Operation Light Swan - Part Two

AN: Based on a dream I had about finding Hook in the Underworld!

When he awakens, his head is spinning. There isn't supposed to be awake. Right? Just… emptiness. Sleep. Eternal rest or some bloody thing like that he'd effectively convinced himself of over all the years of emptiness and loss. The after wasn't real. Until it was.

"Hey. Sleeping beauty. Wake up. I have things to do that don't include watching you lay around."

His side was being nudged by a fine leather shoe and as his eyes fluttered open, he met the owner of said shoes. A tall man with a deathly pallor, yellow hued eyes, and dressed in a smart suit loomed over him looking rather unimpressed and almost bored.

"Good. You're awake. Time for introductions I suppose," he rolled his shoulders then straightened the cufflinks at his wrists.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Killian asked, rubbing his newly scarred neck.

"I was getting to that. Rude. Name's Hades. Lord of the dead. Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Captain," the dapper gentleman with a killer gleam in his dark eyes extended his hand.

Killian refused to take it. Instead, noticing that his centuries long hook was gone. And had been replaced with his missing hand, but the flesh was twisted and scared all around the circumference of his wrist. He rubbed the long absent appendage in curious wonder.

"What…?"

"Ah that old thing? Yes, see when you died doing that noble deed, your body became whole again in the afterlife. But you did so many nasty deeds as a villain, those scars are to remind you of the sins of your past. Make sense? Good. Moving on then."

"Wait wait wait. Death? The afterlife?"

"Hm. Not as bright as I thought you would be. All that reading and learning you did in life suddenly leave you or what? Anyway, yes. Welcome to your own version of the Underworld. I'm sure you'll make yourself at home in no time."

"My version? I don't understand."

A deep sigh and a snap of Hades fingers poofed them to a mostly abandoned street. Looking around… it almost looked like… Wait, was that the clock tower from Storybrooke? In… the middle of the intersection? What the devil was going on here?

"Everyone forms their own version of the afterlife. It's full of those that are tied to you for some reason or another. I can't go into specifics or I'd be at risk for telling secrets that I can't technically reveal for reasons. Beaurocracy, am I right? You've been avoiding this for a long time. Not as long as some, but still… It's a pain, I gotta tell you, setting all this up for someone who never bothers to show up. There's a reason you're here and not either burning or rolling around in some beautiful meadow. But it's not my job to tell you how to get to either place. It's your job to figure it out. So… good luck with that. Lot of people, a lot that you knew in fact, haven't figured it out and they've been here quite a while. I guess the… atmosphere hinders progress a bit."

"Where do I go from here?"

"Wherever you want, bub. I really don't have time to babysit you anymore. The dead don't wait - not like they have anywhere to be. But I will warn you because, hey I'm a nice guy. You've probably made a few enemies along the way in all those years playing Captain Hook. I'd watch your back," he smiled dangerously then disappeared in a cloud of murky blue smoke.

Killian was alone again.

Walking the sidewalk of this upside down version of Storybrooke… At least, he was pretty sure that was the name of the town he had been living in. Right? He wasn't sure. His memories were intact, but… seemed jumbled. There were blurry faces and lands. When he tried to recall specifics, he couldn't and it made his head thud with dull pain. There were people he cared about, he knew it, but… who? It was there, but muddied. Everything was muddied. His feet eventually led him to a house that he felt he should recognize. Surrounded by a decrepit leaning fence with chipped white paint, it would have been a very handsome homestead somewhere in the past. But time hadn't been kind and found it in disarray. The dusty blue paint was weathered and peeling, exposing the old wooden skeleton. A few windows were broken, a few more cracked. The yard was overgrown as he made his way up the broken stone pathway. Front steps creaked and groaned under his unfamiliar weight and the front door stuck a bit as he pushed it open with his shoulder. There were a few pieces of furniture covered in white dusty sheets. A breeze from the outdoors was the only occupant. Sweeping the sheet from the couch left a cloud of dust and he tried to stifle a cough.

He found himself laying there on the couch. Not sure why. There was probably something he should be doing… Figuring out a way out of here, for one. But there was no energy or willpower to do so; the ceiling was all he could manage to look up at. Here there was only emptiness. And his unbeating heart was a dark cavernous thing, lacking a warmth that he couldn't place but missed sorely.

The longer he was there, the worse it became.

The faded telescope in the front window gave a view of the sea. However, instead of feeling calm, it made him uneasy to look out at the dark, angry capped waves rolling up from the depths of the black sea. So he eventually stopped. It always seemed grey and misty there. Every day like the last. He passed people on the streets that he felt he should know. Faces that were vaguely familiar somehow. The young, leering Pawn Shop owner with his crisp suits and a biting tongue which made him go out of his way to avoid the shop entirely. The crossing guard with a strong face and long black curls she always wore up in a tail behind her head stared at him with confused affection each time she let him cut across the street amidst the crowd of children. Once he had asked her if they knew each other. She looked back at him with sadness in her blue eyes before shaking her head and saying 'I'm not entirely sure…' He wasn't either. He didn't ask again. Time ceased to have meaning there, sitting as still as the clock's face.

Out of boredom, he eventually took to manning a shop at the harbor selling ropes and bait but only ever had one customer. There was a fisherman a few years older than himself with blue eyes and curly brown hair who became his only patron. The way his eyes would twinkle and dimple crease his cheek when he smiled made Killian's hollow chest ache with nostalgia for reasons he could not put together… They always exchanged greetings or pleasantries but there was an uncertainty in the air between them. A feeling of words that needed to be said, but neither seemed to know what those words were exactly. Each man was at a loss for who the other was except for the nagging in their sub consciousness that they knew the other; somehow. They were all lost in this damn fog with only shadows of their former lives fading into the background.

One day something was different. Something strange happened. There were whispers among the residents that someone new had come to town. He hadn't seen such visitors himself yet. So he wasn't sure if it was true or not.

When he arrived back to the place he had taken to calling home, his hazy world shifted on its axis. There was a group of people there waiting for him. He didn't recognize them, but felt like he should have. Perhaps these were the people that would help him get wherever he was supposed to go, to help him move on from where ever this was exactly. Perhaps that's what Hades had meant when he first arrived. But that didn't seem right either. When had Hades greeted him again? What happened before that? Everything was so disjointed.

"I'm sorry, you all look very familiar, but… do I know you?"

They all looked at him, then each other, seeming to read each other's minds. But then he caught sight of her and if he had any breath in his chest, it would have stilled at the sight. She stood from his kitchen table and looked at him, her glassy green eyes cutting through the mist of his mind and golden locks guiding him home. He knew her. He had to know her.

"You…" his voice came without his beckoning, foreign in his own mouth, and his feet moved him towards her instinctively. He knew this woman. In his bones, he knew her.

"Killian. I found you," she breathed in relief and the sound made his head pound.

With a frightened, painful yelp, he fell to the floor with his hands pushing his temples, trying to keep his head from splitting apart.

"What's happening?!" she said from somewhere in the room.

"Something's wrong!" a woman with short black hair worried.

"He's remembering." A matter of fact voice came from a man with long, greying hair and a face that regarded him like something he would wipe from his shoe.

It was true though. Memories - clear ones - flooded his vision so quickly it was if his head might actually explode and his face twisted in agony, teeth bared and eyes squeezed shut as tight as possible. It was too much too fast. Her. A knife to his throat, a beanstalk, a town much like the one he lived now, a dagger, a ship, a brother, a lost love, revenge, a cowardly crocodile, centuries of pain loss and anger, love, Camelot, Merlin, darkness, Excalibur… then… nothing.

"Killian!" the voice again, pulling him out of his head and from the darkness. This time, even though she was panicked, the sound of her voice brought him calm. A calm he hadn't felt since coming here. Her voice was the real ocean. Her face and arms his true home as she cradled him, frightened, close to her chest.

"I thought I'd lost you forever," she whispered, burying her face into his neck, fingers brushing over the deep indented scar of his now healed wound. The very one that plunged them both into darkness in the first place.

"Emma," he said before the name even held meaning. Once it rolled off his tongue and over his lips, warmth spread through his chest and it nearly felt like he could feel his pulse again. Yet another lifetime, he'd lived through so many as it were, had passed since he had seen her or touched her and his arms wrapped around her, firm. Making sure she was actually real. This was not a dream he would wake from come the dawn.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to get you back."

He pulled away. The joy of seeing her had been quickly eclipsed by his suffocating guilt.

"Came to get me? But Emma… you can't. I died back there. This is where I belong," he resigned. Stating it as much for himself as for her.

She turned her attention to the others.

"We're going to need a few minutes," she told them, her gaze sweeping over everyone before resting, and narrowing, on Gold who stood in the corner near the door.

They filed out. Henry, bringing up the rear, stopped at the doorway and turned around to face his mother.

"Don't forget. Operation Light Swan Part Two," and handed her a folder from his backpack. She smiled and nodded solemnly.

Before leaving Henry turned again to look at him, but Killian couldn't read his expression.

"It's good to see you again," the boy finally managed to say, the hope in his eyes finally shining through.

"It's good to see you too, lad. I never thought I'd get the chance to do so. But I'm grateful for it."

Henry shuffled his feet a moment, debating his next move. Then he slowly walked to Killian and rested his head on his chest as he hugged him tight.

"Lad…"

"Just listen to mom, okay? Come home, Killian. I'm not leaving without you. I've already lost one dad and that's enough."

Before he could utter a reply, Henry was out the door leaving the two of them alone.

"Operation Light Swan Part Two?" he mused quietly, more than a little overwhelmed by the memory of his and Henry's original operation.

"You got it."

"I can't leave here, Emma."

"Yes. You can. You were deceived, Killian. We all were."

"What?"

"Gold. He has the power of all the former Dark One's now. When you were killed… instead of getting rid of the darkness forever, he transferred it all from Excalibur to him. He's the Dark One again. But… it's different this time - he's stronger than ever. And I don't exactly trust him bringing us down here… I just had no choice. I needed to see you. Tell you. And ask you if you wanted to come back with us..."

He heard what she said, but all he could focus on for the moment was the underhandedness of his arch nemesis.

"He did what?!" the rage in Killian boiled over.

"Our job isn't done. The darkness still needs to be destroyed and I can't do it without you. But… more importantly, we get a second chance at our life together. If you'll just come with me."

Her eyes, rimmed in red, plead with him but he found it impossible to go on looking her in the face. Unworthy of this 'rescue' mission. His anger fell… and was replaced with insecurities and self-loathing.

"Swan. You know I can't do that. The price is too high. I won't ask for anyone to pay it for me. Not after I the things I said and did to you and the people you love."

"You died thinking you were saving us. All of us. I love you and I forgive you. We all do. That's why we're all here. I'll split my heart. I'll share it with you. My parents did it. We can too."

"What if it doesn't work? Your parents are a bit of a high standard… the truest love of all."

"Maybe not the truest of all… Maybe that title belongs to another couple I just happen to know," she smiled at him sweetly.

"Emma, what are you saying?"

She took a deep breath and reached behind her. It was then he noticed the ring hanging around her neck still and he couldn't help but feel a pang of affection at the sight of it.

"I want you to look at something. Something that Henry helped me with," she held up the folder for him.

"What is it, love?"

She moved to the dusty couch, shivering slightly in the cold room. He had never realized the chill before. But he supposed when one is dead, the cold or heat doesn't really affect you much. There wasn't even a blanket to offer her for warmth.

"Here. Read it out loud," she handed him a piece of decorated, beautiful heavy paper from the folder. His thumbs traced the raised lettering and, down in the bottom corners, the pair of silver swans with their elongated necks that looked a lot like his old hook. The two were positioned facing each other and with their heads touching and long necks bowed, the negative space formed the shape of a heart.

He cleared his throat and began reciting the words aloud.

"'You are formally invited to the wedding celebration of Emma Swan and Killian Jones. Join us and our family as we exchange vows of a life filled with love. The service will take place aboard the Jolly Roger at sunset on…,'" his voice became too choked with emotions to finish reading the rest.

"Killian… I know it looked like I hesitated in Camelot when I thought you might be proposing. And maybe I did back then because I was scared of wanting a future with you as much as I did. But so much has changed. I'm not afraid of anything when it comes to me and you anymore. The only thing I'm scared of is missing out on those things. I want everything for us. For our future together. I want to go back to Storybrooke, to our home, and have the life we both deserve. Forever. What do you say? Take a leap of faith? Marry me?"

There were no lanterns lit and the dark room mostly masked his lowered face in shadow, but the angles of his cheeks were illuminated by the pale light of the moon shining in from the open window and he was sure she caught sight of the tear that fell freely. It seemed she too had stopped breathing while waiting for him to say something. Anything.

"Emma…," his voice was heavy with emotion.

She scooted closer and covered his hand with hers.

"Please don't say no. Please. I came down here for you because I believe in us. I want you to believe in us too. In what we're capable of together. I think… I think we can do anything. We can beat Gold. We can get you out of here."

For a dead guy, he had never felt more alive.

"How could I ever say no?" he told her, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly to match the raised eyebrow.

She gave him the second biggest smile he'd ever seen before toppling over him on the couch and moving her face close to his, their foreheads and noses brushing intimately.

"I love you, Killian Jones."

"I love you, Emma Swan. And I look forward to you making an honest man out of me."

"I think you already did that."

"Only with your help, love. Only with your help."

He closed his eyes and cupped her face in his hands. Their lips crashed together passionately and a rush of light burst forth, nearly knocking over the few other pieces of furniture in the room.

In the middle of town, where the rest of the group had wandered while trying to figure out their exit strategy, Henry stopped them. His eyes grew in wonder at an all too familiar sight unfolding before him.

"Guys. Look!" he pointed to the face of the fallen clock.

They stared in wonder as the minute hand began to move and the fog seemed to lift. The people on the streets waking up and shaking off the fog.

"They did it!"

Only a moment later, someone approached to group.

"Excuse me?!" A voice called to them. A handsome gentleman in a navy blue wool coat ran up to them.

"Yes? Can we help you?" Snow asked him.

"Perhaps. You're the visitors everyone has talked about, right? I'm looking for him. I'm looking for my brother."

"Who's your brother?" Henry asked, stepping forward.

"Killian Jones. I've seen him here running the shop on the docks… but I didn't know him. Not until just a moment ago did I somehow recall who he was. I'm so ashamed to not have known my own little brother. Please. Help me find him."

"I think we might be able to help you.," Henry smiled and nodded.

Elsewhere, a less enthusiastic voice assessed the situation. Hades watched on from the looking glass that hung in the mayor's office.

"Looks like this pirate is going to be more trouble than I thought," he practically growled. If there was one thing that set off his temper more than anything else it was interference to his schemes. Doubt over his deal with Rumpelstiltskin only added fuel to the fire. Neither one could resist making those damn deals. Hades just hoped he was the smarter, more underhanded of the two this time around. The idea of getting duped didn't exactly set well with the God of the Underworld and the dear Dark One had already escaped his eternal stay once before…

"Don't worry dear. I won't allow them to disrupt our plans," Cora patted his hand, practically reading his mind, "If there's one thing I was always good at, it's getting what I want. Lucky for you, I'm more than a little familiar with this particular group. And I'm not about to let them take this away from me either. Let's not forget what happens to the living when they die in the Underworld. The rules here are different and they don't know it. We will play that to our advantage."

"That's my girl," he smiled wickedly.