Hi everyone. Just a heads up: Neverland happened, but Pan died and nobody ever switched bodies. This is for my friend, Whovanger259. She's an awesome person w ho is still learning the art of fanfiction like me, Kat, you weirdo, this is for you.
It's Too Late, I'm sorry I love you.
By Everyone's a Mortal.
For Whovanger259.
"I'd say sweet dreams... but there aren't any left."
~Rise of the Guardians; Pitch Black.
Emma doesn't wake up till Snow shakes her awake. The sun's bright and happy, but Emma is tired. She wants to sleep. Is that too much to ask?
Apparently, yes.
"Emma." Her mother whispers, creeping into the blonde's room, "Emma, wake up."
"Noooo."
Snow grabs a nearby pillow, muttering, "I really didn't want to do this..."
Twack.
Emma gets up, her head a mess, her shirt showing her belly button. "WHAT?"
"Package."
Sighing, groaning, Emma changes and brushes her hair. Then she walks out to the kitchen where Henry is examining the package. "Whatcha doing, kid?" Emma asks, biting into an apple and grabbing a kitchen knife. Charming eyes the knife before going back to his newspaper.
Emma ruffles Henry's hair, and much to the boy's dismay, gets it sticky with apple in the process, "Hey! I just washed that hair!"
"Too bad." Emma says, and Charming cracks a smile. "Morning, David."
"Morning, daughter."
Emma sticks her tongue out at the man, and Snow stands beside her daughter as she rips open the package.
There's no return address, not even a note saying who sent the package, but as Emma explores it's contents, she knows who sent it. There's a bottle of rum with a KJ engraved on the sides. A necklace. A leather coat, sword, and white shirt. Emma realizes it's a package from Hook, though why he's sent it is a mystery. She and the pirate had grown close until a resent dispute. Then he had withdrawn, leaving Emma saddened and confused.
She spots the letter. It's been pushed to the bottom, below a picture of Hook, Emma and Henry on the Jolly Roger. In bold black handwriting -Hook's handwriting- are words that make Emma drop her apple and inhale a sharp breath.
It's too late, I'm sorry I love you.
David stands, seeing Snow's surprise, and Emma's grief. Then he puts an arm around Henry. "Emma?"
But his daughter grabs her red jacket and flies out the door, Hook's letter in her hand, keys to her yellow bug in the other. "Don't follow me!" She sobs as she runs out, and knows Henry will obey, and keep her parents from following.
The ride is so long, so panicking, that Emma runs all the red lights. Cars honk at her as she passes, and one annoying Storybrooke citizen shouts, "What a princess you are!"
Finally, she arrives at Hook's boat, jumping out of her bug, not bothering to lock it. The letter pressed against her body tightly, the sun shining down on her, Emma sprints, the air escaping her, the fear enveloping her.
Hook wouldn't commit.
No.
No.
He's too sassy. He's too sarcastic. He still hasn't killed Gold. No, he can't be gone, Emma tries to assure herself. But his message is overpowering her thoughts.
It's too late, I'm sorry I love you.
His smile haunts her as she runs onto the ship. "Hook?" She cries. "Hook? Hook!" Desperate, panicked, Emma shouts something she never thought she would.
"Killian! Killian? Killian!" She looks around the ship, sun warming her face, bright and happy, while she is confused and angry. "Please..." She whispers. The waves make their steady sound, but suddenly a man appears behind Emma.
She feels his eyes on her, and turns. There stands Hook, his hair a mess. He wears nothing but a white, old-fashioned shirt with ruffled sleeve ends and his pants. He is barefoot.
But this is not what makes Emma scream. What makes her scream is the fact that a knife is implanted in Hook's, stomach, and another knife in his ribcage, right side. Hook smiles at her dimly, his eyes dull. That sarcastic, sassy smile on his lips makes Emma scream all the more.
"Killian..." She whispers.
"It's too late, love." Hook says. His eyes are fading, and he's barely standing. "I'm sorry, Emma. Yes," he says, and pauses. Suddenly he collapses on his back, and Emma runs over to him, ignoring the puddle of blood, and cradles his head in hers. "That seems like a good way to end my life." He finishes.
His eyes are rapidly fading.
"K-Killian?" Emma whimpers. "No, no we can save you. We can. I... I'll call Whale and-"
"Emma, darling. You know it's too late." He smiles at her. His voice is weak.
"But we have to..." her voice breaks, "we have to try..."
Hook laughs, coughing up blood. "Make my last moments good, Emma."
"Why, Hook?"
"The truth?" He cough-laughs again, "No one could see me. You might've been an open book, but not me. I got bloody tired of it, love." He coughs again.
"What were we, Hook?"
"I wanted it to be something... of a... of a... of a love story..." He trails off. His eyes go dim, but his smile stays bright.
"Hook?" Emma asks. "Hook?"
No. She thinks. Her breath catches in her throat.
No.
No.
NO.
"I'm sorry." She says, "I'm sorry. Come back. Please! Come back." On a whim, desperate for her best friend, she kisses him. His lips are warm but fading, and she wishes that she had gotten him for just a little longer.
But deep inside she knows it's too late. True Love heals all, yes, but death is not an illness. Death is a truth.
Emma stays there, holding Hook, for who knows how long. All Emma knows is she can't take her eyes off his face, off the way the sun makes him seem almost alive. Off those lips she had waited too long to kiss. She cannot take her eyes off his dark hair, or his dead eyes.
She cannot take his eyes off him. Finally, tired and grieving, Emma stretches out her blood-covered legs and puts her head on Hook's dead arm.
When she tries to sleep, all she has is nightmares, and a line from Hook's tall tales ring in her ears.
"The young dragon-trainer layed by the dead dragon, his hear sad and heavy. Then the evil magician cackled, 'I'd say sweet dreams,' he said, 'but there aren't any left.' Then the magician melted into the darkness, leaving the young boy wondering, 'How can I know who I am, until I know who I was?' "
Her eyes were heavy, her breath slow, but when she closed her eyes, all Emma could see was the blood on Hook's shirt, and the way his light faded before her eyes.
"How can I know who I am, till I find out who I was?"
~Rise of the Guardians; Jack Frost.
If you haven't guessed, this is NOT a one-shot. I'm making it a three-shot or two-shot. It won't be long. Here you go, Kat. I hope you liked it :)
Sincerely,
Jay.