It got to the point, near the end, where the only people who would have been able to recognize her as the Savior were the two with whom she shared True Love. Even her parents had difficulty seeing past the sunken features and the half-glazed look of pain to the strong woman who had saved them all more than once and loved them all fiercely. Confined as she was to the uncomfortable gurney in Storybrooke's hospital, there was little left but skin and bones held together by the tenacious will of her son and her pirate.

It was ironic that with all of the magic contained in Storybrooke, the Enchanted Forest, Arendelle, and every other realm known to them that not a single one of the healers, magicians, witches, wizards, or warlocks that the town had dragged into Emma's hospital room could break through the spell and heal her. Modern science was not equipped to deal with the level of destruction one magic wielding villain could wreak upon the human body and ages old magic still couldn't find a way past the curse.

When it first happened, Killian had spent hours upon hours trying any form of kiss he could think of to break the enchantment – much to Emma's amusement and David's vexation. Henry had tried as well, falling all over himself to help every time the pirate asked him to try just one more time. But the latest villain to darken Storybrooke had done his research well.

True Love's Kiss, it seemed, simply couldn't break this curse.

Killian left her bedside for only three reasons. To drag Jefferson off to yet another realm so he could kidnap – persuade, Swan, persuade forcefully – whichever wielder of magic Belle had found in her research to return to Emma's bedside. To take young Neal out to wander the hospital's courtyard and feed the birds so that David and Snow could have some time with Emma without worrying about the little prince's youthful exuberance disturbing his love's rest. To drag Henry, practically kicking and screaming, to the house to shower and change his clothes for school.

Only when it was beyond absolutely necessary – and even then it was with great protest – did Killian catch catnaps in the chair by her bed or stretched out underneath the window. He used the small attached bathroom to splash water on his face and in his hair, and used an old rag to wipe off the days-old grime when the nurses threatened to bar him from her room otherwise. The bags under his eyes and the curl of his unkempt hair were only offset by what Emma called his "Duck Dynasty" impersonation – whatever that meant – as she scratched her fingers through his beard.

The longest that Killian left Emma's side were the times when he had to hunt down the Hatter and drag him – and his constant protests – through the Hat's portal. There were few that had ever dared to challenge the business end of Killian's hook – and that mostly boiled down to Emma or Henry – so Jefferson only put up the barest of fights when the pirate traded him time and again for the rules of the Hat. Two entered the portal and two left it. The Hatter had instructions to reopen the portal every twenty four hours for his return ticket. So far, Killian had returned each time to whichever realm he had abandoned Jefferson in looking more morose than when he left it.

Killian would do anything to take all this strife onto his own shoulders. He'd trade places with her in a heartbeat, even at the risk of facing eternal damnation back to the Underworld if only it meant that Emma would stop suffering. He had begged Regina to find a potion or a spell that would transfer the curse to him.

The resulting screaming match with Emma was the loudest and the angriest he had heard her since she was hit with the curse.

Her outburst had set all of the monitors recording her vitals to screeching in a brilliant cacophony and sent a team of medical personnel sprinting into the hospital room to combat the problem. They kept Emma sedated for days until her body healed from the tirade.

It was subsequently the last time he had discussed plans to save her within earshot.

He was wearing himself to the bone, no one would deny it except for him, but none save Emma were brave enough to call him on it. Not that he listened to her worry. Just one more trip, Swan. I'll rest in a little bit, luv. It's my turn to take care of you. You don't have to worry about me. He was balanced on a sword's edge, toeing the line between exhaustion and illness with just enough rest to keep him at Emma's side and not in a hospital bed of his own. But as days wore into weeks and Belle ran out of options in her books and even on her magic box – yes, I know you call it the bloody 'internet' – Killian found himself catching fewer catnaps and tearing himself away from Emma's side more often to scour yet another realm. He knew he was grasping at straws when he started bringing back the same healers he had started with, more desperate threats and pleas dragging them to her bedside.

No one had an answer and Killian had to ignore the sympathetic looks that more and more of Emma's extended family – his family – were giving him with a stubborn resolve that his centuries of torment had strengthened in him. Every time Whale had to add another tube that snaked under Emma's hospital gown until all of her bodily needs and functions were being controlled manually or when the on-call nurse had to exchange the nasal cannula for a full mask on a regular basis so that Emma could draw enough breath to keep from wheezing, Killian's walls of denial grew just a little more insurmountable.

This was Emma Swan. The love of his life. The Savior who broke more than one curse. The determined lass who wouldn't rest until she found everyone's happy ending – even reformed villains who didn't deserve to be saved – to find peace. The woman who saved him from Hades and from himself. The feisty blonde who took one look at him and never pulled back from challenging him, pushing him to be a better man. The soldier in a constant battle between good and evil. The soft-hearted, broken, other half of his heart. This was Emma Swan and no mere curse should get the best of her.

Emma was his happy ending. She had given herself freely to him.

She deserved her happy ending, too.

What Emma didn't deserve was to be fighting for every breath, fighting to push through the painful muscle spasms that rippled through her just when she was starting to relax. She didn't deserve for the curse to sap her strength every time she opened her eyes until she was sleeping more than she was awake. She shouldn't have to fight down the nausea so that her son wouldn't worry himself into an ulcer because she turned paler and then green before begging him to leave the room for a moment. Emma didn't deserve to be denied her rest by nightmares so vivid that it took an eternity for Killian's soft accent and soothing touch to wake her and calm her.

Those were the few times that he would crowd her on the tiny mattress, slipping under the warm, plush blankets Snow had brought to curl Emma protectively against his chest. He'd sing soft sea shanties until her tears that burned his chest as they soaked his shirt finally abated and her quiet snoring was the only sound in the room.

It was only then that Killian would allow his own tears to drench her limp hair, biting into – and occasionally through – the skin inside his cheek to keep his sobs from waking her again.


Killian trudged back into the hospital with mud caking his boots, his face, even his hair. He had been surprised as he wandered that world – it looked so much like this Land without Magic, but there was a good chunk of the population who were magic-wielders. Belle had found mention of a stone from the stomach of a goat of all things found in this realm that was purported to cure most afflictions. Stumbling into some kind of war, he had returned from the odd place with nothing more than his life, a few mosquito bites, and a sore hand from when he had tripped over a root into a swamp.

Without prompting, he slunk into the staff locker room and stripped down before bracing himself under the scalding hot spray of one of the showers. It took every last bit of energy that he had to remain standing; to move his hands from the wall to scrub himself clean would have required far too much effort. So he allowed the water to sluice over him until it ran clean, then turned it ice cold to stave off the crippling exhaustion. Shivering and blue, the pirate pulled on a clean set of clothes from the spare locker with his name written on masking tape. It looked suspiciously like David's handwriting.

Finally as presentable as he could manage, Killian stumbled into the elevator and punched the button for Emma's floor. The sickening jolt to his stomach as the contraption began its ascent threatened to bring up the dried fruit he had munched on while on the move, but he battled it down. Normally he hated to use these "elevators", preferring to move up to Emma's room completely under his own power, but he was just too tired. All he wanted at the moment was to spend a few hours watching Emma sleep. It might just calm him enough that he could curl up on the cot Little John had set up from the woodland camp and doze until morning. He had the bed set up so the light of the sunrise would cross his eyelids so he wouldn't risk sleeping in.

Of course, even the best of plans were often derailed. Killian staggered out of the elevator with the last of his energy and leaned against the wall as he dragged himself all the way down the hall. All traces of fatigue were wiped from his memory when he heard Emma's cries from outside her door. The rasp of her voice told him that she'd been caught in the nightmare for a while and the panicked timbre of a cracking teenage voice told him that Henry was unsuccessful at rousing her. He opened the door to her private room and squeezed his hand to the teenager's shoulder before kicking off his boots. With a reassuring grin for Henry who smiled back tiredly, Killian began softly speaking as he lifted the blankets.

With an ease born of unfortunate practice, Killian and Henry worked together to lift the wires and tubes until he had her snuggled into his side. The boy tucked the blankets down around both of them before he whispered that he would call Regina to take him to dinner. They both knew it would be awhile before Emma was fit for visitors again and she hated knowing that Henry saw her in this state. It was one of the few reasons her son left her side willingly.

"Shh, my love, shh. It's just a nightmare. I'm right here and you're safe, Swan. Shh, everyone is safe. I love you so much, shh." Killian continued to whisper sweet nothings into her ear as he tucked her face into his neck. He began to hum a lullaby he vaguely remembered Liam singing to him in one dank ship's hold or another, the melody soothing both boys. It did the same for Emma, now, and he was rewarded after a few rounds through the song when damp lashes finally tickled his throat. His Swan was finally awake.

Scratching his fingers through her blonde locks, Killian continued to hold her close, ignoring how his left forearm was stuttering over her spine. The illness was sapping her appetite as well as her strength and it was showing in the weight she had lost. There was a tube in her nose that Whale had said was supplementing her nutrition, but it could only do so much. Regardless, she was here in his arms and calming down, everything else could wait a few more minutes.

Tears soaked through his clean shirt as Emma grasped weakly at the collar, trying in vain to pull herself closer to his side. He shifted carefully so he was flat on his back, lifting her to his chest and wrapping her tightly in his embrace. He heard her sigh through her tears as she relaxed and let the tension flow from her muscles. Killian risked loosening his grip for a moment to pull the blanket up to her shoulders, tucking the fabric under her chin to keep her warm. His own eyelids drooped as Emma's closed again, the stress of the nightmare sapping any strength she had built up in her sleep. The last thing he remembered before exhaustion pulled them both under was that wisps of her hair were tickling his nose.


Killian woke with a start when the swish of curtains broke through the monotonous beeping that he had all but tuned out in the past several weeks of Emma's hospital stay. His eyes shot open and his arms automatically tightened around the frail body draped across his torso. The breath that warmed the hollow of his throat settled him and Killian focused outwards. Snow's sheepish face graced his line of sight and he blew out the breath he had been holding.

"Sorry," she whispered and he had to strain to hear it. "I didn't want the light to wake either of you."

Killian smiled and nodded his thanks. He watched as she traced the purple 'Emma' on the blanket draped over his Swan's shoulders, pointedly ignoring the resigned look that was as familiar on her face these days as the hopeful one had been as long as he'd known her. He watched as she flitted about the room, straightening the flowers Aurora had sent and cleaning the dust off the wooden swan figurine that August had dropped off. Tracking her movements around the room was hypnotizing, and it was a long while before Killian became truly aware of the passage of time. The smell of coffee assaulted his nostrils and the promise of caffeine roused him finally. Snow left the Styrofoam cup on the bedside table and ran her fingers through his hair before traipsing out of the room.

Killian untangled his hand from the blankets and reached carefully for the steaming liquid. Just holding it under his nose drove more of the exhaustion from his body. He savored the bitter taste as it passed over his taste buds and burned the back of his throat. It wasn't quite the same burn as his rum provided, but this liquid brought about clarity rather than the numbing quality from his flask.

Killian hadn't touched a drop of rum since the day Emma collapsed in front of him and clutched at her chest after shoving him out of the way of the demon's magic.

He pouted at the empty cup for a good five minutes before placing it to the side and working to extract himself from Emma's grip. Belle was due to stop by with any new information in less than an hour and he intended to meet her on his feet, ready to go. He carefully rolled his love to her back and maneuvered his frame out from under all of the medical equipment she needed to keep her as strong as Whale's science could manage. Several protection charms and spells did the rest and it was an eerie mix of magic and medicine keeping Emma alive up to this point.

Killian fervently wished that at least one of the items he had brought back with him would just work.

Finally back on his feet, the pirate marveled at how Emma continued to reach for him in her sleep. Thankful that he hadn't woken her, he slipped her baby blanket back under her chin and ran his hand down her arm. Killian had no idea how long he stood there, drinking in her peaceful state before he realized Belle was watching him from the door with a melancholy smile on her face.

Moving to her side, Killian was delighted to see that she had a small book with her – she only came bearing research when she had already found something, not when she was simply checking in with him. He was startled when she reached out to cup his cheek. "Killian, you look awful. When was the last time you got any real rest?"

The pirate bristled that they were wasting time on his health when she clearly had another avenue for him to try. "I just woke up, I'll have you know. What do you have for us?"

He nodded to her book and glared intentionally. Killian knew that he had won when Belle sighed.

"I don't know why I didn't think of this before. I've sent you to DunBroch twice, but never thought to have you try to find the Spring of Borvo. It's supposed to have healing powers and would be a perfect foil to the curse. If you can bring some back and Emma drinks it, maybe it will help." She showed him an illustration of a babbling brook falling over rocks out of a small pool. The trees that surrounded it looked familiar and Killian was sure that he'd passed just such a place on his last trek to Merida's land.

Loathe to leave Emma alone so soon after returning, Killian forced himself to wait until she woke on her own. The pain that wracked her body when she was awake seemed to abate in sleep and he was always dismayed at the stark difference in her features once she opened her eyes. The curse, it seemed, prevented a simple sleeping spell from providing any relief. He was sorely tempted to beg Regina or Maleficent to put her under a sleeping curse until he could find a cure. Only the knowledge that she would be trapped in the burning room until he succeeded kept him from mentioning it.

When she finally pushed past the wall of pain and met his gaze, her soft smile comforted him more than anything else could even come close to doing. "Good morning, Swan. How are you feeling?"

Emma took a moment to answer and he could see how she catalogued the different parts of her that were affected by the curse. She shrugged her shoulders and reached out to him. Unable to deny her anything, Killian let her grasp his hook weakly while he carded his fingers through her hair. Bestowing a kiss upon her forehead, he breathed in the scent of her, masked as it was under the antiseptic of the hospital. They remained with their foreheads together, drinking each other in, for longer than either would care to mention. Time seemed to stop as they stared into each other's eyes, and it was only a coughing fit that finally broke the spell. The nurses had shown him how to switch Emma to the mask that made it easier to breathe, so he did this without conscious thought. More determined than ever to save her from this torment, Killian sat her up and let her rest against his chest as she caught her breath and then fixed the pillows behind her.

"Belle found something. She thinks that there's a spring in Merida's kingdom that could heal you. I should only be gone for a day or two at the most, but…" Killian trailed off at the tears in Emma's eyes.

"Killian, you have to stop." The rasp of her voice was muffled by the plastic, but it still punched him sharply in the gut even before the words registered. A tendril of fear shot through him.

"What? What do you mean, luv?" He cupped her cheek and cringed at how papery her skin felt as it slid over bone. He needed to get to DunBroch and the sooner, the better.

Emma stared at him sadly, reaching up with effort to entwine their fingers. Bringing his hand back down to her lap where she didn't have to use as much energy to play with the rings on his hand, she dropped her gaze.

"I need you to stop, Killian," she repeated and sniffled. "I need for it to be enough. I need to know that I'm enough."

He shook his head in disbelief. "You are more than enough, my love. My brother told me something once. He said that 'if you have love, you don't need to have anything else, and if you don't have it, it doesn't matter much what else you have'. That's why I've been doing all of this. Because with all the things I've done, you still love me. So I'll only be a little while, and this will work. You'll see. This water will work and everything will be better."

Emma shook her head. "You've tried everything. I know that. My family knows that. I love you, Killian, but I'm tired now. I just want to rest."

He pulled her back up to his chest, purposely misinterpreting her words as he removed the extra pillows and then laid her back in the bed instead. Brushing her hair back from her face, he smiled. "You rest, then. I'll get the Hatter and I'll be back before you know it."

Killian pulled the blankets up around her shoulders and reached to turn off the overhead light. He met her heartbroken look with one of his own, kissing her softly once more. "I love you so much, Emma."


The trip to DunBroch was completed at an all-out sprint, something in the tone of Emma's voice haunting him through the meeting with Merida and the trek to the spring. Thankfully, he didn't encounter a single problem and had a full flask of the water to bring back with him. The hermit who resided in a cave under the waterfall that overflowed from the underground spring had been most helpful. Stories of all of DunBroch's residents who had found their saving graces with the water filled Killian's ears and the optimism Swan's family had been lacking seemed silly now. They had simply been looking in the wrong places – this water had healed all types of curses and spells. Everything would be all right as soon as he could get back to Emma's side. With this newfound confidence, Killian didn't bother to stop moving until Jefferson had thrown the Hat and he waited with thinly veiled impatience as they had to wait for the portal to open widely enough. They were through to Storybrooke in an instant and Killian didn't bother listening to the Hatter's threats that he wasn't going to do this again. He wouldn't have to; the water would work.

He saw Henry wander around the corner when he reached Emma's floor in the early morning's light, something about the dejected slump of the boy's shoulders almost enough to dampen his good mood. Whatever it was, seeing his mother healed would trump any teenage angst that was plaguing the boy on his way to school, so Killian kept moving to her room. Just a few gulps and they'd both be able to go after her son.

Killian wasn't sure exactly what it was about the hermit's stories that had gotten his hopes up so high, but he was ecstatic when Emma gave him a baleful glare, but wearily drank down the entire flask of water anyway.

She took a deep breath and was doubled over by the hacking coughs that left her sobbing for breath. The color drained even further from her face and it was too much effort to hold her head up or even keep her eyes open.

Killian collapsed soundlessly into the chair at Emma's bedside when his legs would no longer support his weight. Hiding his face behind his right hand, Killian tried not to let the devastation of another false lead break him. Emma had been so strong for him in the Underworld, saving him from himself, so the least he could do now was keep fighting for her. "I'm sorry it didn't work, Swan. Let me just call Belle and I'm sure we can find something else."

"Belle isn't coming back, Killian." The pirate shot to his feet and took two steps towards the door.

"Of course she is. She can't just…"

Emma cut him off before he could run off to berate the librarian. "I called Belle right after you left. I told her to stop looking."

Killian couldn't breathe. "Why? Why would you do that? There's still a whole library full of books to go through and I'm sure we'll find something."

The thumping of his heart and the tunneling of his vision was terrifying, but the words that came out of Swan's mouth were even more so. Killian fought to box his emotions back into the corner of his heart that was guarded more heavily than Hades' prison had been. His pain wasn't important at the moment; Emma's was. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and scrubbed his fingers through the scruff of his beard. Clearly he needed to build her hope back up, he just wasn't sure how. Not when his was already so ravaged by his failure. "Emma…"

"Isn't it enough yet, Killian? Haven't we fought this curse enough yet?" Emma's voice startled him out of his plan to bolster her courage and his head shot up to lock his gaze on her. She looked absolutely wrecked – her hair was limp around her face, her eyes sunken in and bags under them – and she was still the most beautiful sight he'd ever been blessed to look upon. But something in her eyes was broken. The look that he had seen in Snow and David's face after their last visit was now being mirrored in hers.

"I'm tired, Killian. I'm so tired and I'm ready to let go. You've done everything and more to find a way to fix this, but it's not going to be fixed." She broke off to cough weakly into her elbow and Killian felt his heart begin to shatter. "I made Henry understand earlier that there aren't going to be any more fruitless treasure hunts. He gets it. I need you to get it, too."

Killian watched as she dropped her head back down to the pillow. It took her awhile to catch her breath again, but she continued her speech. "I love you, and I'm not ready to go just yet, but I need you here; with me. I need to know that I'm going to wake up to your arms around me, to breathe you in and rely on your strength, not wonder what realm you've dragged Jefferson off to now."

Time stopped. Nothing made sense. Even if Emma wanted him here, there were plenty of other people who could take over for him. It didn't mean they needed to give up just to give her the comfort he had been selfishly withholding from her. He told her as much, but she rebuked him.

He tried a different angle. If she wouldn't keep fighting for herself, then maybe he could be enough of the cad he'd once been to play on her love for him. "Emma, luv, please. I can't…I can't do this without you, not now. You saved me; you brought me back from the brink so many times and it's because of you that I am the man my brother can be proud of. I can't just watch you die."

But Emma saw right through him. "I can't get my hopes up again, Killian. We're not giving up; we're just taking advantage of the time that's been given to us."

He sunk back down into the chair. "Emma, no. You have so much left to do. I wanted to give you the world, and all I've given you is this." His chin dropped to his chest as the argument sucked all of the hope out of him.

A few more moments of strained silence bounced between them as Emma summoned the strength to plead her case once more. "It's all right. Killian, it's all right. You gave me a future that I never dreamed I could have. You've made me so happy; you and Henry. But this is all we get. And I'm okay with that. I need you to be okay with that, too. Please, you have to let me go."

Killian couldn't draw in a breath. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't understand what she was saying. Only he could understand it all too well. He had seen her health deteriorate over the weeks that she had been under this curse, he had seen her struggle to be the strong woman he had fallen in love with in the hellhole of Neverland. He knew that she had held on for longer than anyone else in this blasted town could have. Now it was his time to hold on for her. To fight against his instincts to push onwards. To be in the moment and make that be enough.

Killian was vaguely aware of the tears that were pouring down his cheeks unchecked. He was pulling hard on the hair at the base of his skull and his hook was rubbing incessantly up and down his thigh. It took an undetermined amount of time to finally get his emotions under enough control that he could check on Emma. When he finally raised his head, she was curled on her side watching him sadly. She smiled at him and extended her hand to intertwine their fingers once more. The ghost of a tug had him climbing into bed with her.

Emma surprised him when she rolled to her back and cradled his head on her chest. Slim fingers scratched at his scalp and toyed with the charms around his neck. The curse was sapping her very life from her body, and Emma was trying to comfort him. That realization started up the waterworks again and he soaked the neck of her gown as he finally let his anguish bubble to the surface unhindered.

Killian sobbed into Emma's shoulder long after his own reserves of energy were depleted and there were no tears left to shed. Through it all, she was his rock, holding him to her chest and running her hand up and down his back soothingly. He heard the sweet nothings she whispered over his forehead and let the soft timbre of her voice finally lull him to sleep.