When Your Walls Come Crashing Down

Chapter 2 - Not-So-Sweet Dreams

A few days had passed since Emma's last breakdown, and she would not make eye contact with Hook. She was far too embarrassed to look at him for fear of seeing his emotions displayed, whether on his face or in his eyes. What those feelings were, she had no clue. They could be concern, second-hand embarrassment, disgust, pity, annoyance, or just judgment in general.

Him, on the other hand... well... Emma could feel his gaze pinning her down. It was highly unnerving. Thankfully, he didn't try to talk to her though, so she viewed that as a win.

"Emma," David called across the camp, where he and Mary Margaret were busy trying to set up for the night. They had had a day full of traveling, and some rest was surely overdue.

"Yeah?" came her reply.

"Could you come help your mother for a moment? She could use an extra pair of hands getting this 'bed' set up," he responded, his hands making air quotes on the word "bed."

"I guess so." And with that, Emma stood up from her spot on the ground, dusted the invisible dirt off of her shirt, and crossed the campsite.

====================================

If there was one thing Emma wished she had known before her trip to this stupid island full of mystical creatures and life threatening obstacles, it would be that Neverland temperatures at night can be colder than ice itself. If she had, she certainly would've brought her jacket along.

She was once again stuck on the midnight watch shift, and she absolutely hated it. It was freezing, dark, and eerily silent, like the entire island had died off and she was left in the ruins. She would so much rather be asleep right now anyway.

Emma leaned her head back against a tree trunk, trying to force herself to stay awake, when, all of a sudden, a bunch of thrashing around came from her left. Startled, and expecting not-so-friendly company, she shifted her hand to Neal's old cutlass, holstered securely around her back. What she didn't expect to see, however, was the bolting upright of one wide eyed, messy matted clumped haired, panting and grasping the ground for purchase Killian Jones.

He sat there, eyes unfocused, rapidly searching the dark before settling on her. She averted her gaze, but they both knew that she had seen.

Carefully, Killian dragged himself up and walked over to where Emma was. Oh, boy, was Emma's only thought. Here we go.

"I'm, uh, sorry if I startled you, love," he stated hesitantly, scratching his ear with his hand.

He sat down next to her, and Emma couldn't help but notice their close proximity. His foot brushed up against hers, and jolts of white hot electric flew up her leg, making her have to suppress a shudder.

"I-," he spoke again, but it fell flat. The silence took over again, and they both basked in it. It wasn't awkward and uncomfortable, per se, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either.

"You know there's no reason to apologize, right?" Emma said after a few three-day long minutes.

She took a deep breath, finding herself crazy for saying this next sentence aloud, to him of all people. These were the things she hid from others, that she bottled up. These things were the reasons she had walls. But with him, it was as though her walls fell short, just short enough to peek over the edge and look around.

"I get them too. The nightmares, I mean. So, I know what it's like."

His head snapped up at her, and he stared at her, his gaze analyzing her features. He must've been satisfied, Emma assumed, because he nodded slightly and looked away.

Emma was prepared for him to say something, whether it be concerned, flirty, or serious. What she wasn't prepared for was for him to wrap his arm around her shoulder and pull her close.

She knew she shouldn't. That she couldn't, but why? Her brain couldn't come up with a single reason why not. At last, it said weakly, Neal, but Neal didn't matter. He left her years ago, and was more of a ghost from her past rather than a living, breathing human being.

In one last attempt, her head screamed, Henry! That stopped her short. Her main focus should be Henry right now. Her head started to swim, and her breathing picked up just slightly; it was barely noticeable but still there nonetheless.

It wasn't until she tried to pull away but couldn't that she realized his grip on her had tightened.

"Hey, love. Look at me."

Emma turned towards the whisperer, and crazed panicky green met concerned yet calm blue.

"Henry is going to be alright. He's a strong lad, much like his mother. We'll get him back."

And dang, if he didn't know exactly what she was thinking. Open book, she reminded herself.

"How is it you know exactly what to say all the time?" she asked him.

"I don't. I just try my best to reassure you that you're not alone anymore."

At that, Emma relaxed into Killian's side.

"Just for a little while," she told him at his amused yet shocked smirk.

Twenty minutes later, when Snow woke to use the restroom, they were both fast asleep, Killian's jacket wrapped around Emma's shoulders.