This story was inspired by two prompts on Tumblr, one where your soul mate's last words are on your skin and one where person A calls person B as they're dying. Written because I apparently enjoy torturing myself and originally posted on Tumblr.
The characters belong to Kitsis and Horowitz, I just take them out to play.
Emma had met plenty of people in her life that didn't have anything written across their forearm. She had even met a few people who did. It wasn't that she didn't believe in soul mates, spending any time with her best friend and her husband had proven that such a thing did exist. She just didn't know what would happen to her or to her soul mate that would cause them to say the words imprinted on the pale skin of her inner arm.
"We're having pasta."
The simplicity and banality of it had kept her awake when she had finally found out what the words meant. It had been one of the older girls in a group home that told her. The words were the last thing a person's soul mate would ever say to them. She had been eleven and it had been weeks before the nightmares had stopped.
Bouncing from foster home to foster home Emma had encountered a great many people. Most of them had untouched skin and she envied them as much as they envied her. The few she had come across with words on their arms had some sentimental statement etched across it. More often than not it was just three words, three simple words that held all the meaning in the world, 'I love you'.
Emma had gone back and forth between loving and hating the words on her arm. She had imagined a million and one scenarios in which her soul mate said those words and then she had imagined a million and one more. In the light of day she knew she was just setting herself up for disappointment, she had learned at an early age not to dwell on fantasies. In the middle of the night, however, her thoughts spun from one dream to another and she had given up trying to stop them.
When Neal came into her life she had thought he was it. She had found a happiness with him that she didn't think had been possible for an unwanted girl such as herself. It wasn't until she was sitting on a bunk in a jail cell looking down at the pregnancy test in her right hand and the words on her left arm that she let the heartbreak wash over her. Neal's last words to her had nothing to do with pasta and then he had abandoned her. Emma was pretty sure that soul mates wouldn't do that.
It had taken ten years for her to open her heart up to someone new. Despite being her superior officer Graham had a gentle persuasiveness that Emma had found hard to resist. He was also great with her son, a quality that was essential if anyone wanted a chance with her. Things had been good until a congenital heart defect that had gone undetected had him collapsing in her arms. His last words to her had been ones of thanks, for what she wasn't entirely sure but, despite her grief, he wasn't the one.
Walsh had come into her life a few years later. He was fun and cared about Henry and she enjoyed being with him but it hadn't felt quite right. When he proposed she had been surprised, not because he wanted to marry her but because she realized that she didn't want to marry him. His parting words were a simple goodbye, barely worth remembering.
It was only a few weeks later that she met Killian. She had accepted a position in a sheriff's office in a small town in Maine to get out of New York. Henry thought she was running from her problems and he was right, but she stuck to the story that she wanted to give him a better life than one in the city. Killian had been locked up in one of the station's two cells when she had walked in to the office on her first day.
From the minute he had opened his mouth Emma had to fight the urge to punch him in the face. It was a shame that she was even willing to bruise the handsome mug staring out at her from between the bars of his cell. Luckily the sheriff walked in before she could do more than pass him a water bottle. David had warned Killian try and stay on his best behavior for more than a few hours before unlocking the cell door and letting him loose on society. Bright blue eyes passed over her before he stated he didn't make promises he couldn't keep. With a slight bow at the two of them he had turned and leisurely sauntered out of the office.
Killian Jones snuck into her life, that was the only way she could explain it. He had the uncanny ability to read her like an open book and gave her exactly what she needed. Whether it was time, or space, or a hot chocolate with cinnamon, he always knew. Even Henry's reservations melted away when Killian treated him like a person instead of just another kid. It wasn't his patience or tenacity that won her heart, it was his unwavering faith in her and in them.
It had been five years since she moved to Storybrooke and four since she had been with Killian. They were happy, all of them. If she stayed up late some nights running her hand across her arm it didn't matter because Killian would eventually reach over and still her movements, pulling her into his arms. He only had two words that ran across the inside of his right wrist, words that never seemed to keep him up at night or make his brow furrow as he tried to puzzle out their meaning. 'Love ya' was such a simple phrase.
Emma hadn't seen the knife. It was dark in the parking lot next to The Rabbit Hole and she had stupidly thought it was just another drunk she would be taking to the station to sleep off his drinks. The guy had slashed at her twice before taking off running. She had only felt the gash on her hand and signaled for David to get the guy. It wasn't until she tried to walk to the cruiser for the first aid kit that she realized something was very wrong.
Her left leg gave out and she nearly collapsed to the ground but caught herself on the cruiser. Lights were spinning in her vision and her head seemed to have been filled with helium. Standing up slowly she limped around to the side of the car that was bathed in the light of the streetlamp. She nearly collapsed again when she looked down at her leg.
There was a six inch hole in her pants that was the least of her problems. The blood soaking into the denim from the wound on her leg was a more pressing issue. Emma couldn't feel that injury and that's what scared her the most. She had been in enough emergency rooms to know that a wound that you couldn't feel was a serious one.
The music pouring out of The Rabbit Hole's door was too loud to yell over and for once no one was out taking a smoke break. David was nowhere to be seen and Emma's time was running out. She shakily lowered herself to the pavement and leaned back onto the side of the cruiser. Her leather jacket, while it made her look good, offered no hope of staunching the blood seeping from her wound. She shrugged it off anyway and tried to fashion a tourniquet, anything to buy her enough time to get help. After she tightly tied it around her upper thigh she pressed her hand to her wound to slow the flow of blood.
Blackness was creeping in at the edge of her vision, blurring the night sky. She felt sleepy, like all she needed was a good nap and she'd wake up in her bed and this would just be another nightmare. Killian would be there smirking as he toed off his boots to climb in beside her.
Emma loved when that happened. She loved when he surprised her at work with lunch or when he took Henry out sailing for no reason. She loved the random texts she got through the day and the hastily scrawled notes left under the windshield wiper of her car. She loved when they fought over stupid things and she really loved when they made up afterwards. She loved him with everything she had and even with everything she didn't.
Her fingers, once sure and strong, fumbled as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. They wouldn't work properly as she unlocked the screen and thumbed through her contacts until she got to the picture of Killian. After a moment's hesitation she made the call. She owed him that much at least.
"Why, Swan," Killian's voice poured through the phone like honey. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"
Emma bit back a sob as she pressed harder on her wound. The shadows on the periphery jumped back and she was thankful that the cobwebs were temporarily swept from her mind.
"Oh, you know," she tried to sound casual, "just trying to pass the time. It's been a slow night."
"Hmmm. I know how you hate those. Any chance of slipping out early? I know the good Sheriff is more than capable of handling things by himself."
She could hear pots and pans rattling in the background. Closing her eyes she could see Killian moving around their kitchen, phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear, cooking dinner for him and Henry with enough left over for when she got off. A tear slid down her cheek but her limbs felt too heavy to brush it away. Plus both her hands were occupied with pressing onto the things that were keeping her alive.
"Emma, love," Killian's concerned voice cut through her thoughts. "Are you there?"
"I'm here. Just lost in my thoughts, I guess."
"If you have time for that then there's definitely no reason David can't let you come home now. Dinner's almost ready and Henry's actually finished his homework, or so he says. We could make a night of it."
Emma smiled gently and opened her eyes. Looking up at the stars she breathed in a quiet, but shaky, breath.
"I might just do that. What's on the menu?"
"My specialty, straight from the jar to our table. Spaghetti a la Killian."
"What?"
Emma's hand slid off her leg and she nearly dropped the phone.
"We're having pasta."
She had to laugh. Of all the scenarios she had dreamed up this took the cake. The blackness had come back, her head felt heavy, and it was hard to keep the phone to her ear. But she couldn't go without saying it, without giving him that.
"Sounds perfect. I'll see what I can do," she let her head fall back on the car door, "and Killian?"
He hummed in response, no words just a sound. The tears were falling freely now and she just wanted it to be over. It hurt too much, being the one to have absolute surety and having to say goodbye.
"Love ya."
The phone slipped out of her hand and clattered to the ground. The call was still connected when David found her only minutes later, Killian's tinny voice yelling out her name.