AN: This was written before I saw the finale but based on speculation that Emma would sacrifice herself to save everyone else's happy endings (other than Killian's, of course). So no Camelot, no Merlin and no explanation about the dagger from the Apprentice. All our heroes knew was that someone had to absorb the power of the dagger before the Darkness destroyed Storybrooke.

Emma is sewing by moonlight. She has seen Killian do this before, his nimble fingers creating neat straight stitches with ease. She had teased him then, calling him a regular old Betsy Ross, and he had surprised her by responding that he was hardly embroidering five-point stars. She had underestimated how much he had been trying to adapt to her realm, how many hours he must have spent in the library pouring over history books and how-to guides, learning things others take for granted or have forgotten about. She had also underestimated his relationship with the librarian, Emma thinks bitterly, as she struggles to push the needle through the layers of thick sailcloth.

She had always been underestimating him.

She knew he would try to stop her from absorbing the power of the dagger. She had been prepared for his pleas and even an attempt to wrestle the dagger away from her. She had seen the man behind the pirate for so long that she had foolishly forgotten about his sleight of hand. Especially when that hand wasn't his. (She had ensured his hand was held by hers, close to her heart.)

She had been frozen – fucking frozen – by squid ink thrown by an apologetic Belle. Apologies mean nothing to her because it doesn't change what was done. She was supposed to make the sacrifice, she was supposed to save the happy endings. And she hadn't been able to even move, hadn't been able to do anything, as he took the dagger away from her and told her for the first time (the last time), in the plainest and most powerful words known in any realm, I love you.

Then lightening struck Killian.

There was nothing left of him. No remnant of him remaining – no hook, no dagger, nothing.

He was nothing more than a memory seared into all the places her heart was broken.

She had initially wanted to burn everything so deep was her rage, her misery, her despair. Killian had warned her that darkness could creep up on you but it wasn't even close to that for her, it raged like a wildfire. She didn't recognize the person who pulled Belle down to her knees by her hair. She didn't remember pushing her parents and Regina back with an angry swipe of her arm. She didn't even know she was heading to the Jolly Roger until she got there. In those darkest moments after Killian's sacrifice, she wanted the ship at the bottom of the harbor, she wanted to wipe it all away. She didn't want any reminder of him, of how he scaled her walls and got her to open her heart after so many years lost, only to leave her behind. She wanted any reminder of him gone – like him – so that the remnants of him inside of her heart could burn away too.

But the moment she had set fire to one of the Jolly's sails, her anger flickered out like a candle in a gale and she found herself scrambling to preserve everything that used to be his, everything he once held dear. The Jolly was saved but Emma found herself on the deck of his ship, clutching a half burnt sail to her, feeling like she had lost more of him with the ease she allowed herself to slide into darkness.

So she is learning to repair sails. She had stitched some hand-me-downs back in foster care but she never had the patience to be very good at it. And sailcloth is a much more challenging material to work with. She can almost hear Killian's voice – I love a challenge.

Killian's sacrifice is being heralded by Storybrooke as heroic. Or at least, that's what her parents have told her. Losing Killian can never be a victory for her, no matter how many happy endings he has saved. So though Mary Margaret says that the celebration at Granny's is an appropriately muted affair, Emma does not attend.

The most painful part of it all is that he didn't even think of himself as a hero – he probably thought he was taking the easier path out. He couldn't bear losing her so he lost himself instead.

She wishes she had been able to convince him he was a hero. She wishes she had told him all the things that reside in her heart. She wishes many things. She probably should be wishing he has found peace in death but she can't. Because she wishes he is still beside her.

But she knows about broken dreams as much as she knows about broken hearts and all she can do is keep sewing and hope that one day she can stitch together her broken heart enough to forgive herself for not telling him I love you, I love you, I love you before it was too late.