The weight of the dagger was strangely familiar in Killian's hand, even as the name etched into it make his stomach turn.
It had been days since Emma had disappeared, since she'd stepped into the darkness and become the darkness, since she'd sacrificed herself without hesitation yet again for the people she loved. He'd called for her that first night until his throat was raw, until David had dragged him inside and placed a bottle in his hand, until he'd pushed him up the stairs and he'd fallen onto Emma's bed. Henry was asleep in the other bed against the wall, and he longed for that small amount of oblivion, the safety of dreams where perhaps Emma would be beside him.
His dreams weren't dreams but nightmares, and none of them were safe.
They hadn't tried to summon her with the dagger since that night, knowing that if she were free to come at their command, then she could come of her free will. He wasn't sure if she was trapped somewhere, or perhaps transported to somewhere that the dark magic wouldn't let her leave just yet, or maybe even stuck in transformation - he wasn't sure how these things worked. The only thing he was certain of was that she wasn't dead, and he found it disturbing that the sight of her name in crooked black lines on the dagger was the one thing that gave him comfort.
But it had been days, and they were no closer to finding a way to find her or cure the darkness inside of her. They only had the name of a wizard who might have a chance of helping them, but no idea where to find him or how to get there or what they'd have to do to save her. He'd told himself that he wasn't going to spend every moment with the dagger in his hand trying to summon her, but he couldn't just do nothing.
He'd wanted to be alone so he'd gone to the Jolly, had tried to reassure himself with the familiarity of the place that had been his home for so long, but now he found that it only paled in comparison to Emma's presence in his life. Going below deck to his cabin, he'd thrown the dagger onto the desk and had refused to look at it for nigh on an hour, putting off the attempt to put off the disappointment.
She'd be here if she could.
Still, he had to try.
Adjusting his grip on the hilt, Killian turned from the window and lifted the dagger into the air before him, tilting the blade so that the moonlight blended with the flickering light from the candles that he'd lit to illuminate her name. 'Emma Swan,' he said, and if his voice held none of its former strength then it wasn't a surprise to him.
He hadn't expected anything, not really, but he couldn't choke down the disappointment when he lowered the dagger and the cabin remained empty. The dagger fell from his shaking hand and he brought it to his face, pressing his fingers over his eyes until he saw white.
'What the hell are you doing?'
For one long moment, he was too afraid to look at her. When he finally remembered how to breathe he dropped his hand and opened his eyes.
He'd expected to be reminded of the Crocodile, had been terrified that he wouldn't see anything of the Emma that he loved in this new Dark One, but he'd been wrong on both counts. She was silver and gold instead of gold and green, her hair piled on top of her head in what looked like a mess of spun gold, her skin shimmering in the soft light in the room. Her eyes... If he didn't look too closely, then he could pretend her eyes were the same. The light in her had twisted the darkness and turned her into something otherworldly and terrible in her beauty.
Despite knowing that she must be alive, and how much it pained him to see her like this, he was overcome with relief to see her. 'Emma,' he began, stepping toward her, reaching for her, but he hesitated when she held up her hands between them, alarm and tension lining her face.
'No, you can't -' She took a step backwards when he moved towards her again. 'Killian, stop! Don't you see how dangerous this is?' Her voice was shrill, her distress obvious, and all he wanted to do was calm her but whenever he made to get closer to her, her face only tightened more. 'There's so much raw power inside of me that I don't know how to deal with yet - I could kill you.'
'I don't care.' Ignoring her attempts to ward him off, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping his tightly around her waist, and it felt like something gave way in his chest at the feel of her pressed against him once more.
(Perhaps it was the knowledge that it wouldn't last but he couldn't think about that, he wouldn't.)
She didn't relax, not even a little, but when her arms slowly snaked around his neck he finally let himself give in to all of the heartache that he'd been trying to smother over the last few days. She felt tough, all hard angles instead of the soft body that he knew, and her skin was rougher now against his cheek when he pressed it against hers, but it was still Emma, she was still here. 'Where have you been?' he rasped against her shirt. 'Why didn't you come?'
'I don't know,' she said, her words muffled against his shoulder. 'I heard you that night, but I was strong enough to push back the darkness and stay away. Every moment I'm around you is tempting fate.'
'And now?'
She was silent for a few seconds, her fingernails scratching the back of his head but he didn't flinch away. 'I'm not feeling so strong anymore,' she whispered, but when his arms tightened around her she pushed back. She was too close now to avoid her eyes, and he felt his chest tighten at what he saw in them. They were unchanged physically, but there was an emptiness in them despite her words, despite her tone, despite all the love that he knew she held inside her. How far down was that buried now? Was that the work of the darkness inside of her, or was that her own doing?
'You can't let Henry summon me,' she said firmly now, her mouth tight and her jaw set. 'It's not safe. And you can't do it again either, you hear me?'
She was so close and the last days had felt so long, he couldn't help himself when his hand slipped up to cup her cheek before sliding around to the back of her head. 'I don't care about safe,' he murmured, ducking his head, closing his eyes and -
'No!' The cry came from Emma but he heard it echoing all around him, the sound ringing in his ears and thrumming through his bones, and he felt a force far more powerful than her usual physical strength pushing him backwards. He stumbled backwards until he reached his desk, his hand grabbing onto the edge to steady himself. She'd retreated as well, her back pressed against the steps that led out of his cabin. Her hands were held up before her in the same stance as when she used her magic, both from pushing him back and, he guessed, to ward him off. 'You can't do that.'
He couldn't kiss her? Setting his shoulders, he took a step toward her, ignoring the way she tensed up again. He was usually more than happy to take her lead in their courtship, but he'd not have thought she'd be so averse to him showing her just how much he missed her, just how much he needed her. Unless she thought that he wouldn't want her like this...
He didn't know how to deal with this, that was for sure, but he'd never not want her. 'Emma,' he said gently, holding his hand out to her in supplication.
Emma shrunk away from him, but then the fight seemed to go out of her as she slumped against the ladder. 'You said that you read Henry's book,' she said tiredly.
'I may have skimmed over some parts,' he admitted, not entirely sure what that had to do with anything. He'd been curious about a lot of things, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to read too far into Rumpelstiltskin's past.
That seemed to be exactly what Emma was referring to. 'Belle kisses him,' she said slowly, 'and he... He pushes her away, but he almost...'
She broke off, looking away, but he was able to tie the pieces together. True Love's kiss can break any curse. 'You think...' He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. The memory was never far from him, the tears on her face, the words leaving her lips and he'd wished for a better moment, he'd wished for the chance to let it sink in, to laugh with her and love her like she deserved to be loved, to give her all of him and hold nothing back. He'd never told her in so many words but he'd clung to the knowledge that she must know.
He'd not wanted that confession to be just for him, to comfort him in her sacrifice, but perhaps they weren't. 'Emma, I -'
'I know,' she said, looking up at him, stricken, and perhaps she wanted more for them, too. 'I know, and I know how I feel, so I can't take the chance -'
'What chance?' he asked bewilderedly, lifting his arms in question. He didn't think anything could distract him from the idea that Emma thought he could be her True Love, but the thought that she didn't want to try it tested that. 'You don't want to take the chance that you could be cured? That this could be the end of it all?'
'But it won't be the end!' she said, pushing herself away from the ladder but stopping just out of his reach, and her eyes were so sad that his hand trembled from the effort to keep it by his side. 'How do we know that the darkness isn't going to burst out of my like it did Gold's heart, and jump into the next closest person? How can I know that it won't try and take over you?' She did reach for him now and he was there before he could think about it, his hand wrapped in both of hers, pressing it to her chest just as she'd done just days ago. And it was torture, to be so close to her, to have his skin on hers, her lips and potentially the end of her suffering just inches from his own. For the first time, he considered going against her will for her own sake, for Henry's, for her parents' - and yes, for his own - but he couldn't take away her agency, couldn't belittle her sacrifice when she'd done it for them in the first place.
'The Apprentice said that Merlin is our only hope to destroy this evil once and for all,' she said determinedly. 'It's the only way. It's safest for all of us if I stay as far away as I can until you find him, so don't you dare call on me again until you've found a way, do you hear me?' Her hands let go of his to rest on his cheeks, forcing his eyes to stay on hers (as though he could look away, with them welling as they were). 'Don't you dare give up, okay?' Her voice dropped to a whisper, but it was just as fierce. 'Don't give up on me, Killian.'
He dropped his forehead to press against hers, threading his fingers through her hair and his other arm around her waist to hold her against him when she tensed and he thought she'd move away. It was the hardest decision he'd ever made, but he finally understood the sacrifice of trying to be the hero. It had been worth it, to see Emma and Henry safe, and he wasn't going to let that be in vain.
'I will never give up on you, Emma Swan,' he promised her, feeling that truth in his very soul, knowing that more honest words had never fallen from his lips. 'Not while there is breath in my body, or beyond. We'll find a way.'
Her eyes slid closed and she pulled him closer. He let his arms tighten around her, burying his nose in her hair and breathing her in. It wasn't the same, not quite, but it was all he had and he'd take what he could. Between one breath and the next she was gone, leaving only air between his arms, and he wasn't sure that he could remember feeling so empty.
'Have hope, Emma,' he whispered, hoping that she could hear him, knowing that she couldn't. 'We'll find a way.'