Got My Angel Now

by TutorGirlml

When Arthur's treachery puts Emma's life and well-being at risk, Killian will stop and nothing to insure her safety...and there is no one else she could trust to lean on for healing and strength.

So, I started writing this after 5x03, and I know that there are elements of it that have since been disproved or gone another direction. However, I don't think it is so far off as to be unenjoyable, and I'm pretty fond of it, so I'm going to go ahead and post this. I'd love to hear what you think once you've read. The title comes from a line in "Halo" by Beyonce, and the lyrics within are from Christina Perri's "I Believe". I don't own either of those wonderful songs, nor either member of our lovely Pirate and Princess duo. I only want to see them live happily ever after…

"Got My Angel Now"

By: TutorGirlml

They should never have trusted Arthur so blindly. Have they learned nothing yet after meeting so many heroes and monsters of myth and legend and discovering so many to be the opposite of how they are painted in the tales of old? Oh, aye, the royal had been stealthy – welcoming them to Camelot, throwing a grand ball in their honor, knighting David as a brother-in-arms and seating him in the very Siege Perilous once held by Lancelot himself – but it had made them let down their guards…and now Emma was paying for it.

Standing surrounded in the tower room Regina and Belle use as they research and experiment trying to find a way to communicate with and free Merlin, Arthur's treachery suddenly comes into sharp focus for all of them. An entire phalanx of Camelot knights – Dave's supposed comrades – surround Killian, Henry, David, Robin, and Belle (unfortunately Regina is not present to wipe them all out with magic) with swords at their chests or throats, circled closely enough that breaking free or moving to help the last member of their party is impossible.

Arthur himself stands facing Emma, his blade drawn and pointed just above her heart, poised to pierce her chest and make that precious, priceless organ spill its lifeblood and go still. Killian feels himself practically vibrating with rage at the betrayal and fear for her, not to mention the bitter anger he can feel radiating off of the prince beside him, and he reaches out a hand to clutch Henry's forearm, feeling the boy nearly jerk forward to his mother. He doesn't think these men would hurt one so young, but he is no longer certain.

"Now Dark One," Arthur spits, his voice harsh and dark with controlled venom, "you and I are going to the tree. Your magic and the mushroom your noble father so kindly procured for me," here he slants a gaze at Charming, "will show me what to do to free Merlin and to trap you instead where you rightly belong."

Killian knows Emma now possesses enough magic in her little finger alone to blow all these men away, but she holds back, as afraid as any of them that magic use will only continue to give the darkness more footholds in her psyche. She slants her eyes from boldly staring Arthur down to seek his. He wants to tell her to fight, to disappear, escape, and he wishes to know what he can do to comfort her, but the words and the knowledge both escape him. Instead, his only ease is found in knowing that Emma's dagger is nowhere here – not where Arthur can lay his hands on it and control his love. Though he does not know where Snow and Lancelot have taken it for safekeeping, it is at least beyond this broken monarch's reach.

There is nothing to do but watch as Arthur has two more knights bind Emma's hands and force her none-too-gently from the room behind him, the rest of the guard linger menacingly, to be sure none of them can follow or try to help her until they are well away.

It matters not; he will catch up, no matter where they take her. Emma must only hold on, keep her faith…

"I believe in the lost possibilities you can't see

and I believe that the darkness reminds us where light can be;

I know that your heart is still beating, beating, Darling,

I believe that you fell just so you could land next to me.

So hold on, hold on…

Though naught but a quarter of an hour passes before the rest of Arthur's men withdraw from them, it is well into the evening before Killian finds Emma in a moonlit clearing of the dense forest which encircles the kingdom. Their group had split up in the hopes of someone reaching Swan that much faster, once word spread of Arthur's failing to trap the Dark One and how she had used her powers to vanish from his grasp in the courtyard. Killian still does not know what had been done to her before that, but he can only be glad she has outsmarted their treacherous adversary and saved herself. He practically deflates with relief at the sight of her before him, appearing hale and in one piece. He cannot be anything but glad that it is he who will have a moment to himself with his love. It does not matter that it has not even been a whole day, his relief upon seeing Emma again is almost too great to bear. The vision of her before him across the clearing is like the first breath of fresh spring air to his weary soul after too long locked away in suffocating winter. The last few hours he has felt as if he is struggling for breath, consciously forcing his heart not to skip beats in agony and worry for her and what she might be suffering. His joy is great enough to override caution, and he doesn't take in the raw, unhinged look in her wild eyes, nor the way she fairly vibrates with some unknown strain or injury.

The air around Emma pulses with electric energy, and she throws up a hand to ward him off – pulling Killian up short when he feels the force pressing him back. Drawing in a steadying breath and hesitating to truly study her expression of confusion and anxiety, he realizes with a sharp pang in his chest that he is not sure whether she is merely trying to protect him while out of control or if she truly doesn't know him in this moment.

Those lovely, mesmerizing green eyes which never fail to capture him in their depths, flit nervously from his face, to his hand and hook, to her own trembling fingers outstretched between them, to the trees that surround them, and back again nervously – clearly unsettled and pained. Their emerald depths have never appeared so dark before, as if the forces fighting within to color her very mind and spirit are attempting to spread into even the smallest details of her being. His Swan literally shakes even as she attempts to hold herself steady, staring at him over the ground between them. "What are you doing here?!" she demands, looking shaken and angry, but at the same time as if she wants nothing more than to close the space between them, fall into his supporting arms, and hold on for dear life. "I brought myself here for a reason, Killian! I barely got away from them, and I had to use my powers to do it. I can't risk something like that happening again. I'm too dangerous to be near anyone until I find Merlin – and not when Arthur is waiting – and get rid of this, this…thing inside me. I feel it swirling and clawing, even when it isn't speaking to me in Rumplestiltskin's voice, it's trying to break free. So…y-you can't be here! I w-won't hurt you…" Her lower lip trembles, but she looks so firm in her decision and determined to suffer alone in her misery that his heart constricts in pain for her, breaking a bit more at the sight of her anguish.

He cannot bear to see her suffering, to hear the agony in her voice; the yearning loneliness made plain beneath her warning to him make him continue to inch closer to her, regardless of the threat Emma thinks she poses. He had known the wretched feeling of hopeless despair she is feeling all too well himself – for years – until she came along and brought more to his life than revenge, brought back the man of honor he once was. He takes another hesitating step forward, cautiously reaching out for her with a gentle hand and equally coaxing voice. "Easy now, Love," he practically croons. "We can be careful…but you should not – and will not – have to do this alone."

"Please stop!" she cries out, shooting another regretful look of longing at him.

Killian shakes his head, unwilling to let her go on this way, sure that he can help her, soothe her, and ease her pain if he can only reach her. He watches as Emma continues to tremble and shake, but stays still, allowing him to approach, even if she does so fearfully. Finally, the very tips of his fingers graze her cloak, then his whole hand rests on her upper arms, gripping gently as if unsure that she won't still flee from him.

Just as she did in that circle of stones when their whole party first arrived in Camelot, Emma expels a terribly ragged breath and deflates, falling into his arms and clutching his shoulders as desperately as he clings to her. Killian breathes again, having barely realized he was holding it, and smoothing a hand through her hair. He is not at all deterred by Emma's moment of weakness, her nearly unhinged power, nor her fear. He is only glad she has finally reached for him in time of need. He will not give her up; he will find a way to help her, show her he will never fear her – whatever betide – and he will not fail to fight for her against any threat or foe. Watching her battle the Darkness within allows him to see, not her faltering, but even more of her strength. His admiration for her has only grown. No one else could understand the allure of the dark and the valor needed to claw away from it as he can.

'Cause I have been where you are before

and I have felt the pain of losing who you are,

I have died so many times, but I am still alive

So hold on, hold on….

Tenderly, reverently, Killian's hand travels on – down from the silken waves of her golden hair to trace Emma's shoulders, then her back, pressing just enough to draw her closer – only to release her quickly when she cries out in pain at even the slight weight of his hands on her back. She tries to swallow her reaction in the next instant, hide it away, but she cannot conceal the wince that escapes as she curls in on herself protectively, nor that he can see the stiff way she holds her shoulders now that he is looking for it.

His calloused fingers come to cup her strong chin, tilting Emma's face up to meet his gaze, so she cannot avoid his eyes. "Where are you hurt, Swan?" he murmurs lowly, voice rough with concern and desire to help. His words might be soft, but they are taut with worry and anger that these brigands would dare to lay a rough hand on his princess. "What did they do to you?"

Emma shakes her head, pulling away from his cautious grip and biting down on her lower lip in that way she has when trying to avoid baring herself to him, especially if the knowledge he seeks might be painful. "It's nothing, Killian. Don't worry over it. I…I could have healed it already…if I weren't worried about using my magic more than I have already."

Impatiently, he shakes his own head once, frustrated at her stubbornness and unconcern for her own well-being. "It is not nothing, Emma. Of that I am quite sure." His words are clipped with the force of his emotion, accent more pronounced, and Emma feels a shiver skitter down her spine that is as much from attraction as foreboding over what he will do when he sees her injuries. Carefully, but firmly, Killian places both hand and hook on her shoulders and turns her around to face away from him.

For a moment, Emma clutches her cloak about her, trying to keep this revelation from his eyes in one last desperate effort, but when pain lances through her shoulders and she cannot bite back the whimper that escapes her, she knows it is a losing battle. Slumping forward, she releases a sigh and ceases to fight against his gentle determination.

"There now, Lass," her pirate coaxes in that warm burr of his. He barely skims over her form as he unclasps and pulls the cloak away. "Let us see, hmm? Everything will be…" However, his voice chokes and trails off before he can finish his gentle reassurance. A strangled noise in his throat and the sudden heavy tension in the air around them tells her without doubt that once the cloak was off her shoulders the wide neckline and low back of her dress leave the stinging marks on her flesh exposed plainly to his eyes.

Neither of them move for several long, silent moments, and Emma presses her trembling lips together tightly, trying desperately not to let the tears that are welling in her eyes fall. She hisses when the cool metal of his hook gingerly traces the brand burned into her right shoulder, serving to mark her as a witch, and the scattered whip weals she took rather than admit anything about where her dagger was hidden and endanger Merlin and all of them. The lash marks pulse hotly along with the beat of her heart and the blood rushing through her veins. Somehow, though, the tender care in his touch soothes her a bit, and she relaxes, almost sinking to her knees in relief and exhaustion as he continues. Her eyes slip closed, and she nearly feels safe again until he whispers in a broken voice. "Oh, Love, how could they do this to you? …I am so very sorry, Emma."

Her tears do fall silently then, and she turns back to him, wordlessly trailing her fingers across his face, up over his cheekbones, wiping his matching tears away. Shushing Killian even as his shoulders shake with silent emotion, Emma leans against his chest and tries for the first time in what feels like ages to let down her guard and catch her breath at the safety she finds in his arms.

Eventually, Killian pulls back slightly, brushing a loose tendril of her mussed hair off her forehead and resting his hand along the side of her face softly. He shifts to take her hand in his and then leads her to the banks of the small river running placidly behind them. Urging Emma wordlessly to sit on a large rock at the water's edge, he pulls a clean black scarf from inside his long coat, bends to wet it in the cool water, then comes back to crouch behind her. Clearing his throat in a nervous way that warms her heart, Killian asks gently. "Not to be indelicate, Swan, but can you shrug out of your frock for a moment? Hold it up in the front if you wish, but I need to see your whole back if I am to clean your wounds properly."

Emma dips her head, blushing fiercely, and does as he asks, sucking in a sharp, pained breath once more as she eases the material from her shoulders and the movement stretches the torn skin of her back. Finally, she wraps her arms tightly around her torso, holding the front of the dress up and bracing herself. Hissing as the damp cloth first makes contact with the bloody stripes sliced into her pale hide, she tries not to flinch or wince and make Killian's task more difficult; however, she can feel Killian's hesitance and guilt at hurting her more, even in order to help, regardless of how she tries to hold her reactions in.

Slowly, the water begins to ease the enflamed agony and she eases a fraction, feeling a bit like his ministrations are healing her as well as any magic could. The feel of his fingers ghosting over her back and down her arm as he finishes and tells her she can pull her gown back into place remind her vividly of another time so long ago, when he used another of his scarves to bind a wound to her hand, seemingly reading her mind as he did so and seeing the attraction she had felt for him even then simmering under her skin. His care that day atop the beanstalk had made her ache to trust him so desperately, and looking back now, it nearly floors her to realize just how completely she does trust him – so much so that she would place her very life in his hands without question.

Emma feels the warm exhalation of her pirate's breath on her neck mere seconds before he lightly rests his forehead there, seemingly needing merely to hold her as he draws in a shaky breath. They are silent for some time; the running water, bird calls, and scuffling of wild creatures in the brush are the only sounds around them. Finally he eases away and speaks once more, circling to face her as he does so. "Emma, I know you do not want to put yourself at more risk – nor do you want to be forced to use your magic again to defend yourself, or any of us – but you must return with me. We can find some place for you to stay where Arthur and his sorry excuses for gallant knights will never know of your return. You must have some salve or medicine and better treatment than I can offer for those cuts, and especially the burn. I fear it could become infected. Regina will be near enough to guard you with her magic this time, and we will not be taken unawares again. I certainly will not be making the mistake of trusting anyone else in Camelot again."

She wants to argue with him, to be strong enough to stay out here alone and in hiding, but she cannot make herself form the words. In fact, she knows with painful certainty that she cannot bear to have Killian out of her sight right now. Weakened and vulnerable, she needed his comfort and his strength, needs someone with some faith and hope that all which has gone wrong can still work out. Not only will she worry for his safety and the rash action he might take to right the vicious wrongs done to her, but she yearns for his care just now, his steadfast love the strongest thing keeping the darkness at bay even as her situation seems only to grow worse.

I believe that tomorrow is stronger than yesterday, and I believe that your head is the only thing in your way.

I wish that you could see your scars turn into beauty.

I believe that today it's okay to be not okay…

Hold on, hold on…

This is not the end of me, this is the beginning

Hold on…

Later that night, as moonlight filters into the isolated old hunting lodge that Killian and Henry have somehow located in a far-flung corner of the castle's grounds, deserted and dusty from long disuse, Emma wakes from a light doze, still uneasy enough not to sleep deeply, despite her wear and strain. Sitting up stiffly, her eyes search the room, seeking her guardian knight, even as his name escapes her lips worriedly. "Killian?" she asks, a soft, plaintive note in the single whispered word.

He stands quickly from where his lithe form had been curled up on a settee near the window keeping watch, himself bathed in dark shadows and moon glow as he steals across the room to sit on the edge of the bed at her side. "I'm here, Love. Are you in pain? Regina is just outside, I can summon her…"

Emma merely shakes her head, reaching her hand out from under the layers of warm blankets she remembers him tucking around her a couple hours before. Looking up into his fathomless blue, blue eyes, she closes her fingers around his hook, hanging on for dear life. "No, it's not that," she assures him, gazing up into his face, drinking in every perfect, adoring feature as he stares back at her. "I just wanted to make sure that you didn't disappear, that you were still with me…" She trails off, looking sheepish but also honest. They might be more than she would usually say, but she cannot make herself take the words back.

He traces his good hand across her forehead soothingly, then lets his fingers tangle gently in her hair, pulling her up to press the softest of kisses to her lips. "Don't worry, Darling," he murmurs, his caress easing her pounding heart. "It took me centuries to find you. I won't be letting go of my saving grace now. We will put an end to this darkness and treachery. Our love story is only beginning."

And with those words Emma is able to fall back into a healing, dreamless sleep.