It's been a while since I have written anything on here. So before you read this, let me just state very clearly, this is SAD. It's not a happy romantic fic, but does sort of have a happy ending.
It's based off a short story called "The Loving Request of Divorce." I've changed a few things to suit my version, so I'm not sure if you have read the original or not, but anyway, here you go…
One Last Request:
"I want a divorce."
Emma Jones looked up from her spot on the sofa, as her husband of five years, Killian Jones, strode into the living room, loosening his tie. The words should have shocked her, broken her heart, but they didn't, because deep down, Emma knew this had been coming for a while, but a few small tears leaked from the corner of her eyes.
"Oh come on, Emma. Don't play sad housewife now. You know this has been coming for a while. We haven't been right for a year, and you know that I have another woman." Killian spat, glaring at her.
Emma sighed and stood, a bit shaky on her legs. "I know this has been coming, but I guess part of me always thought we would work it out, Killian."
Killian rolled his eyes, and grabbed a glass, before pouring himself some scotch. "Don't be naïve, we've been done for ages. I was just waiting for the right moment to announce it. I have all the divorce papers ready to go. You will sign them, won't you?"
"On one condition." Emma whispered, stepping towards him. "For the rest of the next seven days, you carry me over the threshold of our once shared bedroom like you did on the night of our wedding."
Killian looked at her as though she was insane. "Don't be ridiculous, Emma. I barely live here anymore."
"Then I won't sign them then." Emma argued, placing her hands on her hips. "That's my term for me signing them. You don't have to give me money, or the house. I'll take what I own and be gone. No arguments or ugliness needed."
Killian nodded. "Fine. Do you want me to carry you now?"
Emma shook her head. "Starting tomorrow when I get home from work. You finish work before I do, so you can meet me here."
"Fine, but I'm still staying at Milah's."
…
The first day was awkward. Emma arrived home from work looking tired, and Killian thought this was crazy. Why should he have to carry his soon-to-be ex-wife over the threshold of their once shared house, up the stairs and to their old bedroom? Her arms were wrapped around him, like they had been on their wedding day, and her breathing was relaxed. His grip was nimble, and one slight movement from Emma, he was sure to drop her. He didn't breathe a word the entire time as he struggled up the stairs, and once at the top, he quickly made his way to the bedroom, kicked the door open and dropped her on her feet straight away.
"Thank you." Emma whispered.
Killian didn't even look in her direction as he left the bedroom. Moments later, the front door slammed and the sound of a car engine roared into life.
….
The second day, Emma was tired herself. She'd had a long day at work, been shouted at by her boss, and she wanted nothing more than a long soak in the bath tub. Like yesterday, Killian was leaning against the side of the house, watching as she walked down the driveway, struggling to keep her balance in the tall heels she always insisted on wearing. Killian rolled his eyes as she stopped in front beside him, allowing for him to lift her into his arms, her hands clinging onto the shirt he was wearing.
"Can you draw me a bath today?" She whispered, as he started ascending the staircase.
He grunted a small response, and like yesterday, he quickly left her in the bedroom, and moments later the sound of the bath running filled her ears, and his footsteps retreating down the staircase.
…..
The third day, Killian was the one to have had a bad day. He'd had a fight with Milah that morning, and she still hadn't returned any of his phone calls or texts. Emma this time, had more of a spring in her step as she walked towards him, a ghost of a smile fluttering over her lips as he swept her up in his arms. Unlike the last two days, he actually spoke to her.
"What are you happy about?" He asked, as she held onto his shirt tighter.
"I got a promotion." Emma answered. "I was really hoping I got it as well."
"Congratulations."
It was the most civilized conversation they had had in two months. Emma didn't have to ask him this time. He ran her bath, before leaving.
….
The fourth day, Emma arrived home with another man, and Killian watched as the two made their way down the driveway together, ignoring the fowl feeling which had built in his stomach. The man Emma was with, left her a couple of metres away from Killian, kissed her cheek, before disappearing back into his car.
Emma stood momentarily watching him, who was a stranger to Killian, before turning to him. Killian held his arms out for her the first time, allowing for Emma to walk into them, which she did so, a soft smile spreading across her face.
"Who's that?" Killian asked, as he walked into the house with Emma, clutching her tighter than he had done for the past three days.
"A friend." Emma answered, who he noticed wasn't holding him as tighter as she previously had been doing.
Killian made slow work of the stairs for a change, suddenly more concerned that he could drop Emma. At the top of the stairs, he moved at a slow pace to the bedroom, before pushing the door open, not putting her down until he was in the centre of the room. Emma smiled softly at him, before heading over to her dressing table, beginning to take the plait she had in out.
Killian lingered in the middle of the room for a few moments, before moving to stand behind her, and taking over. Emma's eyes closed as she allowed herself to bask in the small bit of intimacy Killian was giving her for a few moments, before he seemed to realize what he was doing and quickly exited the room.
….
The fifth day, Emma found herself holding onto him tighter, knowing that after this one, they only had two more days before this would be over. Killian was holding her a bit looser again, but every so often, Emma would sense his eyes on her and she would blush. Once in the bedroom, he set her down on her feet, before pulling her into a proper hug. Emma stood frozen for a few moments, before slowly returning his embrace.
"I'm sorry for how I treated you." Killian whispered, before pulling back and leaving her alone once again.
For the first time since he had started carrying her, Emma cried.
…
On the sixth day, Killian held her the closet he had held anyone in the past year. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, and her face was nuzzled into his chest, the smell of rum, sea salt and leather filling her nostrils. They were quiet this time as he carried her to the staircase, up the stairs and into the master suite.
Only this time, Killian didn't put her down on her feet for quite some time. Instead, he decided to continue holding her, until his legs grew tired, and then he simply sat on the edge of the bed with Emma on his lap. She told him she loved him and always would, and he didn't say anything in return, only hold her tighter. It wasn't until the sound of his phone ringing, and Milah's name flashing on the screen did he leave.
…
On the seventh day, Killian realized that Emma was the only one for him. He loved her, and he had never stopped loving her, and he found that there was nothing more he regretted in his life, then treating Emma they way he did.
Killian knew their marriage would take a long time to fix, and that Emma might not ever forgive him fully, but she still loved him, as he did with her. Breaking up with Milah was nothing but a screaming match, and her throwing things at him, until he was forced to retreat from the house.
It didn't matter that he had a nasty purple bruise forming on his head from where a glass jar had hit him; he still entered the flower shop on Seventh Street, and ordered a bunch of Emma's favourite flowers, white lilies. The shop assistant, as she always did with every customer, asked if Killian would like a message to be written on the card.
"I'll carry you over the threshold until death do us apart." Killian responded.
The shop assistant simply smiled.
Half an hour later, Killian waited out the front of Emma's house, a hopeful smile written across his face, clutching the bouquet of flowers tightly.
…..
On the seventh day, Emma Jones was killed in a head on collusion with another car on her way home. She didn't suffer. She died instantly on impact.
….
On the eighth day, Killian Jones placed the white lilies in a vase next to Emma's place in the hospital morgue. He held her cold, bruised lifeless hand in his, the tears falling from his face.
From his own stupidity, he had robbed himself of his time with Emma, and he would go to his grave never forgiving himself.
…
Killian died at the age of seventy-nine in his sleep. He was found the next morning by his caretaker at Storybrooke's Old People Home.
He was buried a week later next to Emma's gave.
….
When Killian's eyes opened, he knew he wasn't in his bed, and more importantly, he was young and in his late twenties again. The room he was in was bright, and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to his surroundings.
"Hey stranger."
He sat up instantly at the sound of her voice, and his eyes rested on a twenty eight year old Emma, who looked exactly the same as he had last seen her.
"Emma…" He moved off the bed, instantly wrapping his arms around her.
"Took you long enough to come back to me."
Killian watched as Emma pulled back and looked into his eyes.
"You have all eternity to carry me over the threshold." She whispered.
"Good."