Part 1

On one of the many realms of the world, a place where there should have been no magic, a young woman lies prostrate over the dead body of her love. Her screams and cries for them to bring him back, for it not to be real, for it to all be a really bad nightmare she'll wake up from soon, all of that has died down. Her throat is scratchy and her nose feels blocked. She can't feel her legs numb as they are from the position she threw herself down in when Killian fell to the ground. Her arms are wrapped round his chest, one hand lightly caressing the scruff of his beard; her eyes never leave his peaceful-looking slacken face as it rests on her lap. He is motionless. He is empty. He is gone.

These last three words break Emma as her sobs start up again. Her face is awash with tears. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She had tied him to Excalibur so that she wouldn't lose him to death like she had Neal, and Graham. Emma cries for her lost love, cries for the future they had only had a few moments together to look forward to. She cries for losing her faith in him back in Camelot when all this time he's the one that has believed in her the most. His faith in her never wavered. She hurt him and he for once hit back with callous words that cut deeper than anything she'd ever felt before. And with that emotional pain from him calling her an orphan and tearing their love apart, she set them on this course. She put her trust in her family over having faith that her Killian was still inside.

"Emma we should take his body away from here," Mary Margaret tells her in a hushed voice. "Prepare for the...funeral," the black-haired princess' voice breaks on that last word as it causes more tears to flow down her daughter's distraught face.

It's only Emma, David and Mary Margaret left by the lake. Regina and Robin had taken Henry away earlier. The teenager, who had lost yet another father figure, had helped Belle to pull Gold to his feet and drag him away from the pain-filled scene. Rumplestiltskin had flinched every time a broken scream had wrenched it's way out of Emma; the sound seemingly following them on their way back to town.

"He's gone," croaks Emma, shutting her eyes and dropping her head to rest on Killian's still chest.

David crouches down and gently pulls his daughter away from the pirate. He tenderly wraps his arms around Emma and rocks her as his own tears fall. Tears of sorrow for his daughter's loss. Tears of regret for not believing in the man he'd come to see as a friend and who he'd finally accepted as being good enough for Emma. Tears of turmoil also roll down his cheeks as he clutches his daughter to him and Mary Margaret joins their embrace. Without Killian's brave sacrifice and his pantomime act the darkness of the Dark Ones would have wreaked havoc on this land.

Killian, once again, had pushed past the need for revenge that had driven him for centuries to stop them from sending souls into hell in order to force open the gates of the Underworld and a chasm of untold power. He had managed to convince them all, even the Dark Ones clamouring inside of him, that that had been his true plan. Even when he'd thrown the glass vial at Emma and the tendrils of darkness had fled her into him they still hadn't given him any trust that he would do the right thing. It wasn't until after he'd goaded Gold into stabbing him with the enchanted sword, and had not moved to avoid the attack, that there was a flicker of uncertainty amongst the group.

Emma had been the first to come to the realisation that the darkness didn't have full control over Killian. David flinches as he recalls holding her back from the pirate and how he, along with Snow and the others, had continued preparing for the worst to happen. Instead the Dark Ones had begun to shriek as Killian held the sword against him. The water in the lake had changed into a carnivorous black hole that sucked and dragged in all the Dark Ones and their darkness. Emma screamed for Killian as the tendrils had been ripped from his body, the agony plain for all to see. Rumplestiltskin had looked on in awe at the Captain's sacrifice especially when he told his enemy "Thank you" before shouting to Emma with his last breath, "I'm sorry. I love you."

"Easy Emma. Shh sweetheart, we've got you," murmurs Snow, bringing David back from the painful recollection; their daughter encased in their arms, shuddering and still whispering in her broken voice, "He's gone."

"What the bloody hell am I doing here anyroads?" glares the pirate as he continues to pace around the cavernous space, as he has done for the last who knows how long frowning over the homey environment that is at odds with the cave-like structure surrounding them and the rivers of molten lava cutting through the stone floor.

"You're here to drink tea and have some iced buns. So sit that prettily leather-clad bottom down on one of my seats and just QUIT BEING SO FREAKING AGITATED! Is it really that much of a thing to ask for?!"

One of Killian's black bushy brows rises as he holds out his hand in a placating gesture and makes his way to the nearest puffy armchair, his blue gaze unwaveringly held on the flamboyant (and somewhat fiercely terrifying) Lord of the Underworld who watches the pirate with his creepy eyes; the whites of his eyes are black whilst the irises are white that almost seem to spin as you look at them. Killian eases himself down into the seat and attempts to relax but his thoughts are flying through his head too fast. He knows that he shouldn't be there; sitting drinking tea with Hades, the Tormentor of Souls. Killian knows that if his plan had worked he should be nothing right now. He frets and worries his hook against the brocade fabric of the seat he's sitting in.

Hades looks relaxed as he sups on cups of tea (his pinky finger all raised out and up correctly like a proper little posh lord) and munches on a whole mixture of cakes and buns piled atop the large blue blown glass coffee table. But then a sound echoes around the silent living room; the sound of fabric splitting apart as a hook rends through the richly woven material. All Killian sees is a sudden flare of flames enveloping the Greek God (appearing to have burst out of him from the pale glow that surrounds his swarthy skin) and his ears continue to ring for several minutes after Hades' profane and incredibly loud shout of pure annoyance.

"Now look what you've done," growls the brunette, running his hands through his short curls as he gets to his feet to see to the cries of the child that have started up.

Killian looks after him, frozen to the ruined chair. He watches on as Hades enters a different room with a crib and gently lifts out a toddler. The image before him is at complete odds over all the rumours he's heard regarding the terrifying ruler of the Underworld and keeper of souls. The god speaks softly to his child and tenderly brushes away her tears. He hums and gently bounces the little curly blonde haired girl until her tears stop and her eyes become heavy once more. Killian stares in amazement, unable to look away from the beautiful sight of father and daughter, as the little girl's eyes droop and her whole body slackens. A few minutes later Hades carefully puts her back into the cot and presses a kiss to her forehead. When he exits the room he leaves the door ajar just in case she should need him again.

"Why I ever think to do a favour for anyone I do not know," Hades mutters once he's somewhat calm again, all the while glaring from his daughter's room to Killian and the hole he's ripped into the seat. "I will answer your questions, lad. But rest assured once that burden is lifted from my shoulders I no longer claim you as my responsibility. You are not my guest, but you are free to wander as you wish. Just don't do anything stupid like falling into the pit or entering Tartarus. No matter what I feel I owe I will not be pulling you back here so that you can be collected. Now be a good little handsome pirate and take a seat on something wooden; I don't care much if you damage those items. And don't make me lose my temper again or wake my Meli up."

"Whilst you're right about the handsome part mate, I can assure nothing about me is 'little'," the dark haired man tells the god with a flash of a grin.

"Oh gods, you're on par with her, or perhaps worse," groans Hades in horror of the idea of someone being worse with innuendoes than his niece. "Try to set all those cutesy innuendoes to the side and get on with your questions."

Three thousand five hundred and thirty-six miles away from the seemingly quiet and idyllic town of Storybrooke, Maine a young woman with cropped bright purple hair - that has lime green streaks running through it - dances provocatively up against a man she'd just met at the bar. She turns to press her back against his front, shimmying her hips against his. Grinning when she feels him pull her closer and the effect she's having on his lower region. But her smile falls when the ink on her left wrist begins to burn. Her hazel eyes shoot around the club until they fall on the strikingly beautiful golden haired woman propping herself up against the bar, unseen by the rest of the club. The woman's rose hue lips curve into a slight smile of acknowledgement as the dancing woman's eyes catch hers.

"Apologies, perhaps another time," the purple-haired woman tells her dancing partner before heading towards her long-time friend.

"Tease," spits back the man in a huff.

His dancing partner comes to a halt, uncaring of the drunken couples dancing and gyrating around her. Anyone that looks at her and sees her hazel eyes shimmer and shine until they look like stars passes the change off as being due to the lighting and the alcohol. The woman continues on with a grin once she hears the masculine voice scream out in pain behind her. She nudges into a space beside her friend and sighs at the look in her blue eyes before turning to the bartender and calling for six shots of vodka in Swedish.

"Seph," the hazel-eyed woman greets before throwing down one of the shots.

"It's been a while since I traversed this realm. And this is definitely not Sicily or Athens," murmurs her friend; her gaze passing over all the people, the lights, the atmosphere and the music. "But in other ways it's very alike."

"Humans are humans wherever and whenever we go," her friend replies, knocking back the third shot. "I pinned a map to a dartboard and let the dart be the divining rod for where I should next go. And here I am. Why are you here? If you're caught fraternising with me…" she trails off, managing to not flinch as she considers the consequence and punishment Seph would face for such a flagrant disobedience of the 'rules'.

"You know my husband would never let them do anything to me," Seph tells her with a secret smile painted on her lips. "You're my friend, Thé. Even though you've changed," she says, her eyes flicking to her friend's hair.

"Don't like it?" she grins, fingering the shorn locks. "Once I was out of Olympus I needed a change. And regarding your husband protecting you, if it's Artemis' turn perusing the realms and she sees this little interaction you could end up with one of her arrows through you before you can even call up Hades. On more pleasant ground, how's my devilish cousin Melinoe?"

"Meli is good. She's started walking and chattering up a storm," smiles Seph reminiscently before returning to business. "I'm here because Hades asked me to come. Even if your sister was to see us Hades' pendant prevents her from being able to harm me."

"Please don't call her that," complains Thé as she finishes her last shot. "Why are you playing messenger for Hades? Surely he could have sent one of his ghouls."

"I do wish you wouldn't call the Guardians of the Souls that," sighs Seph with a roll of her eyes."I'm here because Hades felt the death of a Marked on this realm so he came and collected the soul. Seems he'd carried out a ritual of immortal death."

"His soul would have been sucked in then. Why are you coming to me?"

"Because the soul is one Captain Killian Jones," Seph tells her, her eyes filled with sorrow for the news she's imparting on her friend. "He eradicated the darkness of the Dark One."

"Where is he now?" asks Thé.

"Because of his sacrifice Hades is holding him in our place. For now," she replies meaningfully.

"I'll come get him."

Seph's eyes widen at the implication of her friend's words. For decades, almost centuries, she's avoided all the gods and goddesses of Olympus as decreed by her banishment. To go to the very heart of the Underworld and return a soul to its body will just call attention back to Thé.

"Persephone, it'll be fine. Now where's his body?"

"Here, I snuck it out. Be safe. And wise," her friend tells her, handing over a cloth bag before disappearing.

"Can I get you anything else?" the bartender asks, his eyes not having even seen the buxom blonde in the black and gold peplum - one of the many tricks of being the Queen of the Underworld (that and her conversation with Thé being unable to be overheard by anyone).

"That's me for tonight," she replies with a smile, her attention already turning to the milky crystal she pulls from the bag. "By all the gods," mutters Thé in disbelief as she caresses the soul memory.

Very few know of the magical object that grows in the walls of Tartarus. It allows Hades, and Seph, to copy the memory of any soul in the Underworld into what would seem like an assortment of flickering images and videos. To any unused to the item the memories would pass over the crystal at random. As her trusted friend, and one of Hades' favoured nieces, Thé knows about the soul crystals and so can access the memories contained within in it's proper chronological order. She carefully places the memory back into the cloth bag and slowly makes her way out of the club. Pulling on the thick scarlet red winter coat she huddles into the warmth of the fabric as she clambers through the eight inches of snow stacked on the footpaths to make her way home. Thé allows her gaze to wander over the silence of the cold March night to prevent her thoughts from wandering to all that Seph spoke to her about.

Stockholm at night is a beautiful place. She's been to countless beautiful places in countless realms, but something about the stillness of a quiet narrow Swedish street with the sky inky and all consuming high above, and the amber lights warming the chilly air fills her with a true sense of safety and freedom. The crunch of the snow beneath her knee-high heels brings a smile of childish delight to her pink lips. She never had much of a childhood and never had that sense of pure and utter enjoyment over a simple little thing like snow the way so many human children do. The few people she passes in the street are also huddled up against the cold front still encasing the Scandinavian city, silently trudging through the snow on their way to their separate destinations unaware of the young woman in their midst who had once watched them and sighed enviously over the lives. They simply see another one of them, rushing to get out of the biting cold but enjoying the peaceful frozen stillness of it all at the same time.

Upon reaching her apartment block she pauses and glances down at the ancient tattoo on her wrist. The black lines have once again faded and are returning to a pale blue. She is safe. Seph is safe. She pulls the sleeve of her coat back over the magical symbol and enters the building and her ground floor flat. The golden shield in the doorway slipping easily over her. She throws off her clothes and changes into jogging bottoms and a long sleeve jersey top. Her place is always nice and balmy but she needs the comfort clothes - and the comfort food she thinks as she reaches into her freezer for the vanilla and Belgian chocolate ice-cream.

"Enough stalling," she mutters to herself as she sits cross-legged on the leather sofa eating ice-cream and staring at the cloth bag sitting on her ebony coffee table.

Thé grabs the dagger she keeps on herself at all times and makes a thin long cut across the palm of her right hand before dropping the crystal into the blood pooling. The milky crystal blazes with a bright white light, burning into the wound of her hand and then it changes form. The whiteness of the gem dissipates and it becomes almost as clear as glass. With a sigh she gently cradles it in her hands, ignoring the pain that comes from the wound she made that has been seared closed. Images begin to play across the surface of the crystal from within it. Sometimes sound joins the images other times they're simply snapshots of Killian's life in descending order. Thé flinches when the memories play the long enchanted blade piercing his chest. She cries when she discovers the man he has become in the years since she last saw him. She sets the stone aside and weeps at the knowledge that he had found love again and that Emma Swan was now in Storybrooke alone and without that love.

It takes Thé a few minutes to calm down. She does not pick up the stone again but instead turns on her laptop and finds herself a flight to Boston. She glances at the window when she hears the rustling outside and smiles as she lets in the large snowy owl into her flat. The owl perches on her breakfast bar and gives a soft hoot before continuing to feed on his late night meal. Thé leaves the bird to his food and moves around gathering clothes and items she needs to pack for the flight leaving in several hours. She performs some simple magic to create a passport and visa as well as upon the weapons she may need so that her feathered friend can easily transport them for her.

It's as she's pulling out the leather money bag that she freezes where she stands and the realisation of what she'll be undertaking and asking Emma, and possibly her family, to do crashes down around her. But a single glance at the now clear crystal, deceptively sitting on her coffee table as if it is nothing but a pretty rough cut gem, forces the worry and fear to flee. She owes Killian. She Marked him for this very reason. She will bring him back, no matter the consequences.

A/N: Please review and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!

Due to my illness I do sometimes have issues being able to write on a regular basis. I don't know when I'll get this updated but I just ask for your patience. Many thanks!

~Anna-Margaret

xx