Hey everyone. So this is a oneshot that takes place directly after S4 E19. Contains spoilers for the episode so please watch it first! I don't own the show or the characters, I just think they're kinda rad. Thanks for reading.
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"Emma!"
Mary Margaret Nolan's voice bounced from tree to tree before finally disappearing into the fog. Now, all Emma could hear was the pounding in her chest and the crush of leaves beneath her feet. She sprinted through the wood, wanting to be anywhere but at the edge of that cliff where Henry stood, staring down at the broken being wrapped in black and white fur.
The wind whipped at her cheeks and neck, but Emma did not slow. She weaved between trees and brush. Tears began to blur her vision, and she wiped them away with her sleeve, lungs now burning with each deep breath.
The image of a crippled body bleeding into the earth flooded her every thought. The tears streamed violently down her red cheeks, blinding her, and she lifted her arm to wipe them away again, before smashing into something very solid.
She landed with a thud onto the dirt, sprawled across the ground as the leaves fell, shaken from the trees around her. Sitting upright, she heard a familiar voice beside her.
"Ow. Bloody hell, Swan," he said, gasping for breath, "you knocked the wind right out of me."
The pirate chuckled, right hand rubbing the back of his neck. Emma inhaled quickly, preparing to speak, but once Killian's eyes met hers, he quickly crawled in front of her.
"What happened, love? Did you find Henry? Is he alright?" Deep concern etched lines in his handsome face, as he kneeled in front of Emma.
Her green eyes were wide open, staring right at him, but Killian was unsure if she could even see him or the forest around them. She seemed to be staring right through him, taking short, raspy breaths.
Her breathing slowed, and a soft whisper escaped her lips, "I killed her…"
"Speak up, love. Who? Cruella? Good, the bitch deserved it, threatening to off your boy like that."
He tried to comfort her, but to no avail.
"No. She didn't… And I killed her." Emma blinked back a tear. Killian reached out to her, but she ignored his advance and climbed to her feet.
He grunted and stood. Tentatively, he brushed her shoulder. She turned to him then, breathing more steadily. Over his shoulder in the distance, Emma could see the toll bridge where her parents had fallen in love many years ago. They were so innocent back then, she thought, but not anymore. And neither am I.
Killian sidestepped, directly into her line of sight. "So Cruella is dead. And Henry is safe. That sounds like a victory to me, Swan," he said.
"No!" She shouted, startling the birds in the trees above them. "There's a reason she wanted us to kill the author for her. She couldn't do it herself-"
"Yes, 'cause the bloody crocodile had him."
"No, that's not why she didn't kill him." She sniffled a bit, and Killian leaned closer. "She couldn't. He wrote it." She ran a hand through her tangled blonde hair. "She was powerless against the author and she was powerless against Henry. If I had waited just a second-"
"Emma, please, don't do this to yourself," he said, raising his good hand to caress her tear-stained cheek.
She leaned into his palm and her eyes fluttered closed. Guilt washed over her, crashing against her chest like a tidal wave, and she was helpless, waiting to drown.
"You didn't know. You couldn't have known. Emma, please. This is exactly what Rumplestiltskin wants. He wants you to question yourself, your choices, and your heart." There was sincerity in his voice.
She shook her head, and his hand fell from her cheek. "I'm questioning every choice I've ever made right now. Starting with trusting my parents." She dug her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, and her eyes focused on the ground beneath her boot-clad feet. "I should have pushed her to the side, or pulled Henry to me. I've been practicing my magic; I'm in control. There was a path out of this mess where no one got hurt. And I chose not to take it."
Her gaze shifted back to Killian.
"And I chose to kill."
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The Jolly Roger rocked steadily beneath their feet. The tide of the bay was rather calm at this time of day, and with the sun setting over the glistening water west of Storybrooke, Emma and Killian sat in the captain's quarters of the pirate ship.
The jacket she wore that morning was hanging on a hook on the back of the door, her muddy boots in the corner of the room. Emma sat in silence as Killian wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Her phone buzzed on the wooden table in front of her. A photo of her mother flashed onto the screen.
"Shall I let her know you're alright, love?" he asked, gesturing to the cell phone that was now going to voicemail. Emma nodded. He stepped outside, taking the phone with him, climbing the stairs to the deck above. He pressed redial and waited.
"Emma! Where are you? What happened?" he heard Mary Margaret ask desperately.
"Mary Margaret, it's Killian," he said, and she ceased talking. "Emma is alright. She's a bit shaken up right now, but she'll be fine. I found her by the toll bridge – or, rather, she found me."
"Where are you? I'm coming." She demanded.
Killian climbed up to the forecastle deck, toward the bow of his ship, and leaned against the rail.
"No offence, but I don't think she wants to see anyone right now. Believe me, she will be alright." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was always tense talking to the Charmings when they and Emma were feuding.
"Promise me, Hook. Promise me she'll be alright," she said, worry creeping into her voice, each word shaky as it traveled through the receiver.
"I swear it." He said. And he meant it.
There was silence on the other end, and then a click. Killian put the phone back into his pocket.
"You're right." Emma said, startling Killian. He turned to her, and she shook her head. "I don't want to see them right now."
She joined him at the rail and gazed across the stillness of the bay. Her eyes were red, cheeks puffy, but even so, in the dim light of the sunset, Emma Swan was the most beautiful woman Killian had ever seen. Maybe soon he'd tell her so.
"You want to know the truth, Hook?" she said, and he nodded. "I don't regret it. Not one bit. And that scares the hell out of me." She shook her head, still staring at the sun dipping below the horizon. "He's winning. Gold is winning."
Killian sighed. "Like I've said before, darkness is a funny thing. It will creep up on you and before you know it, it will consume you. Every part of you will become infected; your head, your heart. Emma, love, do not let this taint you."
He reached his hand out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She turned to him.
"You're the bloody savior, Emma! You are the truest, purest, strongest person I've ever met and I'd die before I'd let the darkness consume you. You've saved this town and every single soul in it time and time again, and if that's not a hero, then I don't know what is. You made me change – made me want to change. Made me want to be a better man."
"Killian…" she said softly, his name floating off her tongue so beautifully. Her emerald eyes glistened in the light of the setting sun, and tears began to fill them. "I don't know if I can-"
"I believe in you."
Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she held his hand in hers.
"I love you, Emma Swan."
Her lips crashed against his, their bodies pressing together. Her hand found his collar, tugging him closer. Their lips moved together slowly, passionately, as he pressed his hook against the small of her back.
Emma rested one palm to his chest and wrapped the other around his neck, fingers dancing in the short hairs at his neck, while his rose to the back of her neck, tangling in her soft yellow hair, pulling her closer.
Hearts pounding, heads spinning, their lips parted. A tear rolled down Emma's face.
Killian's hand slid down to caress her cheek. He wiped away the tear with the pad of his thumb, and pulled away, their lips now centimeters apart, noses still touching.
Emma gazed deeply into his crystal blue eyes and smiled. She loved how much his eyes reminded her of the ocean; how bright they'd shine when he was happy, and how they'd turn a shade darker when angry, just like the sea. She thought they suited him well.
They stood wrapped in each other's arms on the deck of his ship, glowing in the last bit of sunshine left.
To her left, the town of Storybrooke readied for the night. Shops closed, and parents tucked their kids into bed, placing a goodnight kiss atop their foreheads.
And to her right stood nothing but the open sea.
In that moment, Emma knew she would be alright.