A Bit of Absolution
By: snowbellewells (or TutorGirlml on )
This one shot was originally written for the CS Storybrook project over the OuaT hiatus this past summer. It's canon divergent from 5x13 or 5x14 and shows something being done that I definitely thought should have happened while they were in the Underworld and once they learned about the position of headstones and their meaning. Still CS all the way, but remembering a beloved past character as well…
Emma Swan charged doggedly through the graveyard on a mission, almost beside herself in her urgency. Unfazed by the reddish sky hovering low around her and the uneven ground, she plowed ahead undaunted, without pause, possible turned ankles or face plants not a concern that registered in her current haze.
'How did I not think of it sooner?' was the thought echoing through her head, bouncing around her consciousness like a pinball game within her skull. Somewhere between returning to the ghastly mockery of the house meant to be she and Killian's in the world above, the loss of Milah and the stunned, robbed look on Killian's face at almost getting to see his first love again, and then hearing Snow's tale of Regina finding Daniel's grave and the good it had done her – one idea had flashed to the forefront of Emma's mind and refused to let go. Of someone else who had been lost too soon and whose fate she had never known…
Out of breath when she reached the far end of the graveyard, Emma turned, anxiously squinting through the ruddy haze and unsure of where to go or exactly what she was looking for. How to begin? Panting heavily, she scanned the space before her, rows of sad, decrepit-looking markers – either cold and forgotten, cracked down the middle, or fallen over on the ground. Finally, she pressed a steadying hand on her stomach, blew out a breath, and simply followed her instincts. The dark trees of a scraggly forest on the border seemed to beckon her, and she picked her way more calmly in that direction.
Then, nearly tripping at an uneven dip in the ground, Emma reached the final row of headstones and a whoosh of air left her lips as she caught herself barely with a hand on the nearest stone, only to glimpse the lettering on another that was lying flat before her. The Huntsman it read in rough block letters that she reached out to trace with stunned fingers.
"Graham," escaped her lips in a quiet breath of relief, even as she wondered if she had hoped it would still be standing so that she could speak to him one last time, apologize for not believing him sooner, tell him how much his support and backing had meant to her, and ask if he was alright. She wanted to know for certain that he had found peace at last, and if not to make sure that they helped him do so. But if he already had, how could she be sorry about that? After all, he had suffered for so long, could she really wish he'd had to languish in the Underworld merely for her to be able to better say goodbye?
Righting herself and attempting to pull her tangled thoughts back together, Emma's surroundings came back into focus when she heard running footsteps pounding up behind her. "Swan!" that lovely, masculine voice whose lilt she cherished beyond all others was calling her name as she sat back on her haunches from where she had stumbled to her knees and brushed dirt off her palms. "Emma, are you hurt? Are you alright, Love?"
Killian was at her side before she could form an answer, sliding into a crouch on the ground at her side, pulling her into his arms and worriedly checking her over for injury. Emma nodded 'yes', shakily trying to assure him that she wasn't hurt, but it didn't seem to break through his concern until she gripped his hand and his hook in hers and leaned her forehead against his to hold his gaze. "Killian, stop. Take a breath, Babe. I'm not hurt, I promise," she soothed, finally easing his fear.
"When I saw you fall…" he breathed out, his usually warm, sturdy voice trembling. "I was afraid something had attacked you or sucked you in…that you would disappear…" For a moment his words died away as he smoothed his hook over the soft strands of her hair, then he swallowed and found his composure to continue. "I realize you probably wanted to be alone, but I was following at a distance. I simply had to make sure you did not encounter trouble."
She blinked, unable to believe this man – rogue, scoundrel, whatever people might at first believe – but beneath it, so caring, so genuine, and always wanting what was best for her, to take care of her, in any way he could. How had she gotten so lucky? Shaking her head, Emma laced her fingers with Killian's and brought their joined hands up to kiss his knuckles. "It's alright. Now that you are here, I'm glad. I just – I hated to ask you to do this with me when…when we can't do the same for you."
He tilted his head in confusion, eyebrow arched ridiculously in that way she couldn't resist. "Whatever do you mean by that, Swan?"
"Well, this grave," she gestured to the whole, uncracked stone lying flat on the ground before them. "It belongs to someone I knew in Storybrooke…someone I cared about who died much too soon…and… well, when I heard Regina talking about finding her Daniel's grave…" she shrugged helplessly, still not quite sure how to put into words what she had wanted, but met his eyes evenly and simply hoped Killian would understand, as he so often did.
Her pirate didn't disappoint, lightly tilting her chin with the curve of his hook and smiling in reassurance. "You realized you could at last put your doubts to rest and find out if this person," he squinted curiously at the stone and then tried the title out, "this Huntsman, has gone on to his reward or if he was still here and in need of our aid."
"Exactly," Emma nodded succinctly; moved to stand once more and took Killian's offered hand to help herself once he had done the same.
"Well," he offered, gesturing to the resting position of the marker, "if her Majesty informed us correctly, he is lucky enough not to be languishing in this infernal realm."
Emma agreed with him, but tried surreptitiously to remove her gaze from Killian's focusing on the block letters of Graham's true identity and hoped it wasn't obvious that she was blinking back tears. 'Didn't he ever have a true name until he was cursed?' he mind cried, right along with, 'Why would he be here?' in a self-chiding of frustration. 'He was honest and good. He thanked you when he died because he knew who he was again. He had his answers and his peace – no unfinished business for Hades to get his claws into. And that's a good thing. What else did you think you could say to him anyway?'
Of course, if she had thought Killian "Quite Perceptive" Jones would miss her turmoil and disappointment, she was sorely mistaken. His hooked arm rubbed gently up and down her arm as if trying to ward off the constant chill that surrounded them in a world Emma would have expected to be burning with fiery heat and brimstone. "You had hoped to see this person, aye?" he asked, already knowing the answer thought he phrased his words in a gentle question. "Wished to speak with him one more time?"
"I know, silly, right?" she shrugged sheepishly, blinking back the few tears that had nearly fallen and effectively holding them off. "I should be thrilled he didn't have to spend any time here…or at least that he isn't stuck here now."
Killian shook his head. "That is not silly at all, Emma. If I could have a moment more to speak to Milah – either here, or as she was dying in my arms all those years ago – to assure her once more that I loved her too, that a part of me will always hold her dear, I would want that dreadfully as well."
He traced his fingertips lightly along her chin, speaking to himself as much as her, but when Emma's eyes flew up to meet his, he stopped, wondering what he had said to cause the look of pained recognition in her gaze. "Wait…Killian…" Emma faltered, gripping his fingers tightly and pulling them from where they rested on her cheeks to press them to her chest. "Milah…she-she died in your arms?"
"Aye," Killian dipped his head, but not before Emma got a telling glimpse at the way the blue darkened stormily with hurt and anger, even after all this time. "The Dark One freed me from my bonds once he had crushed her heart. She was lying on the deck, taking her last breaths to tell me she loved me. There was not even time for me to reply before she was gone. All loving me ever earned her was separation from her boy and an early death."
He started to pull away, and Emma was stricken to the core by the self-loathing in his face, so much so that she lurched forward in panic to grasp his hand and pull him back to her. "Killian, no! You know that isn't true!" she argued fiercely. "Maybe we haven't been over every detail of the life you and Milah shared – and I don't need to know it all. But you saved her from a life trapped and wasted. You gave her love and adventure, and I may have just met her for a moment, but the way she reacted when she learned it was you we were here for, I would say she counted her time with you well worth the cost. Trust me," she added, bring the back of his hand, joined with hers, to her lips and pressed a kiss there, "having the blessing of your love myself tells me just how grateful she must have been."
Killian didn't speak aloud in answer, but Emma watched closely as he swallowed hard and pulled her more fully into his arms. Neither of them said anything for several minutes, merely drawing solace from each other.
Then Emma leaned back slightly, trailing thoughtful fingers across the letters one more time. "I may not understand completely. It's different, of course, but I have thought before that Graham could still be alive if it weren't for me."
"How is that, Lass?" Killian questioned, drawing back just enough to look into her face more fully and brushing loose strands of her hair off her forehead.
"Well," she wet her lips, hating to even think of that last night, the fight with Regina and Graham's collapse to the station floor, but knowing she owed Killian no less than the whole truth after the scene he had just relived. "He hired me as his deputy, and we became friends, so he came to me when he felt something was wrong. He felt as though he was remembering things from another life. He kept saying he didn't think he had a heart, and that he had to change things…that he needed to feel something. I encouraged him to stand up for himself, but…I never would have if I had known that Regina had his heart from before the curse. He broke away from her, and she crushed it. He collapsed and died in my arms as well."
"Oh, Love…" his breath ruffled her hair lightly as he bent his head to rest atop hers and rubbed his hand over her shoulders soothingly. "That does not make it your fault," he crooned lowly.
"No more than Milah's death was yours," Emma replied softly, stroking her fingers in what she hoped was a light, comforting touch over his exposed collarbone and chest showing from the open collar of his burned, stained, and much worse for wear shirt.
There didn't seem much else for either of them to say, but for just a few moments more they lingered close together, drawing strength and warmth in a land that thrived by making those sent there feel nothing but cold and alone. For just a bit longer, they didn't worry about their next move against Hades, meeting up with the others, or how they were going to get out of the Underworld, but simply hung onto each other. Finally, Emma nodded in acceptance, and with one last glance, turned to walk away from Graham's grave, hand holding Killian's tightly. "At least he's finally somewhere good…and he's at peace," she spoke quietly.
Killian squeezed her fingers in his, then linked their arms at the elbows. "Aye…and truly Swan, that is no small thing."
"I hope not," she replied, leaning her head on his shoulder as they meandered back to that realm's version of their home. Still unhurried and savoring a bit of private time reunited, knowing too that it was anyone's guess what new threat might assail them next and that there was at least some safety in numbers. It wouldn't be wise to stay separated from the rest of their group for too long. Of course, both of them wished to find the way back home, to the true Storybrooke as soon as possible. They had earned – they deserved – to begin their future in the actual house of hope that Henry and Killian had found as a promise to her.
"I'm sorry we weren't able to see Milah on to the other side, to her happiness…" Emma murmured as they reached the edge of the cemetery. The words seemed woefully inadequate, and yet she found she had to offer something. He had understood her and helped her process what she had learned of Graham, how many times more should he be finally able to do the same with the memory of his lost first love? Besides, having now met Milah herself, Emma wanted more for the woman in her own right. After all this time and her penance paid, shouldn't she have been allowed something as simple as passing on to find peace and forgiveness in reunion with her son? "We'll find a way to make it right…for you, and for her…someday."
"Maybe," Killian started, and he shook his head, refusing to finish the thought, as if not wanting to let himself harbor false hope.
That as much as anything spurred Emma forward. For all that her love had been a rascal, a villain, a true pirate, Killian had always possessed an unbelievable wellspring of hope that fascinated and bolstered her. When they had been separated by a curse, her very knowledge of his existence erased, he had vowed that "not a day would go by" without him thinking of her until he found her again, when she had been almost completely consumed by the Darkness, he had convinced her that "all sins can be forgiven when someone loves you". He had given up his very home on blind, determined faith that he could cross realms and time to reach her once more. She would not see that miraculous hope snuffed out now.
"When we defeat Hades, when we set thing to rights here, maybe the souls will be allowed what they truly deserve at last instead of being trapped," Emma offered, feeling it ought to be true with all of her heart.
"Aye," Killian agreed simply. "That certainly would be more fitting." They stepped out onto the Main Street once more, still hand-in-hand, and turned toward their destination in the weird crimson light. As they ventured on, he added with heartfelt sincerity in his words. "If nothing else, I am always willing to believe in you."