leg to hook over his hip. He followed her lead, his hand moving to aim himself at her entrance as he slid down.

A pleasant sigh escaped them both as he entered her. She pulled his face close to hers, their breaths crossing and brushing each other's lips. Neither of them moved, the overwhelming love coursing between them becoming almost tangible, like they could hold it within their grasp with no intention to let it go.

"I love you so much, Emma," Killian whispered.

She closed her eyes, pretending she couldn't hear the cry of fear in his tone. Instead, she focused on the words that had become her lifeline.

"I love you, too," she returned, sealing it with a kiss.

He made love to her slowly, his face inches from hers as if she would disappear if he glanced away.

She treasured every second, every gaze, every caress of his lips that erased the scars that marked her heart, and it was enough.

If her life ended tomorrow, this would be enough.