When Your Walls Come Crashing Down

Chapter 1 - Feelings

Once again, Emma found herself under the tree, this time with her back facing the outside world. Crystal droplets slid down her face, leaving two blotchy lines in their wake.

For as much as she prided herself for never dropping her carefully constructed facade, the island seemed to work differently, not against her tough shell like the rest of the world, but with her weaker half to the point that it overpowered the layers of grief, hatred, anger, frustration, worthlessness, guilt, and depression, if only for a moment.

This was what he did to her, and she hated it. She hated that he could always be so manipulating, weighing so heavy on her shoulders, a burden that never seemed to quit. She hated it for it. She hated him for it. Most importantly, she hated herself for it. For always choosing to ignore the signs, to try to see the best in him, the best in them, to salvage the scraps of their relationship, holding on like a thin, dead twig on a cold wintery tree in the middle of January, when it should have already snapped off months previous to that, while it could still break away clean. Now, when it snaps, there will be parts of the twig that will be yanked, along with whatever leftover leaf carcasses and powdery snow on top of the twig. It'll be very messy to say the least.

Emma abruptly drew herself out of her own musings when she heard the crunch of booted feet approaching her direction, the swish of leather rubbing against leaves accompanying its journey. Just great. Of course he was here.

"Hello, love. I was just out on a walk and thought I saw you head this direction. I figured I would come and check on y-"

Whatever words Killian was about to say died on his lips the moment he noticed her shaking, the tremors brought on by the raw emotion pouring out of her just moments before excruciatingly obvious.

"Swan?" He asked, the concern evident in his voice. "You alright?"

The bark of the tree she stared at seemed to blend in the most intricate pattern imaginable. The beige, tan, and brown tones swirled deliciously around abstractly, no real rhythm evident. The more she looked at it, the more Emma started to feel like a shadow, stuck to the confines of the ground, dark, hollow, forever mimicking others, forever without free will, forever forced to see things as beautiful as this tree from a slight distance, but never truly experience them.

Lost in thought, Emma didn't notice as Killian came up to her and wrapped his arms around her until his hook grazed her neck ever so slightly, the cool metal startling her back to reality. Hand and hook slid down her shoulders and across the span of her stomach, reassuringly tightening around her until she could not escape.

For some reason unexplained to her, Emma found she didn't want to leave. Killian's arms were warm, comforting, inviting almost. They were a safe haven all to themselves.

Emma spun around to face him, a moment of vulnerability that shocked both of them. Killian gave a small encouraging smile, and Emma met his eyes, refusing to back down on the challenge she set upon herself.

Their gazes locked for what felt like an eternity, and Emma's emerald pools watered more, but from what she had no clue. A single drip grazed down her cheek, and he took his hand to her face, gently caressing it away with his thumb.

Warm. That's the first thing Emma noticed. His hand was warm as he cupped her tearstained cheek. He moved the slow flame emanating from his palm to her back. He pulled her slightly to him, and she placed her head in his jacket, tucking it inside the coat itself.

Leather. That's the next thing that flooded Emma's senses, which makes sense considering that's the material of the jacket. Upon further inspection, his coat appeared to be lined with fur for insulation, and it was quite warm inside.

Rum. The smell of rum. More specifically, the overwhelming smell of rum. As Emma breathed to calm herself, she caught the depths of his scent, a combination of rum, the salty sea, a trace of 21st century cologne that he must've stolen from God knows where, and something else entirely, something woodsy, fiery, and sweet, something distinctly him, and it made her head spin.

They stayed like that for a while, both content basking in the silence. Killian gently rocked back and forth, mimicking the calm waves of the ocean lulling him to bed at night, Emma was sure. It was quite relaxing and peaceful. It was as though time had stopped, and they were the only two still breathing.

After a while, Emma's vulnerability started to back down and reasoning and logic started to make their opinion known. She pulled away from Hook, climbed off of his lap, and walked away towards a stream. When he made to move after her, she spoke up.

"Why don't you go on back to camp? I'm sure Mary Margaret and David are worried sick about us. I'm going to go freshen up. Don't wait for me. I'll be back soon."

"As you wish," was his reply. Her lips twitched up into a small smirk, which immediately became a frown once she realized what exactly she was smirking at. Her walls were down, she was vulnerable, and she had just cried in Captain freaking Hook's lap for a good fifteen minutes. God, could it get more embarrassing?

This is why she had her walls. To keep her from feeling things in front of others. To seem okay, when that couldn't be further from the truth.

"That was a one time thing too," she muttered to herself as she started her trek to the water. "One time. No more crying. No more nonsense. No more feelings. No more vulnerability."

And, just like that, the walls began to repair.