Once Upon a Time - We're a Long Way From There (Killian/Emma, Canon Divergence) 6/12
Title: We're a Long Way From There 6/12
Author:
batgurl88
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Killian/Emma, Regina/Robin (background), Belle/Gold (background), David/Snow White (background)
Summary: Killian pays the ultimate price for Emma's actions as the Dark One - his life. Now, she and the others must overcome the scars of Camelot to save him, while Killian searches for an escape from the Underworld.
Canon-divergent AU of S5.
A/N: I survived the nightmare week, so I'm hopefully back on schedule now. Thank you to everyone who's been reading and following so far! We're finally at the halfway point.
As always, a big thank you to love-with-you-i-have-everything for the beta!
Chapter Five
Camelot, Week 5
"What do you mean, 'It's not that simple'? You're not going to help us?"
Killian leaned against the wall of the bedchambers gifted to Emma's parents, the pale stone cool against his back. He picked at the tip of his hook with his thumbnail as the others continued their squabbling, feeling oddly disconnected from the debate.
David, for his part, looked ready to grab Merlin by the robes and shake him, were it not for his wife holding him back.
The Sorcerer in question - and what a bloody great use he was turning out to be, after all of the trouble they'd gone through to find him - was unphased, merely shaking his head at the royals' anger.
"The curse of the Dark One is difficult to break," he responded in that maddeningly even tone of his. "Once the person who is cursed begins to crave the power, they cannot be saved, not easily."
"But that's not Emma," Snow White protested. "I know she went too far with Arthur and his knights, but she stopped. She still wants to break the curse, I know it."
"She has tasted what the power can do now - what it can give her. Unless her heart is truly ready to be free, the Darkness will not let her go," said Merlin. "There is a prophecy of a Dark One who will come to power. One who will have the greatest capacity for good or for evil. They will either break the curse forever, or they will become the most powerful Dark One of all time, responsible for the destruction of countless lives."
"No," Henry said firmly, speaking up for the first time. "She's the Saviour. Just because she had one slip-up doesn't mean she's evil. We all saw her give Merida's heart back, and she saved Robin's life. She won't give into the Darkness - she'll fight it. That's what heroes do."
Merlin turned a pitying look on the lad. "Her bloodlust against Arthur was not her only transgression. The power had already begun to turn her mind before then."
"What do you mean?" Regina demanded.
"She took the heart of a young girl this very evening," he answered, his deep brown eyes latched on Henry still. "She used her to obtain the tear of lost love, then willed her to forget the experience."
Killian's thumb caught on the tip of his hook, leaving behind a smear of blood, his veins running cold. He swallowed, staring out into the middle distance, lost in the excruciating memory of a hand plunging into his chest. Of reciting words that belonged to another. Of watching his life from behind someone else's eyes, helpless to stop it.
Beside him, Emma's parents gasped, Snow White grabbing her husband's arm in a forceful grip.
Their pain was nothing on Henry's, his eyes swimming with tears.
"No..." he shook his head, backing away. "No, she wouldn't do that."
"I am sorry," said Merlin. "But you need to understand the enormity of what we are facing. She may not be the Emma you knew, not anymore."
The others were clearly still reeling from the revelation, Regina pulling Henry into her arms as Emma's parents held the sort of silent conversation that only long-married couples could. Killian, for his part, felt strangely numb, a gaping hole where his lungs should be.
"What if we stopped it?" Regina asked. "If the Darkness is pulling at her, maybe we can prevent it from getting any worse."
"How?" said Robin, frowning.
"The dagger," Snow answered with dawning understanding. "If the power gets stronger when she uses it, maybe we can stop her from using more of it - buy ourselves enough time to break the curse."
Killian fought back a swell of nausea, though whether it was the thought of their plan or the fate that awaited Emma that caused it, he couldn't say.
"You want to control her?" he asked, his voice rough from disuse. The others glanced over as though they'd forgotten he was there.
David's face betrayed the same anguish he was feeling. "I don't like it, either," he said. He glanced away, continuing after a moment. "...But if Merlin's right, then Emma may not be able to fight the Darkness on her own. If it's the only way to save her, what choice do we have?"
"But controlling her? Is that any better than what she did?" Belle asked, echoing Killian's thoughts.
"What else can we do?" said Snow White. "She made us promise to save her from the curse, and I refuse to let her become the Dark One that Merlin is talking about. If the dagger can prevent that, then we have to try."
The dagger. A wave of loathing ran through him at the thought of that cursed blade. Not even two months ago, he'd fought tooth and nail against the very idea of them using it on Emma, convinced that defeating the Darkness had to be her decision. But the memory of her face in the courtyard, the way her eyes had lit up with a perverse sort of glee as Arthur writhed on the ground before her continued to haunt him.
A small, guilty, voice within him wondered whether she was even capable of making the decision for herself anymore.
"Will it even work?" Robin asked, directing his question to the Sorcerer. "Will just stopping her from using the power be enough?"
Killian tuned out the answer, his attention shifting to Henry. The lad's face was a picture of devastation, his cheeks wet with tears. He could certainly empathize, his stomach churning with the events of the last few hours.
He stared down at his hook, remembering the way Emma had revelled in holding the lives of Arthur and his men in her hands. The way she had looked up at him afterward, as though he were a beloved pet who Arthur had threatened, her eyes still bright with power. She had been a stranger to him in that instant - no hint of the woman he loved behind those familiar green eyes - just another Dark One in a long line.
He knew from experience how darkness could twist one's thoughts, take hold of one's doubts and insecurities and refuse to let go. Killian loved Emma with all of his heart, but everyone had weaknesses and she was no exception.
Already, she had told him of the Crocodile haunting her steps, of the voices that whispered her deepest fears while everyone else slept. He had more faith in Emma than in anyone else alive, but the curse of the Dark One was the most powerful magic in existence. How long could she honestly hope to hold out against it? How could they stop it from invading her when none of them could see the things she saw?
The others continued their debate without him, his presence ignored as they argued over the best way to save Emma from herself.
Killian remained quiet, ashamed of himself for wondering if it was already too late.
* * *
The Underworld, Present
"Hook? Is it really you?"
Killian blinked a few times, still unable to believe his own eyes.
"Aye, it's me," he replied unsteadily, bewildered.
He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. The man standing before him wearing a faded burlap tunic and worn trousers that were patched and caked with dirt was indeed Neal. He was dressed much as he had been when Pan's curse had returned them to the Enchanted Forest, his messy hair longer than usual. Except - Killian blinked - the clothes were fading before his eyes, slowly being replaced with the gray shirt and jeans he recalled last seeing him in at the hospital, the burden of firewood in his arms vanishing from existence.
"It's really you." Neal sounded just as astonished as he felt, apparently failing to notice his changing attire.
"Aye," Killian repeated, at a loss for what else to say. He glanced at their surroundings in confusion. "I don't understand. Is this the Enchanted Forest? How did we-?"
"Not exactly," Neal answered, a strangely vulnerable expression washing over his face. "We're in the Underworld. This is my, uh, my punishment."
Killian frowned, looking around again. It certainly felt real enough, the sights and sounds exactly as he would have expected.
It occurred to him, suddenly, why the Forest had looked so odd to him. It was as it had been centuries ago, when Killian had first come across Neal's family. Vaguely, he wondered if this was some sort of memory of Neal's, though that wouldn't account for why Neal still looked like his adult self.
"What…" he trailed off as the forest began to fade just as Neal's clothes had, the bright light of the sun dimming into a familiar green hue. Moments later, they were standing in a cavern much like the one Killian had just left.
"It happens when someone gets woken from a punishment," Neal answered the question that had been on the tip of his tongue, though the response raised only more questions in his mind. Killian was tempted to ask after the nature of Neal's punishment, but something in his expression made him think better of it.
"What are you doing here?" asked Neal.
"The same as you, I expect," he said, feeling out of sorts at the unexpected reunion.
Neal frowned, taking in his face and appearance.
"No offense, but you don't look like you died of old age."
"Sadly not," said Killian, the notion finally managing to shake him from his stupor. "My soul was taken by a fury - the price for the Dark One to obtain ultimate power, apparently."
"My dad did this?" Neal asked, his eyes widening.
It seemed that Hades and the judges were the only ones aware of the happenings in the land of the living, then. Killian was tempted to brush over the question, certain the answer would not be well received, but Neal deserved an explanation of the events that had unfolded in his absence.
"Rumpelstiltskin isn't the Dark One anymore. The Darkness was overtaking his heart, so the Sorcerer's Apprentice pulled the curse from him to save his life. Unfortunately, that set the Darkness free to inhabit another."
"He's- he's not the Dark One?"
Neal's voice shook as he spoke, and Killian did not envy him the confusing blend of emotions he must have been experiencing, given the complicated history between father and son.
"I spent so many years wishing I could rid my Papa of the Darkness," he said softly, shaking his head. "But it's been so long, I barely remember what he was like before. I can't even imagine what he'd be like now."
"I'm afraid I can't tell you much," Killian said regretfully, wishing he could offer some measure of comfort. "He was in a coma for several months after the Darkness was removed, and he and Belle went missing shortly before the fury attacked."
Truthfully, even if it weren't for the coma and disappearance, he wasn't sure he would have had much information to provide. He and Rumpelstiltskin would likely never be close, given the centuries of history between them, dark curse or not. Most of Killian's concern over the matter had been for Belle's sake - he'd seen how deeply she'd been affected by the events of the past few months, and how draining the experience of her husband's return, betrayal, and subsequent coma had been on her.
Still, he and Belle rarely discussed her marriage, except in broad terms, and he doubted he would've gone out of his way to seek out the other man's company even if he hadn't been missing. As sorry as he'd felt for Belle, some part of him was still angry with Rumpelstiltskin for forcing Emma to take on the Darkness in the first place. Had it not been for his selfishness, she never would have had to sacrifice herself.
Even now, knowing that things weren't really that black and white, he couldn't deny the seed of resentment toward the man for leaving her in that position.
Neal was staring off into the distance, a myriad of thoughts evident on his face. He shook his head again.
"Wait, so who's the Dark One now?"
Killian grimaced, though he'd known he would have to explain eventually.
"Without your father's heart to tether it, the Darkness was free to roam to another victim. It went for Regina at first, but Emma thought she'd have a better chance of fighting it off-"
"Wait, Emma's the Dark One?" Neal cut in, panic in his eyes.
"Aye," Killian replied grimly, strangely relieved to hear his own worry reflected back at him. "She made us promise to break the curse, but I died before we could succeed. When I last saw her, she was preparing to kill Merlin and take his power. I need to get back to her before she does something she'll regret."
Neal was nodding along as he spoke, running a hand over his mouth.
"Yeah. Yeah, if you only just died, there's gotta be some way we can get you back there..." he mused to himself, his brow creased in thought.
Killian raised an eyebrow in spite of himself. "You'll help?"
It wasn't that he thought the other man heartless, but he did expect himself to be rather low on the list of people he'd be eager to assist.
If Neal took offense to his surprise, he didn't show it, his eyes scanning the walls of the empty cavern.
"Yeah, of course," he said distractedly. "I grew up with a Dark One for a parent. The last thing I want is for Emma and Henry to go through the same thing."
He shook his head. "Only problem is, I'm not really sure how to get out of the Underworld," he admitted, spreading his arms. "I mean, this is pretty much all I've seen since I've been down here. There were other souls around when I first arrived, but other than the judges and the weird bird thing that brought me in here, I think you're the first person I've talked to since I got my punishment."
Killian nodded, all too familiar with the loneliness of the Underworld himself. "Aye, I gathered there aren't many opportunities for interaction with the outside world here."
His words seemed to give Neal pause, a contemplative look spreading over his face. "Unless you're Hades," he said thoughtfully. "He always knows what's going on topside." He glanced up at Killian, a small but growing smile on his face. "I heard these other guys talking about it when I was waiting for my punishment. Hades has this reflective... pool - lake - I don't know, but it's something he uses to scry. Apparently, it can show you anything - it's how he keeps tabs on what's happening in the land of the living. Maybe we can use it to show you a way out of here."
It was as good a plan as any, and far better than Killian's earlier strategy of wandering until he happened upon an exit. Hope blossomed in his chest - it was far from a sure thing, but it was one step closer to getting him back to Emma.
He indicated his agreement, a grim sense of determination settling over him.
"Well, what are we waiting for, man?" said Neal, gesturing back the way he'd come. The jet-black door was just visible across the dimly lit cavern. "Let's go."
Killian hesitated, a sober thought occurring to him.
"Hades may not like you helping me," he said slowly, his optimism beginning to fade. As desperately as he longed for the assistance and the comfort of a familiar face, the last thing he wanted was to put anyone else in harm's way. Hades, for all of his apparent friendliness, seemed like the type to bite when crossed. "Are you sure you want to risk it?"
Neal waved off his concerns.
"What are they going to do, kill me more?" he dismissed, shrugging. "I'd rather get a few extra years tacked onto my sentence than go on knowing Emma's stuck as the Dark One. Besides, our chances are probably better together."
Killian ducked his head, determinedly burying the rush of happiness and regret that always seemed to surface in Bae's presence. He knew the other man's willingness to help had little to do with him, but selfish though it was, he couldn't deny that he was grateful for his company.
"Very well," he said brusquely, heading for the door. "Let's be off."
* * *
Emma sighed as she burrowed down into the couch cushions, her head tucked against Killian's shoulder.
Her brother cooed softly in his crib before falling silent, thankfully still fast asleep. He'd been quiet most of the night, waking only briefly to take his bottle. It was the most uneventful night of babysitting duty she could remember in a long time, and she was more than grateful for the excuse to relax.
"Happy, love?" Killian asked, his voice rumbling beneath her ear.
Her smile widened as she turned her face into his chest, pleasantly sleepy. She could feel him chuckling softly at her actions, his hand rubbing along her upper arm.
"Very," she mumbled, her eyes drifting shut. Her parents weren't due back for another few hours, and she was planning to spend all of them right here. "I vote we never move from this spot."
"As long as that's what you want," he replied easily. "That's all that's ever really mattered, isn't it? What you wanted."
Her brow furrowed, her tired brain struggling to process his statement. "What?"
"Ever since I came to Storybrooke, everything has been about your needs," Killian explained in that same casually unaffected tone. "And I let it happen because I didn't have anyone else - you were my whole world. I suppose that's why it was so easy for you to use me."
She drew back as though she'd been slapped, the bottom dropping out of her stomach. She turned to face him, her chest constricting painfully. "I didn't use you!"
He smiled back at her, his skin pallid in the yellow light of the loft. "Dark Ones always use people, love. But you were doing it long before you grabbed that cursed blade. Perhaps that's why the Darkness took you so easily - it knew the kind of person you truly were."
Her heart lodged itself in her throat, a wave of nausea rolling through her. Killian's eyes were sunken now, deep purple bags circling them. "Why are you-"
"But then, you've always been best at putting yourself first," he interrupted softly, his voice sounding strangely distant now.
"That's why I used to love you."
Emma shot awake, her heart racing. It took a moment for her sluggish brain to catch up to her surroundings, slowly recognizing the steady creak of the Flying Dutchman as it rocked on the waves. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, rubbing the sleep away.
Her back gave a twinge as she stretched, a painful reminder that sleeping on a pile of old sails in the corner of the deck probably wasn't her smartest idea ever. Truthfully, she hadn't meant to fall asleep, the pre-dawn light streaming across the deck suggesting that she hadn't been napping for long.
She still felt like she could lie down and sleep for days, but as exhausted as she was, she could never seem to manage more than a few hours at a time.
At least she wasn't alone in that department. They'd discovered shortly after they'd departed Storybrooke that undead pirates weren't big on sleep either, Jones' crew prowling the ship day and night without rest.
The crew had quieted down as the sun set, but most had ventured off to the galley - to drink and gamble the night away, if her past experience with pirates was any indication - which had left the crew's quarters conveniently empty for their use. The others had all turned in early, but she'd stayed above deck, watching the sun disappear over the horizon.
She was regretting the decision now, the echoing loneliness from her dream making the empty deck feel all the more isolated.
She stood gingerly, casting a wary eye to Davy Jones who was still at the helm, just barely visible in the dim light. He'd hardly moved from his post the entire trip, his eyes on the sea, silent other than to bark the occasional order at his crew.
His dark eyes met hers with unnerving accuracy, now. She fought back another shiver, instead making her way across the deck, feeling his gaze on her as she walked. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on her, already looking forward to the moment when they'd seen the last of Jones and his ship.
The stairs leading below deck groaned with each step, and she walked cautiously, avoiding a plank that looked rotted enough to give out under her weight. Shouts and laughter echoed loudly down the hall from the galley, the most lively she'd heard the crew since they'd left Storybrooke. Maybe it was just Jones' presence that kept them quiet and cowed the majority of the time.
She spotted the door to the crews' quarters, pushing it open with as little sound as possible. Small portholes near the ceiling gave off just enough light to mark the outlines of several sleeping figures.
Belle was snoring loudly on a cot in the corner, her arms tucked around a thin bit of canvass that served as her pillow. Her parents were sharing a hammock that looked too small for the pair of them, curled around each other even in sleep, while Regina had apparently claimed the cleanest-looking cot, adjacent to Henry's.
She made her way inside, the creaking of the ship masking her footsteps. She paused a few feet from Henry's bed, the tightness in her chest easing a bit at the sight of him.
He was peaceful in sleep, his face free of the anger and heartache she'd grown used to seeing recently. She leaned against a blackened wood post, watching his chest rise and fall in time with the pitch and tilt of the ship.
She smiled as he burrowed down into his meager pillow, remembering countless nights in New York when she'd tiptoed into his room after coming home late from chasing a particularly bad skip. She'd leaned against the doorframe and just watched him sleep, so grateful to have him to come home to.
She had a lifetime's worth of memories of him, of his grin when he laughed at her corny jokes, and his enthusiasm as he told her about his day. She could remember being the one he'd run to after a bigger kid had taken his lunch money, the one he'd turned to when kids at school pestered him about why he didn't have a dad, drying his tears with big hugs and promises of ice cream.
Knowing most of those memories were just idealistic fantasies Regina had implanted in her head didn't make them any less real to her. Even without them, she had two years of actual memories with Henry - two years of being the one he came to with his problems, of being the one he trusted above all others.
Of being his hero.
She wasn't self-centered enough to think she was the only hero in his life, the only one who could fix things or make the world easier for him to bear, but ever since he'd knocked on her door on her twenty-eighth birthday, he'd looked at her like she was something special. Like she could do anything. Despite everything they'd been through together, he'd never lost faith in her, never stopped believing she could succeed.
Until now.
The hollow feeling in her chest returned. She dropped her gaze, her eyes catching on Henry's bag, which was lying half-open on the floor of the cabin. A familiar brown book was peeking out of the top, the gilded lettering on the cover just barely visible in the low light of the cabin.
She knelt, gently pulling the storybook free. She glanced up, worried about disturbing the others, but they were all still fast asleep.
She sat back on her heels, flipping through the book until she found the page she was looking for, her heart lurching at the image of her and Killian at the ball.
The last time she'd looked at it, she'd been sitting inside Granny's with her family, fresh off the very adventure depicted, listening to Henry go on and on about how cool it was that she'd actually time-travelled. Her cheeks warmed as she remembered what had followed, finding Killian sitting alone outside, away from the others.
She ran a finger over the outline of Killian's face, remembered his stunned expression when he'd caught sight of her in that red dress. She'd been reluctant to try dancing in it, dreading the embarrassment when she inevitably faceplanted in the middle of the ballroom. But he'd been a great teacher, guiding her through the moves with a practiced ease she envied. As eager as he'd been to return to their timeline, she knew some part of him had enjoyed being the experienced one for a change.
In Storybrooke, he often found himself a step behind the rest of them, confused by modern amenities and forced to ask endless questions about how the simplest things worked. Like Robin, he didn't have the benefit of cursed memories to help him navigate the Land Without Magic, which often left him at a disadvantage. Not that he ever complained about it, always taking her explanations and corrections in stride, but she knew he'd appreciated having the tables turned for once, however briefly.
'Ever since I came to Storybrooke, everything has been about your needs...'
It was just a dream, she berated herself, turning the pages idly. Her eyes caught on another image, this one of Killian and her dad sitting at a campfire. Killian's face was obscured in the shadows of the firelight, but she recognized his outfit, he and David obviously deep in conversation. She frowned - she didn't remember this happening. A quick glance at the accompanying text informed her it must've taken place while she was trapped in the Evil Queen's dungeons.
Emma sat up straighter, a tiny thrill going through her. Killian had glossed over the tale of gaining her parents' assistance in staging the rescue from Regina's castle, but here was a part of him she hadn't had before, however small.
She hesitated, guilt giving her pause. Did it count as eavesdropping if it was in the storybook? Maybe not, but it felt a little weird to read about a private conversation between the two of them.
Her guilt lessened as she remembered that Henry had read these pages a few dozen times already - if Hook or her dad had had any complaints, they probably would've said something. Besides, the thought of getting to soak up this tiny new piece of Killian's past was too tempting to ignore.
Scooting back toward the porthole to make the most of the early morning light, she leaned back against the rough planks of the wall, propping the book up on her knees. Her eyes roamed eagerly over the conversation between Prince David and Prince Charles.
"I don't mean to pry, mate, but you don't exactly look like a man who's doing this by choice."
Her mouth quirked at the irony of Captain Hook subtly encouraging Prince Charming to take a chance on love. She felt the urge to tease David about getting romance advice from a pirate, her amusement dying abruptly as she remembered that she and her dad hadn't really spoken much these last few weeks.
"I once felt as you did, mate. All it took was meeting the right person, and everything changed."
"Princess Leia?" the prince asked. "The one we're rescuing?"
"Aye. I'd go to the end of the world for her... or time."
Prince David smiled knowingly. "And she for you, I take it?"
The man gave a rueful laugh. "I don't know."
A tear fell on the page, blurring David's reply. She wiped it away quickly, not wanting to ruin Henry's book. She brushed the rest of the tears off her face, hating the knowledge that she'd made Killian feel so uncertain about her feelings for him, hating that he'd ever had cause to doubt that she cared as much as he did. Rationally, she knew that a lot had happened since their trip to the past, but some things hadn't changed much.
Killian had always been the open one in their relationship, laying his heart out for her to take or leave time and again. He'd shown his feelings for her over and over, in words and in actions, giving up his ship - his home - to help her while expecting nothing in return. He'd waited patiently for her to be comfortable with each painfully slow step of their relationship, never pushing her before she was ready. He'd listened to her, supported her, taken her rejections and insults in stride, never once letting them remove him from her side. He'd always put her first, even when it cost him.
And in return? She'd pushed him away again and again, using everything from her son to her family to her status as Saviour as an excuse to keep him at arm's length. Even after she'd realized how strong her feelings for him ran, she'd only been able to confess she loved him when she'd thought she was about to lose him.
She could remember clearly the muted disappointment that had flickered across his face when she'd chickened out on telling him the first time, but he'd quickly pasted a smile on his face, silently assuring her that it was fine. He didn't mind. Things could move at her pace, like always.
'Everything has been about your needs.'
She took a deep breath, blinking back another round of tears. Dream or not, the words still stung.
The ship rocked violently, sending the book sprawling across the floor. The others shot awake, shouts of alarm filling the cabin as her dad instinctively reached for his sword.
"What-?"
"ALL HANDS ON DECK!" Jones' deep voice boomed through the ceiling.
Emma gripped the nearest post, startled, as another blast shook the ship, knocking Henry out of his bed. Her eyes met her mother's for a panicked second, her own worry mirrored back at her as the hollers of the crew grew louder.
What the hell was happening?
* * *
Note: All credit for the dialogue between Killian and David in the Enchanted Forest goes to the OUAT writers.
Thanks for reading!
Author:
batgurl88
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Killian/Emma, Regina/Robin (background), Belle/Gold (background), David/Snow White (background)
Summary: Killian pays the ultimate price for Emma's actions as the Dark One - his life. Now, she and the others must overcome the scars of Camelot to save him, while Killian searches for an escape from the Underworld.
Canon-divergent AU of S5.
A/N: I survived the nightmare week, so I'm hopefully back on schedule now. Thank you to everyone who's been reading and following so far! We're finally at the halfway point.
As always, a big thank you to love-with-you-i-have-everything for the beta!
Chapter Five
Camelot, Week 5
"What do you mean, 'It's not that simple'? You're not going to help us?"
Killian leaned against the wall of the bedchambers gifted to Emma's parents, the pale stone cool against his back. He picked at the tip of his hook with his thumbnail as the others continued their squabbling, feeling oddly disconnected from the debate.
David, for his part, looked ready to grab Merlin by the robes and shake him, were it not for his wife holding him back.
The Sorcerer in question - and what a bloody great use he was turning out to be, after all of the trouble they'd gone through to find him - was unphased, merely shaking his head at the royals' anger.
"The curse of the Dark One is difficult to break," he responded in that maddeningly even tone of his. "Once the person who is cursed begins to crave the power, they cannot be saved, not easily."
"But that's not Emma," Snow White protested. "I know she went too far with Arthur and his knights, but she stopped. She still wants to break the curse, I know it."
"She has tasted what the power can do now - what it can give her. Unless her heart is truly ready to be free, the Darkness will not let her go," said Merlin. "There is a prophecy of a Dark One who will come to power. One who will have the greatest capacity for good or for evil. They will either break the curse forever, or they will become the most powerful Dark One of all time, responsible for the destruction of countless lives."
"No," Henry said firmly, speaking up for the first time. "She's the Saviour. Just because she had one slip-up doesn't mean she's evil. We all saw her give Merida's heart back, and she saved Robin's life. She won't give into the Darkness - she'll fight it. That's what heroes do."
Merlin turned a pitying look on the lad. "Her bloodlust against Arthur was not her only transgression. The power had already begun to turn her mind before then."
"What do you mean?" Regina demanded.
"She took the heart of a young girl this very evening," he answered, his deep brown eyes latched on Henry still. "She used her to obtain the tear of lost love, then willed her to forget the experience."
Killian's thumb caught on the tip of his hook, leaving behind a smear of blood, his veins running cold. He swallowed, staring out into the middle distance, lost in the excruciating memory of a hand plunging into his chest. Of reciting words that belonged to another. Of watching his life from behind someone else's eyes, helpless to stop it.
Beside him, Emma's parents gasped, Snow White grabbing her husband's arm in a forceful grip.
Their pain was nothing on Henry's, his eyes swimming with tears.
"No..." he shook his head, backing away. "No, she wouldn't do that."
"I am sorry," said Merlin. "But you need to understand the enormity of what we are facing. She may not be the Emma you knew, not anymore."
The others were clearly still reeling from the revelation, Regina pulling Henry into her arms as Emma's parents held the sort of silent conversation that only long-married couples could. Killian, for his part, felt strangely numb, a gaping hole where his lungs should be.
"What if we stopped it?" Regina asked. "If the Darkness is pulling at her, maybe we can prevent it from getting any worse."
"How?" said Robin, frowning.
"The dagger," Snow answered with dawning understanding. "If the power gets stronger when she uses it, maybe we can stop her from using more of it - buy ourselves enough time to break the curse."
Killian fought back a swell of nausea, though whether it was the thought of their plan or the fate that awaited Emma that caused it, he couldn't say.
"You want to control her?" he asked, his voice rough from disuse. The others glanced over as though they'd forgotten he was there.
David's face betrayed the same anguish he was feeling. "I don't like it, either," he said. He glanced away, continuing after a moment. "...But if Merlin's right, then Emma may not be able to fight the Darkness on her own. If it's the only way to save her, what choice do we have?"
"But controlling her? Is that any better than what she did?" Belle asked, echoing Killian's thoughts.
"What else can we do?" said Snow White. "She made us promise to save her from the curse, and I refuse to let her become the Dark One that Merlin is talking about. If the dagger can prevent that, then we have to try."
The dagger. A wave of loathing ran through him at the thought of that cursed blade. Not even two months ago, he'd fought tooth and nail against the very idea of them using it on Emma, convinced that defeating the Darkness had to be her decision. But the memory of her face in the courtyard, the way her eyes had lit up with a perverse sort of glee as Arthur writhed on the ground before her continued to haunt him.
A small, guilty, voice within him wondered whether she was even capable of making the decision for herself anymore.
"Will it even work?" Robin asked, directing his question to the Sorcerer. "Will just stopping her from using the power be enough?"
Killian tuned out the answer, his attention shifting to Henry. The lad's face was a picture of devastation, his cheeks wet with tears. He could certainly empathize, his stomach churning with the events of the last few hours.
He stared down at his hook, remembering the way Emma had revelled in holding the lives of Arthur and his men in her hands. The way she had looked up at him afterward, as though he were a beloved pet who Arthur had threatened, her eyes still bright with power. She had been a stranger to him in that instant - no hint of the woman he loved behind those familiar green eyes - just another Dark One in a long line.
He knew from experience how darkness could twist one's thoughts, take hold of one's doubts and insecurities and refuse to let go. Killian loved Emma with all of his heart, but everyone had weaknesses and she was no exception.
Already, she had told him of the Crocodile haunting her steps, of the voices that whispered her deepest fears while everyone else slept. He had more faith in Emma than in anyone else alive, but the curse of the Dark One was the most powerful magic in existence. How long could she honestly hope to hold out against it? How could they stop it from invading her when none of them could see the things she saw?
The others continued their debate without him, his presence ignored as they argued over the best way to save Emma from herself.
Killian remained quiet, ashamed of himself for wondering if it was already too late.
* * *
The Underworld, Present
"Hook? Is it really you?"
Killian blinked a few times, still unable to believe his own eyes.
"Aye, it's me," he replied unsteadily, bewildered.
He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. The man standing before him wearing a faded burlap tunic and worn trousers that were patched and caked with dirt was indeed Neal. He was dressed much as he had been when Pan's curse had returned them to the Enchanted Forest, his messy hair longer than usual. Except - Killian blinked - the clothes were fading before his eyes, slowly being replaced with the gray shirt and jeans he recalled last seeing him in at the hospital, the burden of firewood in his arms vanishing from existence.
"It's really you." Neal sounded just as astonished as he felt, apparently failing to notice his changing attire.
"Aye," Killian repeated, at a loss for what else to say. He glanced at their surroundings in confusion. "I don't understand. Is this the Enchanted Forest? How did we-?"
"Not exactly," Neal answered, a strangely vulnerable expression washing over his face. "We're in the Underworld. This is my, uh, my punishment."
Killian frowned, looking around again. It certainly felt real enough, the sights and sounds exactly as he would have expected.
It occurred to him, suddenly, why the Forest had looked so odd to him. It was as it had been centuries ago, when Killian had first come across Neal's family. Vaguely, he wondered if this was some sort of memory of Neal's, though that wouldn't account for why Neal still looked like his adult self.
"What…" he trailed off as the forest began to fade just as Neal's clothes had, the bright light of the sun dimming into a familiar green hue. Moments later, they were standing in a cavern much like the one Killian had just left.
"It happens when someone gets woken from a punishment," Neal answered the question that had been on the tip of his tongue, though the response raised only more questions in his mind. Killian was tempted to ask after the nature of Neal's punishment, but something in his expression made him think better of it.
"What are you doing here?" asked Neal.
"The same as you, I expect," he said, feeling out of sorts at the unexpected reunion.
Neal frowned, taking in his face and appearance.
"No offense, but you don't look like you died of old age."
"Sadly not," said Killian, the notion finally managing to shake him from his stupor. "My soul was taken by a fury - the price for the Dark One to obtain ultimate power, apparently."
"My dad did this?" Neal asked, his eyes widening.
It seemed that Hades and the judges were the only ones aware of the happenings in the land of the living, then. Killian was tempted to brush over the question, certain the answer would not be well received, but Neal deserved an explanation of the events that had unfolded in his absence.
"Rumpelstiltskin isn't the Dark One anymore. The Darkness was overtaking his heart, so the Sorcerer's Apprentice pulled the curse from him to save his life. Unfortunately, that set the Darkness free to inhabit another."
"He's- he's not the Dark One?"
Neal's voice shook as he spoke, and Killian did not envy him the confusing blend of emotions he must have been experiencing, given the complicated history between father and son.
"I spent so many years wishing I could rid my Papa of the Darkness," he said softly, shaking his head. "But it's been so long, I barely remember what he was like before. I can't even imagine what he'd be like now."
"I'm afraid I can't tell you much," Killian said regretfully, wishing he could offer some measure of comfort. "He was in a coma for several months after the Darkness was removed, and he and Belle went missing shortly before the fury attacked."
Truthfully, even if it weren't for the coma and disappearance, he wasn't sure he would have had much information to provide. He and Rumpelstiltskin would likely never be close, given the centuries of history between them, dark curse or not. Most of Killian's concern over the matter had been for Belle's sake - he'd seen how deeply she'd been affected by the events of the past few months, and how draining the experience of her husband's return, betrayal, and subsequent coma had been on her.
Still, he and Belle rarely discussed her marriage, except in broad terms, and he doubted he would've gone out of his way to seek out the other man's company even if he hadn't been missing. As sorry as he'd felt for Belle, some part of him was still angry with Rumpelstiltskin for forcing Emma to take on the Darkness in the first place. Had it not been for his selfishness, she never would have had to sacrifice herself.
Even now, knowing that things weren't really that black and white, he couldn't deny the seed of resentment toward the man for leaving her in that position.
Neal was staring off into the distance, a myriad of thoughts evident on his face. He shook his head again.
"Wait, so who's the Dark One now?"
Killian grimaced, though he'd known he would have to explain eventually.
"Without your father's heart to tether it, the Darkness was free to roam to another victim. It went for Regina at first, but Emma thought she'd have a better chance of fighting it off-"
"Wait, Emma's the Dark One?" Neal cut in, panic in his eyes.
"Aye," Killian replied grimly, strangely relieved to hear his own worry reflected back at him. "She made us promise to break the curse, but I died before we could succeed. When I last saw her, she was preparing to kill Merlin and take his power. I need to get back to her before she does something she'll regret."
Neal was nodding along as he spoke, running a hand over his mouth.
"Yeah. Yeah, if you only just died, there's gotta be some way we can get you back there..." he mused to himself, his brow creased in thought.
Killian raised an eyebrow in spite of himself. "You'll help?"
It wasn't that he thought the other man heartless, but he did expect himself to be rather low on the list of people he'd be eager to assist.
If Neal took offense to his surprise, he didn't show it, his eyes scanning the walls of the empty cavern.
"Yeah, of course," he said distractedly. "I grew up with a Dark One for a parent. The last thing I want is for Emma and Henry to go through the same thing."
He shook his head. "Only problem is, I'm not really sure how to get out of the Underworld," he admitted, spreading his arms. "I mean, this is pretty much all I've seen since I've been down here. There were other souls around when I first arrived, but other than the judges and the weird bird thing that brought me in here, I think you're the first person I've talked to since I got my punishment."
Killian nodded, all too familiar with the loneliness of the Underworld himself. "Aye, I gathered there aren't many opportunities for interaction with the outside world here."
His words seemed to give Neal pause, a contemplative look spreading over his face. "Unless you're Hades," he said thoughtfully. "He always knows what's going on topside." He glanced up at Killian, a small but growing smile on his face. "I heard these other guys talking about it when I was waiting for my punishment. Hades has this reflective... pool - lake - I don't know, but it's something he uses to scry. Apparently, it can show you anything - it's how he keeps tabs on what's happening in the land of the living. Maybe we can use it to show you a way out of here."
It was as good a plan as any, and far better than Killian's earlier strategy of wandering until he happened upon an exit. Hope blossomed in his chest - it was far from a sure thing, but it was one step closer to getting him back to Emma.
He indicated his agreement, a grim sense of determination settling over him.
"Well, what are we waiting for, man?" said Neal, gesturing back the way he'd come. The jet-black door was just visible across the dimly lit cavern. "Let's go."
Killian hesitated, a sober thought occurring to him.
"Hades may not like you helping me," he said slowly, his optimism beginning to fade. As desperately as he longed for the assistance and the comfort of a familiar face, the last thing he wanted was to put anyone else in harm's way. Hades, for all of his apparent friendliness, seemed like the type to bite when crossed. "Are you sure you want to risk it?"
Neal waved off his concerns.
"What are they going to do, kill me more?" he dismissed, shrugging. "I'd rather get a few extra years tacked onto my sentence than go on knowing Emma's stuck as the Dark One. Besides, our chances are probably better together."
Killian ducked his head, determinedly burying the rush of happiness and regret that always seemed to surface in Bae's presence. He knew the other man's willingness to help had little to do with him, but selfish though it was, he couldn't deny that he was grateful for his company.
"Very well," he said brusquely, heading for the door. "Let's be off."
* * *
Emma sighed as she burrowed down into the couch cushions, her head tucked against Killian's shoulder.
Her brother cooed softly in his crib before falling silent, thankfully still fast asleep. He'd been quiet most of the night, waking only briefly to take his bottle. It was the most uneventful night of babysitting duty she could remember in a long time, and she was more than grateful for the excuse to relax.
"Happy, love?" Killian asked, his voice rumbling beneath her ear.
Her smile widened as she turned her face into his chest, pleasantly sleepy. She could feel him chuckling softly at her actions, his hand rubbing along her upper arm.
"Very," she mumbled, her eyes drifting shut. Her parents weren't due back for another few hours, and she was planning to spend all of them right here. "I vote we never move from this spot."
"As long as that's what you want," he replied easily. "That's all that's ever really mattered, isn't it? What you wanted."
Her brow furrowed, her tired brain struggling to process his statement. "What?"
"Ever since I came to Storybrooke, everything has been about your needs," Killian explained in that same casually unaffected tone. "And I let it happen because I didn't have anyone else - you were my whole world. I suppose that's why it was so easy for you to use me."
She drew back as though she'd been slapped, the bottom dropping out of her stomach. She turned to face him, her chest constricting painfully. "I didn't use you!"
He smiled back at her, his skin pallid in the yellow light of the loft. "Dark Ones always use people, love. But you were doing it long before you grabbed that cursed blade. Perhaps that's why the Darkness took you so easily - it knew the kind of person you truly were."
Her heart lodged itself in her throat, a wave of nausea rolling through her. Killian's eyes were sunken now, deep purple bags circling them. "Why are you-"
"But then, you've always been best at putting yourself first," he interrupted softly, his voice sounding strangely distant now.
"That's why I used to love you."
Emma shot awake, her heart racing. It took a moment for her sluggish brain to catch up to her surroundings, slowly recognizing the steady creak of the Flying Dutchman as it rocked on the waves. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, rubbing the sleep away.
Her back gave a twinge as she stretched, a painful reminder that sleeping on a pile of old sails in the corner of the deck probably wasn't her smartest idea ever. Truthfully, she hadn't meant to fall asleep, the pre-dawn light streaming across the deck suggesting that she hadn't been napping for long.
She still felt like she could lie down and sleep for days, but as exhausted as she was, she could never seem to manage more than a few hours at a time.
At least she wasn't alone in that department. They'd discovered shortly after they'd departed Storybrooke that undead pirates weren't big on sleep either, Jones' crew prowling the ship day and night without rest.
The crew had quieted down as the sun set, but most had ventured off to the galley - to drink and gamble the night away, if her past experience with pirates was any indication - which had left the crew's quarters conveniently empty for their use. The others had all turned in early, but she'd stayed above deck, watching the sun disappear over the horizon.
She was regretting the decision now, the echoing loneliness from her dream making the empty deck feel all the more isolated.
She stood gingerly, casting a wary eye to Davy Jones who was still at the helm, just barely visible in the dim light. He'd hardly moved from his post the entire trip, his eyes on the sea, silent other than to bark the occasional order at his crew.
His dark eyes met hers with unnerving accuracy, now. She fought back another shiver, instead making her way across the deck, feeling his gaze on her as she walked. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on her, already looking forward to the moment when they'd seen the last of Jones and his ship.
The stairs leading below deck groaned with each step, and she walked cautiously, avoiding a plank that looked rotted enough to give out under her weight. Shouts and laughter echoed loudly down the hall from the galley, the most lively she'd heard the crew since they'd left Storybrooke. Maybe it was just Jones' presence that kept them quiet and cowed the majority of the time.
She spotted the door to the crews' quarters, pushing it open with as little sound as possible. Small portholes near the ceiling gave off just enough light to mark the outlines of several sleeping figures.
Belle was snoring loudly on a cot in the corner, her arms tucked around a thin bit of canvass that served as her pillow. Her parents were sharing a hammock that looked too small for the pair of them, curled around each other even in sleep, while Regina had apparently claimed the cleanest-looking cot, adjacent to Henry's.
She made her way inside, the creaking of the ship masking her footsteps. She paused a few feet from Henry's bed, the tightness in her chest easing a bit at the sight of him.
He was peaceful in sleep, his face free of the anger and heartache she'd grown used to seeing recently. She leaned against a blackened wood post, watching his chest rise and fall in time with the pitch and tilt of the ship.
She smiled as he burrowed down into his meager pillow, remembering countless nights in New York when she'd tiptoed into his room after coming home late from chasing a particularly bad skip. She'd leaned against the doorframe and just watched him sleep, so grateful to have him to come home to.
She had a lifetime's worth of memories of him, of his grin when he laughed at her corny jokes, and his enthusiasm as he told her about his day. She could remember being the one he'd run to after a bigger kid had taken his lunch money, the one he'd turned to when kids at school pestered him about why he didn't have a dad, drying his tears with big hugs and promises of ice cream.
Knowing most of those memories were just idealistic fantasies Regina had implanted in her head didn't make them any less real to her. Even without them, she had two years of actual memories with Henry - two years of being the one he came to with his problems, of being the one he trusted above all others.
Of being his hero.
She wasn't self-centered enough to think she was the only hero in his life, the only one who could fix things or make the world easier for him to bear, but ever since he'd knocked on her door on her twenty-eighth birthday, he'd looked at her like she was something special. Like she could do anything. Despite everything they'd been through together, he'd never lost faith in her, never stopped believing she could succeed.
Until now.
The hollow feeling in her chest returned. She dropped her gaze, her eyes catching on Henry's bag, which was lying half-open on the floor of the cabin. A familiar brown book was peeking out of the top, the gilded lettering on the cover just barely visible in the low light of the cabin.
She knelt, gently pulling the storybook free. She glanced up, worried about disturbing the others, but they were all still fast asleep.
She sat back on her heels, flipping through the book until she found the page she was looking for, her heart lurching at the image of her and Killian at the ball.
The last time she'd looked at it, she'd been sitting inside Granny's with her family, fresh off the very adventure depicted, listening to Henry go on and on about how cool it was that she'd actually time-travelled. Her cheeks warmed as she remembered what had followed, finding Killian sitting alone outside, away from the others.
She ran a finger over the outline of Killian's face, remembered his stunned expression when he'd caught sight of her in that red dress. She'd been reluctant to try dancing in it, dreading the embarrassment when she inevitably faceplanted in the middle of the ballroom. But he'd been a great teacher, guiding her through the moves with a practiced ease she envied. As eager as he'd been to return to their timeline, she knew some part of him had enjoyed being the experienced one for a change.
In Storybrooke, he often found himself a step behind the rest of them, confused by modern amenities and forced to ask endless questions about how the simplest things worked. Like Robin, he didn't have the benefit of cursed memories to help him navigate the Land Without Magic, which often left him at a disadvantage. Not that he ever complained about it, always taking her explanations and corrections in stride, but she knew he'd appreciated having the tables turned for once, however briefly.
'Ever since I came to Storybrooke, everything has been about your needs...'
It was just a dream, she berated herself, turning the pages idly. Her eyes caught on another image, this one of Killian and her dad sitting at a campfire. Killian's face was obscured in the shadows of the firelight, but she recognized his outfit, he and David obviously deep in conversation. She frowned - she didn't remember this happening. A quick glance at the accompanying text informed her it must've taken place while she was trapped in the Evil Queen's dungeons.
Emma sat up straighter, a tiny thrill going through her. Killian had glossed over the tale of gaining her parents' assistance in staging the rescue from Regina's castle, but here was a part of him she hadn't had before, however small.
She hesitated, guilt giving her pause. Did it count as eavesdropping if it was in the storybook? Maybe not, but it felt a little weird to read about a private conversation between the two of them.
Her guilt lessened as she remembered that Henry had read these pages a few dozen times already - if Hook or her dad had had any complaints, they probably would've said something. Besides, the thought of getting to soak up this tiny new piece of Killian's past was too tempting to ignore.
Scooting back toward the porthole to make the most of the early morning light, she leaned back against the rough planks of the wall, propping the book up on her knees. Her eyes roamed eagerly over the conversation between Prince David and Prince Charles.
"I don't mean to pry, mate, but you don't exactly look like a man who's doing this by choice."
Her mouth quirked at the irony of Captain Hook subtly encouraging Prince Charming to take a chance on love. She felt the urge to tease David about getting romance advice from a pirate, her amusement dying abruptly as she remembered that she and her dad hadn't really spoken much these last few weeks.
"I once felt as you did, mate. All it took was meeting the right person, and everything changed."
"Princess Leia?" the prince asked. "The one we're rescuing?"
"Aye. I'd go to the end of the world for her... or time."
Prince David smiled knowingly. "And she for you, I take it?"
The man gave a rueful laugh. "I don't know."
A tear fell on the page, blurring David's reply. She wiped it away quickly, not wanting to ruin Henry's book. She brushed the rest of the tears off her face, hating the knowledge that she'd made Killian feel so uncertain about her feelings for him, hating that he'd ever had cause to doubt that she cared as much as he did. Rationally, she knew that a lot had happened since their trip to the past, but some things hadn't changed much.
Killian had always been the open one in their relationship, laying his heart out for her to take or leave time and again. He'd shown his feelings for her over and over, in words and in actions, giving up his ship - his home - to help her while expecting nothing in return. He'd waited patiently for her to be comfortable with each painfully slow step of their relationship, never pushing her before she was ready. He'd listened to her, supported her, taken her rejections and insults in stride, never once letting them remove him from her side. He'd always put her first, even when it cost him.
And in return? She'd pushed him away again and again, using everything from her son to her family to her status as Saviour as an excuse to keep him at arm's length. Even after she'd realized how strong her feelings for him ran, she'd only been able to confess she loved him when she'd thought she was about to lose him.
She could remember clearly the muted disappointment that had flickered across his face when she'd chickened out on telling him the first time, but he'd quickly pasted a smile on his face, silently assuring her that it was fine. He didn't mind. Things could move at her pace, like always.
'Everything has been about your needs.'
She took a deep breath, blinking back another round of tears. Dream or not, the words still stung.
The ship rocked violently, sending the book sprawling across the floor. The others shot awake, shouts of alarm filling the cabin as her dad instinctively reached for his sword.
"What-?"
"ALL HANDS ON DECK!" Jones' deep voice boomed through the ceiling.
Emma gripped the nearest post, startled, as another blast shook the ship, knocking Henry out of his bed. Her eyes met her mother's for a panicked second, her own worry mirrored back at her as the hollers of the crew grew louder.
What the hell was happening?
* * *
Note: All credit for the dialogue between Killian and David in the Enchanted Forest goes to the OUAT writers.
Thanks for reading!