A/N: HEY! It's been a while since I wrote something (well, a month probably but still). I started this back in October or November but never finished it, and then the finale happened and I knew I had to finish it. As you will know, it's not exactly as the finale that aired but I hope you guys enjoyt it nonetheless!
I ain't no angel
I still got a few more dances with the devil
I'm cleaning up my act little by little
I'm getting there
I can finally stand the man in the mirror I see
I ain't as good as I'm gonna get
But I'm better than I used to be
Tim McGraw – Better than I used to be
He stood in the bedroom, facing a large mirror, sighing as he saw all of his scars across his body and face. Scars of a past filled with darkness and anger, lost in a sea of hopelessness with a heart broken in too many pieces to put together again – or so he had thought.
He had to admit, looking at the man in the mirror now felt hell of a lot better than it did four months before, when all he saw was a man of faults; a man who had killed, who had stolen, who had held a grudge for centuries and who was a pirate.
Looking now, he still saw all those things, but he had also begun to see a very different man; a man of honor, a man capable of love, a man who, even though he was far from perfect, was OK. And it was all thanks to her.
He smiled when she entered his thoughts – which she did about twice per minute.
When he grew up, he thought he knew the man who was supposed to be his father. He thought he knew what to expect, and to be loved just as much as he loved; he had heard wonderful stories about love always conquering in the end, and so he figured that even though life with his father wasn't how he had dreamed it would be, just loving each other would be enough.
When Killian still had been very young, his father had gotten in trouble with the law and they had decided to run away together on a ship. They did not have much, but Killian firmly believed that having each other was enough; his father disagreed.
Killian had woken the next morning to find his father had fled and he learned the hard way that sharing blood with someone did not make them your father.
When he – still not older than fifteen – had found his brother, an empty space in his heart had started to fill again but the pain that had always been there did not disappear. Some nights, when he and Liam stayed awake, they would tell story after story, the next one even more ridiculous than the previous one, Killian almost forgot the pain in his chest. He figured that that was what happiness was supposed to do.
Unfortunately, the pain never had time to fully disappear because Liam died when Killian had yet turned twenty. When he roughly pulled of his jacket in a fit of rage while convincing his crew to rebel against the king, he fought hard to keep breathing. When they sent Liam's body down in the deep blue ocean, he blacked out from the pain and his next memory weren't until some years later, when he met Milah.
Milah. The dreamer. The one who managed to give him full days without any pain at all. The woman who was the light of his life, who made him hope for a brighter future. But she, just like his brother, was taken from him after just a few short years.
When her lifeless body was sent down the same plank as Liam's, he was sure the grief would consume him and the only thing that kept him waking up every morning was the blind rage he felt for the crocodile and his surety that he would one day get his much needed revenge on Dark One.
Enter Emma Swan. How could he ever describe to her what she had done to him and how much she had changed his life just by being there? He was afraid she would never understand it, so he did what he knew every orphan needed; he showed her that he would always be there.
When they got back to Storybrooke after Neverland, Emma never chose between him and Baelfire – whatever was between them just became, feeling like the most natural thing in the world – but one night not long after their return, Killian was about to head out to the Jolly Roger after dinner at the Charming's place when Emma gently put her small fingers round his wrist and whispered, 'Stay'. So he did.
Whenever he was around her in the beginning of their relationship, the pain disappeared completely and only returned when he was left alone. Less than a month later, he noticed he no longer felt it in the presence of Charming, Henry or Snow. A few weeks after, the pain had ceased all together; the relief he felt could not be described in words. Sometime later, he realized why it had gone; finally, he was a part of something, something eerily like a family.
He shook his head as he stood in front of the mirror in Emma's bedroom and wondered what he would do without her as he buttoned his shirt; he turned around when he heard her approaching the door and did not give her any time to say anything, but instead scooped her up in an embrace.
"Thank you," he said as he inhaled her scent in an attempt to never forget it.
"For what?"
"Being you."
She furrowed her brows and made a painful face. "I don't want to forget."
"I have no doubt you will remember. After all, it is quite impossible to forget someone as dashing as I." He grinned widely as he spoke, and tried his best to mask the pain he felt.
His words had the desired effect and she smiled at him, tears welling up in her eyes.
"There's not a day that will go by that I won't think of you," he said after a moment of silence.
"Good," she replied before she had any time to think about it, for once just going along with her heart – she had still not been able to tell him those three little words he told her daily.
They left the apartment hand in hand, slowly approaching the gathering by the town line – all waiting for Emma – and when Killian sensed her doubting, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Saying goodbye was never easy and doing it when you knew you would not be able to see anyone ever again only made it so much harder. When she hugged her parents, tears streaming down her face slowly, she fought hard to keep breathing, knowing who she still had to say farewell to and therefore purposely saving him for last.
He was waiting by her car, his eyes excruciatingly blue in the daylight, a sad smile touching his lips. As soon as she came to stand closely in front of him, he spoke.
"I'm not as good as I'm going to get yet, Emma, but you must know that I am so much better than I used to be, just thanks to you. I will fight through heaven and hell if that's what it takes, but I will come for you. I promise."
Despite the pain she felt, she could also feel her heart swelling at his words, finding it hard to believe that someone loved her as much as he did.
She placed the palm of her hand on his cheek and gave him a feather light kiss. "I love you, Killian."
Minutes later, Storybrooke was engulfed in purple smoke and Emma Swan had no recollection of ever knowing a man named Killian Jones.