When he comes to he's not certain at first how long he's been out. He starts to speak, her name just beginning to fall from his lips when he remembers.
He's dead.
The place on his torso where Excalibur went through him starts to throb. His eyes snap open. He's laying on the floor in some kind of dungeon; stone walls & a sort of centuries old wet smell lingering in the air, a few torches just bright enough to make out the vague shapes of the walls surrounding him & nothing more. All things considered, it's really not so bad. He's surprised.
"Good morning sweet cheeks," a man in a suit steps from the shadows smiling at him, "I've got to hand it to you, you're really good at this whole 'unconscious on the floor' thing. I'm impressed." Killian grimaces in the man's direction, struggling to pull himself upright.
"Oh, don't get up on my account. Name's Hades by the way. I've been waiting to chat with you for a long time." Killian collapses against the damp stone floor, his battle to sit up lost for now.
"Wish I could say it was a pleasure." He manages to grit out. His body is radiating with pain, each breath shallow & excruciating.
"Well, you know, I'll take what I can get." Hades laughs, "She got you real good, straight through all the good bits. Your lungs are totally kaput! That's gonna make for a fun eternity!"
He suddenly sees again the events of the past hour; Emma driving that bloody sword through him, tears in her eyes; her arms around him as he falls to the ground. The last thing he remembers is her golden hair & her red leather jacket. & the pain. He remembers the pain.
Hades is crouched in front of him now, a toothy smile across his face. "Breathing not going so great is it cinnamon bun? I'm telling you, she got you straight through the lungs! A real hole-in-one!" Hades winks at him. "We've got an awful lot of work to do sugar tits, so lets go ahead & get started."
"Work?" he asks, confused.
"Yes, work. This ain't the ritz carleton baby. Welcome to hell." Hades spreads his arms wide gesturing to the dank space around him.
"I imagined something…bigger."
"Aren't you a little comedian!" Hades smiles, then turns suddenly serious, "we'll beat that out of you."
"It's torture then?" He grits his teeth, resisting the urge to curl in on himself in an effort to ease the pain of his stab wound.
"Oh yes gorgeous, it's torture."
Killian makes his best effort at a shrug. He is only marginally successful. Hades merely laughs, pressing one long pale finger into the wound between Killian's ribs. He tries to stop himself from screaming, but fails miserably.
"Yeah, we'll see how you feel about it in a decade or so." Standing again, Hades turns to disappear into the shadows he came from.
"Well, that wasn't so bad." Killian mutters into the darkness.
"Oh honey, we ain't even started yet."
*
The most he's been able to decipher about hell so far is that time is different here. It's not quite stationary like in Neverland, but it's not quite moving either. He has the sensation that he's been dead a while, but he's not sure exactly how long. Laying on the wet floor of his cell he imagines every possible detail of Emma's face. Her green eyes, the way they crinkle at the corners when she smiles. Her long legs encased in those impossibly tight trousers he'd always try not to stare at while her father was nearby. Her sunlight hair. He figures if he spends an eternity dreaming of Emma Swan hell really isn't all that bad.
"Hello Captain."
It's an impossible voice, but he hears it nonetheless. For all his dreaming, hearing Emma's voice cuts pain through his heart. Gods he misses her.
"Emma…" he starts, looking up as a vision in a red leather jacket steps into a flickering pool of torchlight. He stops as soon as he meets her eyes though. Emma's beautiful green eyes, only there is something…wrong about them. Something not quite right.
"Look at you. Right back where you belong. In jail." She smiles sweetly at him. It's Emma's smile through & through, but the eyes… the eyes are all wrong.
"You're not her." He steels himself.
"I'm not?" She feigns innocence.
He stares at her a while, this ghost may not be Emma, but she sure looks like her, & he would trade his very soul to see her face again.
"Maybe I'm not exactly her. But beggars can't be choosers Hook, you should know that. Always begging for the scraps of my affection. Pathetic."
It's not her. It's not her. It's not her. He keeps repeating to himself, but still the words hurt. She steps closer to him, kneeling only inches away. Reaching slowly toward him she caresses his face & everywhere her fingers touch his skin burns with a cold so complete he swears he can feel it down to his very bones. He bites down on his tongue to keep from screaming. She leans close, her lips hovering directly over his ear & he can feel her breath against his flesh.
"Stupid pirate. Villains don't get happy endings." She laughs & the sound is hollow. She holds her freezing fingers against his jaw for a few moments more before she giggles & stands to disappear into the shadows.
*
He replays every time she told him she loved him over & over again in his mind. Every time she kissed him, smiled at him. That's the Emma Swan he'll remember, not this twisted phantom version of her. That is the women he loves.
She returns what he assumes is the following day. Still unable to stand on his own he's lost track of what little sense of time he had.
"Hello beautiful." She smiles at him. He doesn't answer. Just watches her warily from his place curled on the floor. She paces the room slowly, considering her next move.
"I'm curious, did you actually believe that someone like me could possibly love a worthless one-handed pirate? Because if you did, I've got to tell you, you're a lot dumber than I thought. It's a shame, because you really are quite pretty."
"You're not her."
"Pity the pretty ones are always so stupid." She stops her pacing to stand above him. Arms folded over her chest she certainly looks like Emma. "You always were the second choice. Surely you must know that?" She kneels slowly in front him, caressing his forehead, jaw, & throat. The burning so intense this time he can't stop himself from crying out.
"Why would I settle for a man who's own father so easily replaced him?" She breathes into his ear before planting a excruciating kiss on his temple. The pain blooms behind his eyes as he watches her leave. She is always leaving him.
*
Emma Swan. Emma Swan. Emma Swan. He chants her name in his mind like a protection spell. He wills himself to remember the real Emma. The Emma who loved him back.
She did love him back didn't she? It wasn't a dream was it?
She returns again this time wearing her pink dress. His wounds are healing slowly, but each time she steps into the light of his cell he feels the cold like a vice around his heart.
"I took a little looksie topside if you're interested." She holds perfectly still gazing down at him with nothing but cold detachment. This wasn't the way Emma usually looked at him, was it?
"It's like you were never there. I got rid of that ridiculous house. I'm happy now I don't have to deal with your constant brooding. Don't have to pretend your deformity doesn't disgust me." She gestures to his left arm & he suddenly feels the urge to curl it under his body where she can't see it. She reaches for him, sliding her fingers down his arm & leaving a trail of angry red marks as she circles her fingers over the scarred flesh. Spots blossom behind his eyes as the pain leaves his stomach lurching. The good thing about hell is that no one eats here, so at least his stomach is empty. "Not even a whole man. What a joke." She pulls him by the lapels of his coat until he is sitting upright, his back pressed against the cell wall.
"How could you ever be enough for me?" she asks.
& he knows he never was.
*
She comes every day to chat with him. Tell him tales of her life now that she's free of his burdens. She always strokes his cheek or his arm, or the back of his neck dragging long spines of razor sharp pain over his skin. He has no idea how long he's been here. He tries to chant her name as a protection spell, but somehow the words get garbled in his mind. He can't remember what real Emma's eyes looked like. Maybe he was remembering her wrong? Maybe they always looked so hollow.
"Captain, captain, captain. Did you really believe you deserved me?" She asks one day, cradling his head in her hands the pain almost enough to knock him out.
"No." He whispers back. She smiles.
*
His wounds are completely healed now, but the pain still lingers. He stays curled in on himself pressed against the wall of his cell. He finds he doesn't need to stand or ever move so he stays as still as possible, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He never was much of anything anyway.
"Oh poor little Captain Hook. Always such a disappointment. Everyone he loves leaves him, he's too disgusting to be tolerated." She sings to him now. Songs of his failures. There are plenty of them to make tunes of, enough for centuries of singing. Her voice is sharp but still beautiful. She kisses his lips tenderly & swallows his cries of pain. It's more than he deserves.
*
"You're nothing. Say it." Her smile is always the same. He'd forgotten how it was possible that that smile could ever bring him warmth, it was so cold & ruthless.
"I'm nothing."
"You're less than nothing. Say it."
"I'm less than nothing."
*
His body feels stronger so he tries to avoid her touch. She sits beside him & when she reaches out to stroke his jaw he scrambles to the other side of the cell. She laughs & laughs & laughs.
"Silly pirate. You can't run from me." She crawls across the floor, her smile seductive. She slides her fingers down his throat & into the deep V of his shirt. He tries to turn his head away.
"Look at me Captain." She orders & he does. He will always do what she asks. She leans in for a kiss.
*
He can't remember the details about her any longer. When he tries to picture her face all he sees are vague shapes. The memories of their time together, before he died, have all but faded. All he knows now is the Emma Swan who visits him in this cell.
*
"Remember when you tried True Love's Kiss on me? Wasn't that funny? As if you would ever be worthy of true love!" She is curled beside him, every point of contact between their bodies simmering with pain. He curls into himself as much as possible. She turns to him sweetly, "say it."
"I'm nothing" he laughs.
& he knows it's true.