Apparently, I am INCAPABLE of making anything short and sweet. Because this was supposed to be just that - short and sweet. Now here I am, splitting it into two because it has reached nearly 10k words and basically, I AM WEAK. CS makes me weak.
Canon divergence after 4x02 and like, the beginning of 4x03 when Marian gets frozen.
This is my take on Season 4A and while I genuinely love canon 4A (I wish the Frozen gang didn't have to leave!), I was still really hoping for a frozen TLK. Alas, we didn't get it and this story is my closure with that so, I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Though I did take some liberties with the original dialogue and the Snow Queen story by Hans Christian Andersen.
This story will be two parts, maybe three if I can be persuaded (and I am easily persuaded). Part 2 is 3/4 done so, stay tuned.
"You know what to do, honey."
Her mother nods encouragingly so Emma nods back, thinking that if she mirrors Mary Margaret then she'd be able to reflect the hope that shines brightly in her mother's warm, green orbs as well.
She closes her eyes and utters the three little (but really, they're not-so-little) magical words quietly by his ear, praying that that is exactly what is needed to wake him up.
She accompanies it with a kiss that warms her to the depths of her toes and wills that same warmth to transfer to him.
She pulls away after what seems like an eternity (but could have only been a few seconds in reality) and waits with baited breath and a hand to her stomach.
She learns quickly that she will have to wait a long time because Killian remains motionless and she realizes that, like all things in her life, it is not enough.
She is not enough.
They bring him to the hospital immediately after he is struck and whale spends the next 24 hours trying to decipher what is wrong with him while she spends it in various degrees of waiting.
Emma sits.
Emma paces.
Emma asks questions and aggravates the nurses.
Emma even throws up a couple of times.
But she does not sleep nor eat nor cry.
Most definitely, she does not cry.
Crying would mean she has lost hope and faint as it is, it's still there.
Perhaps Whale actually figured out what was wrong with him and is patching Killian up now.
So she hopes.
Her parents take turns throughout the night trying to get her to eat or rest.
"I can't."
"Emma," her father starts tiredly but with much concern. "He wouldn't want you to be this way, not for him." Briefly, she wonders how he knows that; when it is that her father and her boyfriend became so close but she shakes that thought away because now is not the time to have hysterical thoughts.
She knows she's being difficult but she really just can't, "Not until I know he's okay."
She expects her mother to protest but is surprised when she tugs David's arm and says, "Okay then."
"But Mary Margaret-"
Her father looks at her mother and they do that thing where they have a conversation with their eyes and she gathers they understand when her father's shoulders slump over in defeat and he sighs.
"Okay," he nods. "Okay."
So he presses a kiss to her head as her mother gathers her in her arms and they leave because Neal needs attending to and because Emma is tired and just wants to be alone.
When Whale comes out, his face is drawn in grim lines.
And she knows.
"There are glass fragments in his heart Emma and we can't get them out. It's been done in a way where movement of any shard would affect any of the major arteries and result in... immediate death. Physically, he is unharmed. But his health continues to deteriorate so we've put him on life support, which was difficult enough given that it seems, he is actually turning to ice." Whale sighs, something regretful and sad that makes Emma want to punch him because he's giving up, she can see it, but at the same time makes her want to crawl into a hole, curl up and never come out because no way does she want to face the world if it means having to face it without him.
She does neither.
"I'm sorry, but we've done all that we could."
So Emma nods. Emma thanks him. Emma stands and Emma leaves.
And still.
She does not cry.
The first day she and her parents had gone to the library for research, Killian had been in the hospital for two days and Belle thought it might be a good idea to learn of the Snow Queen's origin.
(Elsa had wanted to stay but Emma insisted she not trouble herself, she has already helped her so much crisis-wise and friendship-wise and she needed to go home, you have a kingdom to run though Elsa promised to send word should she come across anything that could help them)
Emma nods her compliance, even if she thinks it a useless pursuit and that it might be more sensible to go to Regina's vault first. The truth is that they have nowhere else to start so, okay, why the hell not?
She half listens to the beginning of the story, exposition never really her favorite part of any tale but she knows it is necessary.
The story is complicated – something about the devil and a mirror breaking, its pieces reaching people's eyes and making them see only what is bad and ugly in everything. At this point, they quickly conclude that a variation of the shard must have struck Killian, courtesy of the Snow Queen.
Then the story moves on to two children named Kai and Gerda who fall in love, until Kai is targeted by the Snow Queen and he falls into the curse, becoming cruel towards Gerda and the people he cares about. He goes on in this fashion until Kai is lured away by the Snow Queen and taken to her palace in a place called Lapland. Then there's something about red shoes and a river, a sorceress and a garden, a robber girl and reindeers, a Lapp woman and a Finn woman and she is so lost but she's not surprised cause she's also not trying. She honestly could not care less, that is until Gerda discovers Kai in the Snow Queen's palace.
Emma cuts Belle off, mid narration.
"How does she break it then, the curse? How does she break it?"
Mary Margaret looks like she wants to scold Emma for interrupting but Belle shakes her head and gives Emma a sympathizing look.
"She…" She pauses, then takes a deep breath as if she is psyching herself up, and looks Emma in the eye. "She gives him a kiss."
And see, some part of Emma had known it would lead to that. When you live in a town occupied by fairy tales and your parents are literally Snow White and Prince Charming, it's hard to imagine any other way to break a curse.
But this isn't a fairy tale. They aren't in the Enchanted Forest. They're in the Land Without Magic, where things are never as simple as that.
She rolls her eyes and mutters, "Right, of course she does," as she places one hand to her stomach and the other to her head to rub at her temples.
She suddenly feels like throwing up.
"Emma," Mary Margaret approaches her to, no doubt, offer her comfort but she flinches away from her touch.
"And we already tried that, it didn't work."
"The story isn't over though!" Belle holds out the book containing the Snow Queen's history. "There's more–"
"No," she replies as turns to leave.
"I've heard enough."
Mary Margaret reminds her daily to believe.
Emma ignores her most of the time because she doesn't need words, she needs actions and she will believe if she actually finds a lead, or even an inkling, as to how to wake him.
But today is an especially grueling day (after a week now) of vigorous research with Belle, David and even Regina in the library and still they have no results… no explanation as to how to break the curse the Snow Bitch had inflicted on Killian. That is why it is here, under the cover of the same blanket they (they being Elsa, her father and Killian) had wrapped her in that first night they met the young queen and the scent of her mother's floral-scented perfume mixed with her baby brother's sweet smell, the one inherent in all newborns, that she succumbs to the words she so usually scorns.
"In what?" She asks.
"In him, Emma, because when has he ever let you down?"
She leans her head against her mother's shoulder, glad for the support but missing the feel of a different set of shoulders – broader, leaner, leather clad shoulders, specifically – all the same.
"Since when did you become such a fan of Hook?" She means for it to come out lightly, jokingly. Instead it comes out hoarse and fragile.
"Since I realized how integral he was to my daughter's happiness."
Emma doesn't say anything but she doesn't deny her either.
Partly because she doesn't know how to respond.
Mostly because it's true.
"You have to believe in yourself too, you know."
She snorts. "Easier said than done."
Mary Margaret wraps her arms around her and lets out a little laugh. "Oh honey, you're a Charming. Giving up is not in your blood, even if you tried. Stubbornness and determination on the other hand…" Emma lets out a little laugh as well because if there are two traits to define her family, it would be those. "Be patient," her mother continues and a pang goes through her when she remembers a time she had said the same thing to Killian and she vows that if – no, when – he wakes up, the waiting will end. "You're not alone and we'll find a way. We always do."
Emma swallows the lump in her throat, nearly gives in to the pressure building behind her eyes and ignores the voice in her head that whispers lie. Instead she burrows her head into her mother's neck and hugs her tight, feeling very much like she is one and not one and thirty and pretending for a moment that she is a child again, wrapped in her mother's arms after having a bad dream.
Because for tonight, her situation is just that – a bad dream. And tomorrow, when she wakes up and heads to Granny's, he will be there with a tantalizing smirk and a sarcastic quip as he readies himself to face the latest danger, with her.
"And Emma?"
"Hmm?"
"Believe in your love."
Emma lets out a shuddering breath.
"Okay," she murmurs, and ignores the voice in her head that whispers doubts because she means it. She means to believe.
And I will, she thinks, I do.
If only for tonight.
Emma sighs and brings a hand up to rub at her temples.
"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you," her mom slightly pulls away from their embrace to look at her face. "You've been throwing up in the bathroom a lot these past few days. Are you coming down with something?"
Emma swallows the lump in her throat and forces, what she hopes, is a convincing smile. "No," she replies with a shake of her head but her mom just gives her a skeptical look and Emma caves. Sort of. "Yes? Well, I'm… just… really stressed, I guess." And once she starts, she can't seem to stop herself, anything to convince her mom that she's okay and not about to break apart at the seams. "I might actually be coming down with something? I mean, the Snow Queen might be gone but the town's still covered in bits of snow so, maybe I am coming down with a cold or… something," she finishes lamely.
Mary Margaret's eyes scan her face in a way that makes Emma want to slam her walls back up because they're too perceptive, too knowing, too… utterly motherly that she isn't used to it. But before she can even place her feet on the ground and sprint (metaphorically, at least) (or you know, not), whatever her mother finds in her face must satisfy her because then her lips are stretched into a discerning smile.
"Right, of course. You should get some rest then." She strokes her cheek, "You'll be okay you know? Just, remember what I said."
No, she thinks. I won't be okay, not if he doesn't survive.
But for tonight, she'll fool herself into believing she will be because she needs to, if she wants to face another day without him.
So yes, she'll be okay.
Just for tonight.
It's funny cause he wasn't even supposed to be there.
The Snow Queen had planned to enact a curse that would turn everyone against each other. She would then use it to create an army and rule the realms. To enact a curse of that caliber, she had needed Emma and Elsa's powers and for the past month had terrorized the town in order to capture them, trapping them in Storybrooke with her ice wall and drowning them in a perpetual winter.
But Regina, Emma and Elsa had finally found a way to neutralize her powers and use them against her. They trapped her in her own castle and used her immobilization to trap her into the urn once more.
But it's hilarious. Really, it is, because in all the hustle and bustle, the excitement of finally, finally having a plan of action and being so close to the end, they–
They forgot the urn.
And just like that, their meticulous plan had gone to absolute dust.
(Who were they even kidding, thinking a plan of theirs would carry out without a hitch?)
Their time was running out, the Snow Queen was already wriggling against her restraints and the immobilization spell was growing weaker with every second gone by and wasted. Just as Regina screamed that they ought to "just kill her and get it over with!" Killian had arrived, her father and mother close behind him, with the urn in his hand.
"Swan!" He shouts and everyone turns to him as he tosses the urn to her.
Emma catches the gaudy object, immediately opens it and points it towards the Snow Queen.
They expect the bitch to scream or fight as she gets sucked into her new prison. But all she gives them is a smirk.
It should have alarmed Emma, she knows that now, but at the time she was too preoccupied with handling the urn and making sure the Frost Bitch actually went in to give her expression much notice.
It is only when the urn is safely closed and everyone is either smiling at her (Regina, however reluctantly), hugging her (Elsa and Mary Margaret) or cheering for her (David) that she realizes that the one voice she is most eager to hear is absent.
All the blood drains from her face faster than any blizzard the Snow Queen could have conjured when she can finally make it out, albeit, brokenly.
"Emma," he whimpers before he falls to his knees.
She scrambles towards him and manages to cradle him in her arms just before he falls entirely to the ground.
"Killian?" She cries. "Killian? What happened?" She cups his face but withdraws abruptly when she realizes it is cold as ice.
The rest of the group gathers around them and she vaguely recognizes her father's frantic tone as he mutters heatedly, "Nothing struck him so I thought he was trailing behind me when Emma trapped the Snow Queen–"
The Snow Queen.
And that's when she registers what that smirk means.
The smirk was a last hurrah, the final damage she could inflict on Emma before she was to be subjected to her prison.
The immobilization spell must have weaned enough for her arms to be set free and that's when she struck him, Killian, who was directly in her line of sight.
Killian's voice breaks through her thoughts.
"Emma, I–"
But the rest of the sentence is drowned out by his cold sigh. His eyes turn from a calm cerulean to a literal icy blue, nearly gray, color before they close altogether and just like that, he fades away.
But her mother emerges to her line of sight, like the sun after an especially rainy day.
"You know what to do, honey."
She does but when it doesn't work, she feels like she could fade away too.
Emma decides that today, after ten days of fruitless endeavors in the library, is the day they begin looking for answers in Regina's vault.
But then you know things have truly taken a turn for the worst when the Evil Queen, reformed though she is but a week-ish ago was mad at you for essentially ruining her love life by bringing her hoodlum boyfriend's dead wife back from the past alive, has taken to offering words of comfort and a – admittedly, incredibly awkward – pat on the back to you.
"Have faith, Ms. Swan. Not even True Love's kiss can solve everything."
Regina's eyes glaze over in a way that makes Emma think that she must be contemplating her situation with Marian and Robin Hood and how… maybe not happy, but relieved Regina must have been when Robin kissed Marian and it didn't work. Then Emma reads the sadness and longing, however brief it flashes, behind her eyes and her heart – for the first time since Killian had fallen into this curse – cries for someone other than herself.
They are both suffering the result of a failed kiss.
Both without their loves.
Both so lost and sad.
"What a pair we make, huh?" Emma says to her, quietly, bitterly.
And cocooned in Regina's vault, where magic runs strong and heavy, she thinks some more.
If True Love, the most powerful magic of all, and she, the product of True Love, can't break Killian's curse…
Then what can?
"Promise me something."
"Aye, love?"
"Don't do anything stupid tomorrow."
He chuckles. "Well, I don't think I can promise that–"
"I'm serious, Killian." She sits up then and he is momentarily distracted when the blankets pool at her waist to reveal her glorious breasts but she tugs the covers around her and it prompts him to look at her face.
"The Snow Queen… we both know what she's capable of. She won't stop till she gets what she wants and she wants me, to help her with her fucked up plan to rule the world or whatever. She's smart and she knows how to hurt me."
Emma's head is bowed, her hair a curtain to shield her face so Killian cups her cheek in an effort to get her eyes to meet his.
"I won't let her," he declares vehemently.
She covers his hand with her own and gives him a watery smile. "I know. Don't think I didn't notice you agreeing way too easily to stay behind. You're planning to follow us, aren't you?" Emma narrows her eyes at his sheepish expression.
"Emma," he starts with a sigh, a grim frown upon his lips. "You have to understand, I can't just sit down and twiddle my thumbs while you battle it out with the Snow Queen. I can help you, if you let me. Don't you trust me?"
"First of all, I won't be alone! Regina and Elsa will be with me. And second, that's what you think this is about, that I don't trust you?"
"You're willing to go into that lair without reinforcements after all and I think that you don't trust my ability to protect you so. Is that not what it's about?"
"Of course I trust you!" She exclaims, her eyes suddenly burning with unshed tears.
Frustrated, he replies, "Then why won't you let me help you?"
"Because everyone I've ever been with is dead!"
Taken aback, understanding dawns on Killian and the furrow burrowed between his brows smoothens and the urge to kiss her takes over him. But before he can act on it, she continues.
"Neal and Graham… even Walsh. I lost everyone." She gulps. "I–I can't lose you too."
"Well love, you don't have to worry about me," and here his lips tip upwards slightly, prompting her to do the same.
"One thing I'm good at," he continues earnestly, his eyes boring straight into hers, "is surviving."
Relief washes over Emma and Killian can no longer deny himself as he cups the back of her head and their lips come crashing together.
The kiss is reckless and passionate and seemingly never ending but Emma slows it down, presses tiny pecks against his lips then rests her forehead against his.
"Promise me, Killian. Promise me you won't do anything stupid," she mumbles frantically against his lips.
She knows he is a man of honor and so she knows he will not make promises he cannot keep so when he says nothing, simply captures her lips in another desperate kiss, she closes her eyes and gives in to the heat between them.
His left arm encircles her waist and pulls him to lay with her. Their kiss breaks and Emma props herself on her elbows and takes the time to trace his features with her eyes, her hands. She traces his brows, the slope of his nose, the rise of his cheekbones and finally, his lips. She breathes him in, his scent, his warmth and something bubbles within her, coating the tip of her tongue.
"I…" she starts, and he quirks that damn eyebrow like he knows what she's going to say and she's going to say it, but the fear creeps in. The lingering doubt that he doesn't feel the same even when she can see it shining in his eyes. But the demons play shadows across her mind so she loses her nerve and instead, kisses the corner of his mouth quite innocently despite the press of their naked bodies against each other.
"I'm a survivor too," she whispers before she pulls him atop her to wrap her legs around his hips, dig her heels into his ass and guide him to where she is aching and wet.
He groans and Emma allows herself to fall into his warmth, to fall for this and lose herself in him because this has always been easy for them. If she can't say the words, she'll show him. She'll brand it in her kisses and in her touches and in her moans.
This isn't the first time they make love, but she'll make damn sure it isn't the last so that when she says the words, it is with utmost confidence and fearlessness.
Yes, she is a survivor and she will live for the chance to tell him.
If only she had made him promise not to follow her instead.
"You haven't visited him."
Emma exits the bathroom and its noisy pipes to her son's disapproving gaze.
"What?"
Henry rolls his eyes. "Killian, mom." He says, like it should have been obvious.
(And given the circumstances, perhaps it should have been)
"You haven't visited Killian. Why?"
Emma closes the door to the bathroom, further silencing the racket emanating from the piping every time anyone pulls the flush then walks to the sofa to take a seat and based on Henry's impatient sigh, she is doing all this with agonizing slowness.
He follows but doesn't sit next to her, opting to stand in front of her and finally, she meets his (critical) eyes and replies, "Well I have been sorta busy trying to find a way to, oh, I don't know... save him?"
"That's a crap excuse."
"Henry!"
"You're avoiding him and you know it!"
She splutters. "I'm not... I'm not avoiding him. I've just been like, really busy-"
"We live in Storybrooke, mom-basically Fairytale Ville. You're not exactly living in the capital of crime here," Henry says, with (another) roll of his eyes. "And ever since you vanquished the Snow Queen, there's been nothing but celebrations all around town so I know that's not the reason you haven't gone to see him."
"Ok, fine. But also, ever since the Snow Queen the hospital's been flooded with patients and volunteers so I don't wanna add to the stress and lack of space over there-"
"Riiiiight, cause staying in a room, out of everyone's way, would be such a hassle for the hospital staff. Uh huh, sure."
"Well," she says with a blush. "I'm buried in paperwork at the station Henry, paper doesn't sort itself out-"
"I know for a fact that Belle and Elsa sorted those files out after you used it. Try again."
"I, I-"
"You are avoiding him, mom and I wanna know why. What's going on with you? Since when did you suddenly stop caring for him?"
"I didn't!"
"Really? Cause from where I'm standing it seems as if you just gave up on him. You don't visit him, you don't call the hospital to check up on him. Grandma and Grandpa go at least thrice a week, Belle goes in to bring him flowers once in a while and Regina comes in a couple times a week even if it is just to check on any changes on his condition or for like, research or something. Then you shrug me off every time I ask if you wanna come with me. You're the only one who wasn't gone to him, mom. You! You're the most important person in his life, you're his true love-"
"BUT I'M NOT!"
At Emma's outburst, Henry startles and stares at her with his mouth agog.
"What?"
She suddenly feels as if she is on the verge of a panic attack-her breathing shallow, her palms sweaty and her vision blurring. But, she has spent the entire time since Killian's incident trying so hard not to burst apart at the seams that she isn't about to start now. It's a close thing but perhaps, talking about it with Henry will ease her burden.
Plus, she could burst at the seams or have the ground swallow her up at this very moment and even then she's pretty sure that wouldn't stop Henry from having this conversation with her. He always was good at getting her to open up, just as good as, well, Killian.
Emma sighs and places her head in her hands.
"It didn't work, Henry. I kissed him, poured what felt like every fibre of my being into that kiss that even my magic called to him, willed him to wake up but it didn't. work. It wasn't enough. I wasn't enough."
She feels a hand on her shoulder and raises her head to see that Henry has sat beside her, a look of intense determination on his face as he takes a deep breath.
"Do you love him?"
Her heart is pounding, the answer clear but the words seemingly stuck in her throat. She stammers, "I-"
She supposes it is clear to Henry cause then he is smiling at her. "Then you are enough." He takes her hands in his own. "You need to go to him and you need to kiss him again."
She gulps. "I can't."
"Yes, you can."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Why are you pushing this?" She exclaims as she stands with her hands on her hips and begins to pace. "Why is this so important to you?"
"Because I know it's important to you." Henry stands too. "Just tell me why you won't see him mom, and I can help you! Let me help you."
So Emma stops pacing and turns to face her son. "I just..." she takes a deep breath and raises her head to the ceiling to quell the tears that threaten to overcome her face, She will not lose it now, not when she's held on for so long. "If I see him, then it'll just be too real."
Henry looks at her confusedly. "What will we too real?"
"The prospect of him not waking up." Her bottom lip trembles with the effort of holding in her tears so she bites it briefly, before continuing. "It's been a month and we're not any closer to solving... whatever it is that hit Killian because that's just it, we don't know anything about it other than the fact that it's freezing him from the inside. You say I need to kiss him again, but Henry, if I were really his true love then shouldn't one be enough? And even if I'm not," she gulps here because the though cuts something deep and awful within her, "I'm the product of true love, my magic should have revived him, but it didn't."
She sighs and gives him a watery smile. "Despite all that though, I haven't given up hope. But if I go there... if I see him on that hospital bed, cursed and unmoving all because I couldn't do my job as the Savior," (the word tastes bitter in her tongue) "then I'm scared what little hope I have left in me, will just be gone. Not seeing him helps me hold on to that glimmer of hope and I can't, Henry, I can't give up on him. I won't."
She wants to tell Henry that she loves Killian and that she doesn't care that she isn't Killian's true love, she just wants him healthy and happy and here and home but it doesn't feel right that anyone else should know of her feelings besides him first so she holds her tongue.
Henry smiles at her though, all bright and dimples, that she figures he can read it on her face anyway. The smile gets buried in her shoulder when he closes the space between them and engulfs her in a warm hug.
"He needs you mom, now more than ever. Who knows, your presence might even help him feel better."
"Dead men don't feel anything, Henry."
"He's not dead yet, mom."
Henry quirks an unamused eyebrow at her, so Killian-like she would laugh if she didn't feel such despair. "You say that seeing him might make you lose hope... whose to say the opposite won't happen? The way I see it now, you need him just as much. Maybe seeing him just might let that hope in you grow brighter."
Emma pulls away just a bit to get a look at his face and the faith she sees glowing in his eyes, that faith in her, still manages to knock the breath from her lungs. "You really believe that?"
Henry rolls his eyes, (a third time! He's definitely her kid) "I've got the heart of the Truest Believer, mom. You really need me to answer that?"
It's Emma's turn to roll her eyes, though her lips quirk upwards in a slight smile.
"Besides, we're the Charming-Swan-Mills family." This earns him an amused snort from Emma, Henry merely smirks as he continues. "If there's one thing I've learned about us it's that we're not into letting things go easily. In other words, we don't like to give up."
"You sound like Mary Margaret," she says, recalling the similar conversation she had with her mother.
He grins. "I guess it just runs in the family."
Silence falls upon them as the smiles fade from their faces and solemnness once again replaces the previously light atmosphere.
"You need to see him, mom."
She breathes in sharply. "But... but what do I do when I get there?"
"I don't know," he replies with a shake of his head. "But I know you'll figure it out."
He pulls entirely from her embrace to grab her coat, which lays draped across the back of the couch.
"Now," he holds it out to her after retrieving it and Emma, as she steps into her coat, marvels at the boy before her who isn't really a boy, not after all he's been through and all he's just said. "Go."
"When did you get so wise?" Emma lets out a laugh as she throws the familiar words at him once more.
"Does it matter? Just," Henry huffs exasperatedly but gives her a knowing and encouraging nod anyway.
"Get outta here."
She's out the door before he even finishes the sentence.
Part 2 will be up soon!