Denouement
Being on Charon's boat is nothing like being on board the Jolly Roger. On the pirate ship the deck rolls and rocks with the waves, demanding a strong stance and a good pair of sea legs to stay upright. This boat scarcely seems to ride the water at all. It skims the river, and being its passenger feels more like gliding or hovering than being in a watercraft. Emma did not imagine that it would be so still. But as she stands at the prow of the boat, the ferryman hooded and silent just behind her and nothing but mist before her, she can only just make out the waters of the Styx lapping against the hull, and beyond, from that far shore that they are fast approaching, she can hear nothing.
She turns behind her to look at her family, and they are as silent as she is, squinting with a mix of curiosity and determination at the blankness before them. None of them know what to expect, or even whether they'll be able to trust their own senses, but as she looks at them, meeting each pair of eyes with a wordless nod, she does not detect fear. She knows that they believe in her, that they trust her and have faith in her confidence. Because she is confident, for once – maybe for the first time in her life she is certain that she will succeed. She will find him.
"Emma?" She turns and sees that her mother has made her way to her side. She manages a glimmer of a smile.
"Are you okay?'
"Yeah. I'm just ready to be there. I want this done."
"You're not worried?"
She shakes her heard.
"Because if you are, we'd understand. We all know this won't be easy, but we want you to know we have faith in you. You led us before, in Neverland, and didn't steer us wrong."
"It means everything to me that you're saying this, but something tells me this won't be anything like Neverland."
"I know."
"For one thing, we don't have someone with us this time who knows the terrain like... like he did."
"Oh, Emma! I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's my fault he's down here."
"Emma..."
"And that's why I'm going to fix this," she continues. "I'm sick and tired of this mess. It's a mess I've made and I'm going to make it right, once and for all."
"I didn't mean to try and dissuade you, earlier. I'm sorry if it seemed like I was."
"It's okay, I get it. You're my mother, you want to keep me safe. I would have done the same thing if it were Henry." She looks over her shoulder at her son, talking quietly with David and Robin in the stern. "If I had any sway with him, that is." She raises an eyebrow, half in annoyance, half in admiration for the boy who against the wishes of both his mothers is with them on this most risky of missions, who would brook no refusal, who stated point-blank he would come along any way he could. His defiance was frustrating, but Emma could not – cannot – fault his good intentions.
Mary Margaret follows her gaze and smiles. "He's a lot like you."
"I know."
"I just want you to know I'm proud of you. We all are. You're not giving up on love. You're fighting for it, for yourself."
"And for Hook."
Mary Margaret nods. "And for Hook."
Emma sighs. "Look, Mom, I'm grateful that you're here. You're risking everything to help me, and I know I stand a better chance because you're all with me, but do you have to do it only for me? Can't you do it just a little bit for him too?"
Her mother shakes her head, confused. "What do you mean?"
"You're helping to save him for my sake. But doesn't he deserve saving for his own sake? I know he was a villain, I know he did terrible things. But he's done good things too, heroic things. He saved Dad's life, he saved me when he brought me back from New York, he protected Henry, he almost drowned trying to protect my magic! He saved all of us in Camelot and he gave his life to save everyone in Storybrooke. He's done more saving than I have and he's not even the Savior! I'm just asking, when will it be enough? When will you see him the way I do?"
She can see the defensive look appearing in her mother's face, but it softens almost at once.
"Emma, no one will ever see him as you do, you may as well know that now. But that doesn't mean no one else cares. I admit, your father and I had our reservations, and maybe we haven't been as vocal about our support as we should have, but his acts haven't gone unnoticed. We have seen, we have noticed, and we do understand what you see. Hook loves you. He loves you in a way I've wanted for you your whole life. With depth, with selflessness, with constancy. With honor. So yes, we are doing this for you. But we're doing it for him too, because we know he is worthy, but more importantly, because he is family, and this is what our family does. We save each other."
Emma thought she couldn't shed any more tears. She thought that the past 24 hours had drained her dry, but her eyes prickle at her mother's words, and when Mary Margaret falls silent and Emma clutches her close in a hug, she can feel them running down her cheeks – fresh tears, but tears of gratitude and relief instead of sorrow.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. No matter what happens, no matter what awaits us, we are all behind you and Hook one hundred percent."
Emma sniffs and blinks her eyes clear. She pulls away from her mother, and for a moment looks her deep in the eyes. "It's okay. You don't have to worry. I'm not worried."
"You're not?"
Emma shakes her head and says, simply, "I love him. I love him more than anything. And that cannot be for nothing. I'll find him. I believe. I believe my heart will be strong enough for both of us."
Mary Margaret smiles, and Emma sees tears in her mother's eyes. "That's my girl!"
It's true, she isn't worried, even though she has no idea what will happen when they reach the shore, or what they'll find there when they do. No, she feels no gulping anxiety or tremble of nerves, but there is a fluttering beginning in her stomach, a lightness there, a buoyancy that speaks of anticipation. Not of struggle or hardship, though she expects she will meet with both, but of a coming reunion. She names the feeling almost at once. She is excited. She is excited to see him again, hear his voice, hold him, be held by him. She is excited for the press of his lips on hers, for the feel of his fingers laced with her fingers. It has been scarcely a day since she lost him, but it has already been too long. She has lost him for the last time, and when she finds him, when she splits her heart in two and gives him half of herself, they will be bound together so tightly, so absolutely, that they will never be able to lose each other again.
Something has changed. Before, the air was still, but there is a breeze now and the mist is beginning to clear. Emma still can't make out what's ahead but she knows they are close, and she reaches into her pocket for the ring that never leaves her person. It is too big to wear – a man's ring, not a woman's – and she no longer has the chain, but she clutches it so tightly in her hand that it sometimes feels a part of her. Unlike the other talismans she wears, which are more like relics – mementoes of what she has lost – this ring is a symbol of all that lies ahead, all that she has to gain back. It will guide her to that future she desires above all else, to the fulfillment of a promise that she will never break. It led her down here, and it will lead her back, out of Death and back into into Life. Her life. Theirs. She doesn't fear what's ahead, doesn't care what obstacles she'll have to face, because this hope, this life they're going to have shines so brightly. It is worth all the peril that the forces of darkness could devise.
Emma never used to believe in Fate, but now, thinking back, she thinks she is beginning to see its hand in the shape her life has taken. When she broke the curse in Storybrooke, she had thought at the time that that's what everything had been for. And later, when she made her way back to Storybrooke after being swept back in time, she had thought that finding her home, her family, was what it had all been for. But now she knows that she was mistaken. Her life – all the misery of her childhood, all the dangers she's faced, all the betrayals she's endured, all the people that she's lost – has all been for one thing: This. Because of her hardships, she has fortitude. Because of her family, she has faith. Because of Killian, she has a heart so strong that it will beat for both of them. It all makes sense, it all fits together: the fortitude, the faith, the heart that's going to get them – all of them – back home. All the ragged, raw, loose ends of her life begin to weave together in her mind, the dark with the light, the pain with the love, the deepest hopelessness with the highest joy, binding together to form a mesh like steel – or gold. Supple, but strong. She can feel that strength coursing through her, stronger than magic, stronger than darkness, stronger than death. She understands who she is. She is more than the Sheriff, more than the Savior, more even than Emma Swan, and she is doing more than righting an injustice, more than rescuing a lost man, more than keeping a family whole. She is doing more than resurrecting a happy ending. She is making a beginning.