The sound of a distant explosion echoes in the diner and Charming's coffee cup rattles in its saucer as Granny tops it off.

Not that she spills a drop. As if.

"How long are we going to just sit here and let this happen?" he asks Snow for the seventh time.

"David, if you want to walk out into that storm, be my guest," Snow snaps as she bounces a fussy Neal and passes a sandwich to Roland. The diner is packed, the residents of Storybrooke taking refuge from the showdown currently playing out on their streets. Regina's protection spell holds strong, if only because the two Dark Ones are too focused on each other to bother with the rest of the town.

"I still can't believe this is happening, how Emma could be so stupid," Regina huffs. "It's like arming a petulant toddler with a nuclear missile."

Snow rolls her eyes. "Regina, we all know you would have done nothing less if you had been in her position, so just shut it. We need to focus on keeping everyone safe and figuring out how to get this darkness out of them both before it destroys the town. Which," a swirl of smoke outside the window upends a car, sending it rolling into the haberdashery across the street, "might happen sooner rather than later."

"Was there any of that magical fix-it dust left in Arthur's things?" Robin asks Charming.

"God, I hope so," Charming manages to reply before another explosion sounds.

.

.

.

Emma pants as she rolls to her feet, magic singing in her blood and buzzing along her skin. Crouching behind a rusty Volvo, she tries to catch her breath before calling out to him in a low, controlled voice. "I'm starting to think you're not even trying."

She doesn't mean to taunt him, as it's not the smartest thing to do to a newly-christened Dark One, but she can't resist.

She's a Dark One too, after all.

She also knows he can't fully control his magic, which gives her an advantage. But she also knows the darkness is deeper in him that it is in her- just as he warned her it would be- which gives him an advantage. Then again, she's the savior. And so it goes on. But in the end, they love each other, so it's all pretty much a wash.

If only she could calm him down enough to see that reason.

Earlier, she found him facing off with Gold aboard the Jolly Roger, Excalibur a bright streak of silver as he swung it down upon his centuries-old enemy. The clash of metal sang through the air as Gold had countered the blow, and before Killian could strike again, she stepped in. The ropes of his own ship mutinied against him at her command, snaking around his arms and legs and binding him to the mast. In a swirl of smoke, she returned Gold to his shop, leaving her to face her enraged creation. Her True Love.

That's what this is all really about, anyway.

She scouts the alleyway next to Modern Fashions, disappearing and reappearing in it with a swirl of smoke. The leather of her jacket presses into the brick as she stands flush against the wall, listening for him. Silence. She's hesitant to reach out with her magic, knowing his will sense it. But maybe he's still too new to fully understand that? It's worth a shot, so she cautiously expands her magic along the street.

She knows it was a mistake a fraction of a second before he appears before her.

"Looking for me, darling?" he growls, pressing her back against the brick wall. His knee nudges between hers, and he settles close in that way that makes her blood fire. He cocks his head to the side, sweep of inky hair falling over his forehead as he trails a finger slowly up the exposed column of her neck. Her eyes flutter before she can stop them, a moan rising in her throat. A dimple winks to life on his cheek right before he shocks her with his magic, a little prick of electricity zapping along her skin.

The bastard.

She shoves him back with an angry blast of her own magic and bares her teeth, a flash of white against blood red lips. His grin is feral, blue eyes taunting as hers narrow in response. Thunder rumbles across the darkening sky, making her briefly consider leaving all together, regrouping at her house and giving herself time to calm down. But the dark pull of him is just too strong, so she stands her ground.

"So you want to play, then? Ok, let's play," she hisses. She is ice where he is fire, but then again, he's always had a flair for the dramatic, her pirate. She is much more calculating. She focuses on the multitude of buttons on his vest, popping them open one by one. Caught off guard by the odd attack, he looks down at the garment she is divesting him of, his momentary confusion giving her the opening she needs. Lowering her shoulder, she charges him, hearing his surprised grunt as she tackles him to the ground.

She lands on top of him, barely noticing the way his hand automatically reaches for her hip. She shimmies out from his grip, quickly scooting up his chest until his forearms are pinned with her shins. Crossing her arms, she looks down her nose gives him her archest look. "Ready to surrender yet, Captain? I really need you to listen to me."

"You fight dirty, Swan. I've always liked that about you," he grins, and for a moment, he almost looks like himself. Like her Killian. She feels herself softening for a split second before she's launched in the air, landing hard on her ass before springing back to her feet as he does the same. "But I fear you forget that I am much more versed in battle that you and I never surrender," he extends his hand towards the ground, which begins to crumble beneath her boots. A deep chasm splits the alleyway, leaving her balancing precariously on a thin column of pavement. Her eyes dart around, searching for a way to stay him, a way to restrain him long enough to try and get through to him. She spies the fire escape above his head, and she smiles.

"And you forget, Killian, I am simply much more," she says calmly as she flicks her wrist and summons the metal. The fire escape groans as it answers her call, its once-stiff bars becoming fluid as they descend and wrap around his arms, tugging him to his knees and anchoring him to the asphalt. He struggles, grunting and pulling at his iron restraints. But her magic holds strong against his, and he finally stills, sullenly looking up at her with hooded eyes. She hops gracefully over the chasm and steps close, tipping his chin up with her finger until his gaze fully settles on her. He looks so annoyed, so moody and huffy that she finally does soften. Bending down and bringing her face close to his, she cups his cheek and nudges his nose with her own.

"I need to you hear me out, to listen," she whispers, anger gone. She presses her cheek to his, chasing the warmth of his skin. Even like this, even as the Dark One, he's always so warm. "But you need to calm down first, Killian. You're letting your anger get out of control."

"I see, so now it's not even my choice as to how I can feel?" he retorts, struggling once again against his bonds.

She reels back as if slapped, his words delivering a fatal blow, and just like that the war is over for her.

"Just leave me be, Swan," his words are heavy with resignation and she loses it.

"No. I won't. You must listen," desperation fuels her as she steps close once more and grabs his face, shaking him slightly and willing him to see reason.

"Why? Why should I listen to anything you have to say? You did this to me!" his anger roars back to life. "How could you do this to me? You knew. You of all people knew it was the worst fate you could possibly sentence me to. I would have never dreamed you could be so cruel, but it seems I underestimated you, Swan," he sneers and her heart shatters.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry, Killian. But I just couldn't. I love you too much to lose you. I cannot lose you," her own anger bubbling even as she can feel herself cracking under the weight of it all, the heaviness of her guilt weighing like a ton of bricks upon her broken heart. But she has to make him understand-she needs him to understand-so she steels herself and pushes on, finally admitting the truth. "I couldn't survive it, don't you get it?" her voice finally breaks, a traitorous tear escaping past her icy façade and trailing down her cheek. "I'm not a survivor like you."

His dark brow furrows as he watches the tear fall, eyes blinking and she can see the darkness warring behind them. But then they clear, and for the first time in days, she sees him.

"Emma," he croaks, dropping his forehead to her stomach. He turns his face into her softness, eyes shutting as he breathes her in and finally calms. "I only survive because you give me something to live for, my love."

Her fingers card through the thick locks of his hair, cradling him close as pricks of pain tear at her heart. She knows she was wrong to do this to him, to do the one thing he would never do to her: take away his choice. But the thought of losing him was simply too much to bear, and so there really had been no choice for her either. She will spend the rest of eternity seeking his forgiveness, because they have that now. Together. And for that, she can't be sorry.

"Will you come home?" she asks softly as she releases his bonds, stepping back. Dropping all pride, she holds out a trembling hand to him. He looks at it for a long second, long enough to have fear curling once more in her gut. But he finally takes it, fingers lacing with hers, the cool metal of his rings a welcome sensation against her skin. He looks down at her, the familiar blue eyes of the man she loves beyond reason.

"As you wish, love. As you wish."