A/N: Hey people! I don't normally write for this fandom, generally sticking to the Walking Dead recently, but I've done this little fic because the season 4 finale KILLED ME, and I can't wait four months to find out what happens! Basically, I need some kind of closure…you got me, this is my form of therapy, but I figured I'd share this for others in the same boat.

Spoilers obviously up to the season 4 finale. In no way do I think this is what the writers will do with our lovely characters…for one thing, there's just so much potential with Dark Emma! But I needed some kind of reunion, and fast, because Killian!

There will be two more chapters after this, and I'll try and get one up each day!

Enjoy, and leave a review if you feel so inclined (please xxx).

The Survivor and The Saviour

Chapter 1

The clatter of the dagger falling to the floor, as Emma's form disappeared in the cloud of black smoke, was followed by the thump of Killian's knees hitting the concrete as he felt all of the strength sucked from him. He barely registered the pain in his kneecaps, and his arms fell dejectedly to his sides, his eyes never leaving the shining, silver blade. It was too far away from him to be able to read the inscription, but he knew what was written across the metal; it was a name he was all too familiar with. One that he could feel etched into his heart, and could hear with every pulse of blood through his veins.

She had been there. In that other world he'd died to save her, despite not truly knowing who she was. It seemed that, although the author could take his memories, he could never touch the love he felt for her. He'd known her the very second he had seen her; had felt her right there, right inside his chest, always with him. So he had died for her, and then he'd found her again, and he had let himself believe that was it: the fight was over. She had been about to tell him she loved him, up there on her bed in the loft. He knew without a doubt that's what she had been about to say; she was an open book after all. So it didn't really even matter when she hadn't been able to say it.

But then she had. Just seconds ago, knowing she may never get the chance again, she had said it. I love you. She had said it, and he should have been the happiest man alive. But he wasn't, because then she had pushed him back, and she was gone. Just like that, she had left him, as a tangling blackness pulled her from his view, leaving only that bloody dagger in her wake.

A sob to his right brought him back to the present, as the ringing in his ears subsided. He pushed himself to his feet, needing to distance himself from the piercing sound of Emma's distraught mother. He needed to get away from here, from all of them, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from the dagger. He found his feet taking him towards the offending weapon against his will, and before he could register the action, he had crouched beside it and lifted it into his hand.

Emma Swan.

It was right there across the blade, just as he'd known it would be, in curling black calligraphy. And suddenly, the feeling of total loss he'd been drowning in morphed into anger, as his fist clenched tightly around the handle. He could feel himself shaking, his breathing short and erratic, his jaw clenched so tight that it sent an ache rippling through his entire skull.

And then he felt a solid hand on his shoulder. And the red fog cleared as the touch grounded him back to Earth.

"Come on," David said to him softly, his hand squeezing Killian's shoulder ever so slightly, "Let's go talk to the Apprentice. Maybe he'll have some answers."

Killian swallowed thickly, forcing back the angry tears that he hadn't realised had pooled in his eyes, before pushing himself to his feet once again. David's hand fell from Killian's shoulder, as he stepped back to pull his sobbing wife to her feet.

Just then, he heard quick footsteps from a little way down the street as Henry appeared from Granny's diner.

"What's going on?" the boy asked, "Where's my Mom?"

Killian couldn't bring himself to look at the boy. In fact, he couldn't draw his eyes away from the swirling letters on the dagger he still held. But he half heard as Regina explained to Henry what had happened.

He followed silently as they made their way back to Gold's shop, where the Apprentice now sat upon the bed, weak, but alive.

"What happened?" he asked.

"It took Emma," David said, clutching Snow against his side.

"Curious," the Apprentice said, almost to himself, "the Dark One is most powerful in a host with a strong propensity for darkness. Emma's darkness was removed before birth. I am surprised it didn't choose Regina."

"It did," Regina spoke up, "Emma…saved me. She took the darkness into herself."

Killian could hear the genuine guilt in the woman's voice, and he couldn't find it in himself to blame her for what had happened, as much as he wanted to find someone, anyone, to blame.

"I see. She is truly living up to her 'saviour' title," the Apprentice answered thoughtfully, "where is she now?"

"She disappeared," Regina continued, "the blackness engulfed her, and she was just gone. All that's left is the dagger."

Regina gestured for Killian to hand over the aforementioned weapon, and he woke from his silent stupor. He stepped forward, but found himself reluctant to release his hold on it; as if it were the one thing he had tethering him to Emma. With a gulp and a sharp breath, he forced himself to release it, handing it over to the old man, who turned it over in his hands several times.

"Where do you think she is?" Henry asked.

"Can we use the dagger to summon her?" David asked.

"That won't work if she's not in Storybrooke," Regina answered.

"I believe she is still here," the Apprentice told them, holding the dagger out in front of him, "and there's only one way to be sure. Dark One, I summon thee."

As she thrust the dagger out, forcing it into the tangle of black tentacles that swirled around Regina, she felt a coldness like no other. It started at her fingers that were clenched tightly around the handle, and spread with each swirl of dark smoke, crawling up her arm and further still. It squeezed and pulled at her, like sharp, icy fingers clutching at her skin and bones. The light from the streetlamps dimmed as the blackness swirled around her head, screeching like a banshee in her ears and sucking the oxygen from the air around her. She could just make out her family past the ever-thickening smoke obscuring most of her vision. But she could see Killian's eyes, blue and shining as he gazed at her imploringly. The devastation in his face and his posture filled her with a guilt so intense that she felt physically sick. But she had to do this. There was no other way.

She wanted to tell him she was sorry. Sorry she was taking away his happy ending. Sorry that he had to fall for her. She was supposed to be the saviour, but she couldn't save him from this. And most of all, she was sorry she had waited so long to tell him she loved him. Because she did. So much. And it had terrified her, because she had never felt love like that before. He and Henry were everything to her.

Henry.

Oh God. They were going to have to tell Henry what she'd done, and she couldn't even tell him how sorry she was for this. If she survived this, maybe then she could tell him. But that was a big if. Even if she did survive, she'd never be the same. Who knew what this darkness was about to do to her? She could hurt them all. She'd be dangerous. No, she couldn't let that happen. She needed to get away from this place. Now.

As the blackness around her became too thick to see anything, and Killian's face disappeared completely from her view, she knew she what she had to do. She'd never used her magic to teleport before, but she could already feel the blackness taking over her body, and she knew she had to try before it reached her mind. Her eyes fell on the dagger in her hand, and she felt the darkness inside lurch, as if reaching out for it hungrily, telling her to keep it.

With one last burst of energy, she threw it down in defiance, knowing that once she'd changed, her family needed the dagger to be safe from her. And then she closed her eyes, and focussed everything she had on getting away from this place.

She felt a whoosh, and a strange pressure upon her bones. Then she felt weightless, like she was falling, until she landed with a thud on the forest floor.