The Girl that I Adore
"So sorry, Dearie, but you're too late," Gold cackled as the fine powder that five minutes before had been Killian's heart slipped through his scaly fingers. "I suggest you learn to live without your pirate, just as you learned to live without my son. There's no coming back from where he's gone."
"NO!" Emma screamed, running to Killian, cradling his lifeless body within her arms. Tears ran in rivulets down her face as the crushing grief descended on her like a blanket.
Emma woke with a start, heart pounding, breathing ragged. The dream had been so real! As she opened her eyes, she half expected to find herself in the backroom of Gold's Pawn shop, the pall of death hanging in the air.
For a moment she was disoriented in the pitch black room, and then she heard it, the soothing crash of the waves upon the shore, and she relaxed. She was home, in her own bedroom, in her own little apartment by the sea. She'd moved in two years ago—just after Rumplestiltskin's duplicity with the sorcerer's hat had been discovered. She would never forget the panic she'd felt as she raced to the Dark One's shop, desperate to arrive in time to prevent the son of a bitch from murdering the man she loved.
She'd thought she'd lost Killian at first. Rumple squeezed Killian's bright glowing heart until he fell limply to the floor. Emma had reacted instinctively. Marshalling all her strength, she'd shot a burst of magic at Mr. Gold that was so strong it knocked him unconscious to the floor. Emma pried Killian's heart from the imp's hand, but it was still.
So still, so lifeless.
Emma felt a fear stronger and more potent than any she'd ever experienced as she gently, lovingly cradled the heart—the heart that she knew belonged entirely to her. Desperate, she placed it back within the shelter of his chest.
Nothing happened.
"No," she whispered brokenly, shaking him. The anger came next. "Don't you dare do this to me, Killian Jones! You told me you were a survivor; you told me I didn't need to worry! That damn well better be the truth, you stupid pirate!"
He remained motionless.
The tears welled within Emma's eyes and spilled over. This couldn't be happening! She loved him! She loved him with every fiber of her being, and she'd never even gotten the chance to say the words to him.
True Love's Kiss can break any spell. She heard the words as clearly as if they'd been spoken. A wild hope welled up within her. Was it possible? Was there still a chance to save him?
Possible or not, she had to try. Emma leaned down. "I love you Killian; please, please come back to me." She rested her lips against his, and suddenly a rainbow tinted pulse radiated from them to encompass the entire room.
"Swan?" he'd croaked, reaching up to cradle her face. "Is it you love?"
She'd crushed him to her, crying and laughing. "Who else do you think would give you true love's kiss, you idiot?"
A particularly strong gust of cool, salty air blew in her window, bringing Emma back to the present. It was cold. Trust her crazy pirate husband to insist they sleep with their window open no matter how cold it got.
"There's nothing like the murmur of the sea to lull you to sleep, lass," he'd insisted the first night they'd spent together in her apartment—their apartment. "It's as soothing as a lullaby; next best thing to sleeping on a ship."
She'd given in of course. When she thought of all he'd done for her, all he'd given up for her, she could hardly refuse him this. Emma smiled, love welling up within her. She turned over, hoping to burrow into her husband's warmth, but she was met with empty sheets.
"Killian?" she called into the quiet bedroom.
No answer. She felt a moment's alarm, still in the grip of the nightmare's terror, and then she relaxed. If she knew her husband, and she most certainly did, she knew exactly where he must be.
Emma eased open their bedroom door and tiptoed across the hall to the tiny little room where the newest member of the Jones family resided. Eva Ruth Jones, named for her two maternal great-grandmothers had come into the world two months ago yesterday. The moment the nurse laid her in her father's arms for the first time, it was clear. That little six pound bundle of joy had completely stolen her father's heart.
The sight that met Emma's eyes as she silently pushed the nursery door open, brought tears to her eyes. Killian sat in the wooden rocking chair, little Eva cradled lovingly in his arms. Emma leaned against the doorjamb and watched.
"Hush now, little love," Killian crooned gently, "you don't want to wake your mama. Bad form, that. You've led her a merry chase these last few weeks and she needs her sleep."
Eva stilled, her fussing forgotten. She trained bright blue eyes on her father, and he leaned down, brushed fine wisps of blonde hair aside, and gently kissed her forehead.
"Papa's here, my lamb," Killian continued, "but it's long past time for you to sleep. Perhaps a lullaby's in order."
Killian began to sing, his pleasing baritone as smooth and warm as a mug of cocoa on a cold winter's day.
"Fair thee well, my lovely Eva
A thousand times adieu
We are bound away from Storybrooke
And the girls we love so true.
We'll sail the salt seas over
And we'll return once more
And still I live in hope to see
My little girl once more.
You're the girl that I adore,
And still I live in hope to see
My little girl once more."
Emma slowly backed away and eased the nursery door closed, the last vestiges of her nightmare disappearing in the sweet ache of love she felt for her little family. Storybrooke may be crazy with a different psychotic villain showing up just about every week, but Emma Swan Jones wouldn't trade her life for all the money in the world.
Notes: So there I was, minding my own business, trying to get some things done that I haven't managed to do during the insanely busy week I just had, when a vision of Killian Jones singing his baby to sleep danced in my head. Despite the fact that I really should be practicing Christmas music or balancing my checkbook or doing laundry, my muse would not let me be until I'd written this little scene.
-The song Killian sang to baby Eva was an actual Irish sea shanty called "Holy Ground." (Yes, I actually did research; I'm a nerd like that.) I obviously changed some of the words to fit the situation at hand: The girl's name was Dinah, not Eva, and the sailor was heading out of Holy Ground rather than Storybrooke. If you want to hear how it sounds, check out this video: watch?v=YE0ernCTDFY. The sound quality's pretty poor, but it'll give you the basic idea.
-Are you ready for the midseason finale on Sunday? I'm conflicted. On the one hand I CAN'T WAIT, because it's going to be amazing. On the other…after we watch it we'll have to wait two and a half months until the next episode!