A/N: I give up on titles. Shoot me a message if you think of one for this fic because we all know I can't. Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated.
When the darkness was vanquished, it left a shell of Emma Swan. She tried to be the version of herself from before and sometimes she was. But the healing and accepting was slower than she was willing to let on. Reality was worse than the nightmares that plagued her. For the most part, she kept herself together, a fake smile to mask the crack in her voice as she apologized over and over again to everyone: Merida, Gold, Belle, the dwarves, her parents, Henry, Killian.
Her parents. Henry. Killian.
She flips her hair over and back, pulling it in a tight pony and cupping the running water in her hands to wash her face. The warmth is overshadowed by the filth she feels inside, although she finds solace in the appearance of being clean and the tingle on her skin.
But as she looks up, blonde hair reminiscent of her time as the Dark One, her mind slips back to the when her every action hurt those she loved, caused by the darkness she was enchained in. It's like the buildup finally rupturing as the memories surface with a new intensity that almost knocks her to her knees. She can feel Killian come in then, wrapping his arms around her stomach from behind and resting his chin on her head. He's her balance when her legs falter, soaking in the silence as their reflections speak for them through her tears that are no longer contained and the melancholy furrow of his eyebrows.
The noise lodged in the back of her throat escapes with a high pitched wail that doesn't sound nor feel human, the reflection staring back at her blurred in droplets that streak down her face and make the lights glare. "I'm sorry." She can feel the words richotte in her chest, the quiver of her body only temporarily stilled by the hand on her shoulder.
"I know." He moves his hand, the gentle callous of his finger brushing the round of her cheek with a sad smile. "You're beautiful, Emma."
She wants to laugh at that but when she opens her mouth, it's a choked sob that suffocates her airways. How can he look at her and see anything but a monster, the one she allowed herself to be, the one she choose to be? His eyes shine with forgiveness that she cannot reciprocate and the soft kiss to her head speaks of a love she doesn't deserve. His dark t-shirt, which was big on him to begin with, swallows her. She can picture herself hiding in it, sinking to the ground to bring her knees to her chest and stretching the fabric to let it confine her.
But she can't hide from herself and the regrets she carries like bricks atop her shoulders. She goes to release her hair from the elastic that ties it too tightly and exposes too much, only to be stopped by the curve of shiny, cool metal. "Leave it."
"Why?" She turns into his hold, directing her gaze at him instead of their mirrored images.
"I think it might help, to see that you're not that person." he says, running his fingers down the gathered locks. She can feel the worry in his eyes without looking, how they search her own with a quizzical expression and come up empty. "Talk to me, Em."
Her breaths are shallow as she combats the emotions that threaten to bury her, battling whether or not to spew out the truth she doesn't want to believe. "On your ship, you said-"
"I said what needed to be said to save you. I loved you. I still love you, I will always love you."
"I manipulated you. I used our love as a weapon."
"Nothing you ever do is going to change my feelings for you," he counters, hook finding the small of her back. Drowning has always been portrayed as something loud and noticeable, but Emma can feel herself sinking with a slow and quiet agony, smothered by the sincerity in his voice and worry that outlines his features. It's overwhelming, just how much he loves her, continues to love her when she feels so undeserving of even the life she has. The anxiety slowly building in her chest is coiling with guilt and shame that cloaks her.
"But I'm a monster."
"I felt the same before I met you. You're not a monster, Emma. You got caught up in the darkness but now you've come back to me." Killian whispers, thumb gently tracing her jawline. She rests her forehead against his and tries to even out her breathing, stop the steady flow of tears that accompany his vows. "I love you - every single part of you."
"I don't. I don't love me anymore."
His lips find hers in a gentle caress, tongue skimming the surface and filling the crevices the darkness left with light, suturing the chasm in her heart and healing with each inhale as he pulls her into him. She can feel the adoration that radiates from him, seeping from the tenderness of his kiss and his single tear that mingles with her own. He breathes new life into her with the slow desperation in which he pulls away, hand tracing her hairline and traveling down her neck. "I love you, Swan. You have taught me how to move past my many years of mistakes. And I intend to do the same for you." His words are warm against her skin, whispered fractures filling the small space between them.
He's her tether to the light that feels so distant. She's still drowning, suffocated by the sins and the love that moulds her. But his touch gives her hope and the flutter of her heart seems to sync to his own as he catches a teardrop with his mouth, heads pressed together and her arms wrapped securely around his neck. And for now that is enough.