AN: Written for the events in Swan Song that sparked my love of HookedQueen again. Since the Evil Queen came back to Storybrooke (and hit on Rumple), I and several others have been hoping for confirmation on what happened in the carriage scene. So, I wrote this little one shot for anyone who ever loved HQ and just for the fun of it. Read and Review if you'd like, just don't comment hate.
He loved her. The fiery tongue which rolled off every fighting word. The way her eyes sparkled when she laughed or when she smiled. The way she held herself so strong, so proud, even when she was scared or when she was backed into a corner. He hadn't loved Milah this way, hadn't felt so strongly about her the way that he felt about Emma. She was his second chance. He gently brushed away a strand of hair from her cheek as she slept, tucked up in his arms. It wasn't that lying to her had been what he wanted. He had spent the night restless, twisting and turning before settling with her on his chest unable to sleep. Keeping the shears was the right thing to do, he kept telling himself. He wouldn't use them without her permission, that had to be her call. But what if they couldn't find something else to save her? There had to be a way out, there had to be an option for the lack of all their searching and heroism failing to turn up something else. Regina, who had gone as far as to rip out her evil half, had lost part of her happy ending when Robin died. He knew the evidence pointed to Emma dying because she was a savior, but he couldn't help but feel like he was partially responsible for what could be her fate. He had refused to stop chasing after her, he had relentless pursued the spark he felt they had. She had returned his feelings, of course, after he had just tried to be there for her and she let her walls down. But, he was still the villain. He had turned into the darkness so quickly once he felt wronged by Emma in Camelot. He had given his life for her and her family to fix his own mistake, but she had followed him to hell. And here he was, just trying to have the future they had both so desperately fought for. She didn't follow his wishes, and now he wasn't following hers. They repeatedly found themselves in this cycle, lying to each other and making decisions without the other's approval. It made it hard to believe that for as much as they loved each other, it could be good for them in the long run.
He rolled out of bed and started to get ready for the day. The shears were still tucked into his leather jacket, hung up in his half of the closet. He slid the cold leather over his arms, looking back at Emma once more. She was still sleeping, now curled up into his side of the bed with her head on his pillow. "Sorry, Swan," he whispered. He reached inside his pocket for insurance, running his fingers across the cold metal. It would be so easy to use them right now, with her parents and Regina at their own homes, and Henry fast asleep in his own bedroom. He paused. Would she feel pain? Would Henry hate him for taking away what had brought him together with his birth mother? Surely, whatever place he had in the family would be taken away by this act. But, she would live to see another battle.
He walked out of the room, carefully walking through the halls and down the stairs towards the shed. He wouldn't use them forcefully. He would leave them for her to decide when and if they couldn't find another option. He growled upon opening the door, seeing an all too familiar form sitting on the wooden table, long tanned fingers drumming on the shiny red surface of a bright red apple. "You," he glared, reaching for his gun.
"Now, that won't be necessary will it, Captain," the Evil Queen smiled, twisting her hand into a cloud of purple smoke. The sword appeared in her hand before she placed it on the table next to her. She twisted towards him, the purple of her dress tight around her body, lace trimming her more feminine features. "You've been a very naughty boy, haven't you," she snickered, smiling proudly. "Almost if you haven't changed at all."
"I'm not going to let you near Emma," he glared. She laughed as she stood up, running her hand around his cheek.
"You're the one who is going to hurt Emma," she smiled, reaching out her hand roaming down his chest as she quickly grabbed the shears from the inner pocket. "You were always quite passionate when you were blinded by love," she whispered into his ear, each word rolling off her tongue slower than the next.
He stood still, the hate in his eyes never wavering. His hand reached out for the shears, grabbing them tightly in his hold. "I will not bloody hurt Emma," he growled lowly, but the guilt was still clearly there.
"Emma," she chuckled, moving away from him. "You've settled rather low, Killian," she smiled as he saw him involuntarily shudder at the way she used his first name. "How would she feel if she knew more about your romantic pasts, I wonder? Surely, you haven't told her everything. Not. About. Me," she chuckled.
He smirked. "Whatever occurred between us happened between two villains. I'm not the same man I was." The Evil Queen chuckled as she stepped forward once more, curling her fingers around the back of his neck.
"You and your crocodile are so much more alike then you will ever admit. He settled for the bookworm who would never accept him, and you settled for the savior whose family will never want you with their daughter." She laughed, planting a gentle kiss on his lips. "We will see which of you comes running back to the darkness first. Then, the real fun can begin."
She disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke as he pressed his finger against his lips, the shears slightly loser in his other hand. Yet another secret he now held. He closed his eyes tightly, tilting his head back softly.