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I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along
~ My Immortal by Evanescence
~ Him ~
Emma eyed the potion in her hands warily, carefully swinging the tiny vial back and forth, observing the thick, fluid liquid trembling in its glass container.
She was seated cross-legged on the cold, grassy ground in the middle of the dense forest, away from prying eyes and concerned minds that would have surely attempted to stop her had they known what she'd been up to.
Just one time, she told herself. One illusion and she would throw the potion away. She needed to see him just once, to tell him exactly how much she loved and missed him, to let him know she hadn't forgotten about him, about all the good times they'd shared that would forever be seared into her memory.
To tell him she'd kept the house that was to be theirs. And that she missed him every single day, wishing he'd been there with her to share the home that had felt so lonely without him in it.
He just needed to hear it once.
Carefully, Emma brought the vial to her mouth, allowing a small drop to stain her tongue, just as instructed by the former Dark One. The liquid tasted sweet, with small, barely noticeable traces of sourness mixed into its thick compound.
She closed her eyes as she swallowed, her thoughts wandering to him, all of their moments replaying before her eyes like a sad documentary.
Please, come back, she wished, hoping her desires would trigger the potion, make the illusion more real, more lifelike. I need you.
A few moments had passed in deafening silence, not even a bird or an insect to be heard, and Emma opened her eyes to take a curious glance around. Where was he? He should have been here by now. He should have been calling her love, shouting out bloody hells, and been his insufferable self that she'd fallen in love with.
Gold hadn't tricked her, had he? Had the old bastard really been so stupid as to trick a sorceress with magic greater than his own, for now he had none and was no match for her in the state of great, vengeful anger?
Surely, he wouldn't dare do such a thing.
Just as she was about to curse Gold and his trickery out loud, a familiar voice she never thought she'd hear again said: "You called, love?"
She turned around and for a moment, for just a small, fragile little moment, her throat tightened as her heart started to beat like crazy, as if close to exploding out of her chest.
Emma slowly stood up, her legs wobbly and unstable, barely strong enough to support her weight.
"Killian."
His name fell easily from her lips, its taste sweet, a mixture of all things nice and pretty that reminded her of him.
"One and only," he said, raising a cocky eyebrow.
He was exactly as she'd remembered him; tall and handsome, clad in leather from head to toe, that signature eyeliner circling his dangerously gorgeous yet romantic eyes, making the beautiful, lovely blue in them stand out like a droplet of light amidst the darkness.
"You came!" Emma exclaimed, unable to hide the joy from her still trembling voice.
Tears of joy rushed to her eyes, sliding down her burning cheeks like a salty waterfall. Opening her arms wide and welcome, she sprinted over to him, ready to envelop him in the tightest of hugs. Her lips had already prepared to meet his once again, her fingers ready to entwine with his own long, slender ones, her aching skin burning with desire to feel his against her own.
Only, instead of her body crashing into his as she'd hoped, she passed right through him.
Right through a ghost that he truly was.
And the world she'd so desperately wished to recreate for just one blissful moment came crashing down in a heartbeat, shattering into ruins of what was lost and could never be found, not even in the form of a lie.
"I don't understand," she whispered, her voice strained, distant. She turned back to him, observing his beautiful features, his almost regal composure, his smile that was as seductive and adorable as ever.
"I'm not real, love," he said, that accent of his she'd grown to adore bearing hints of sadness. "You know that."
Emma swallowed, hard. Of course she knew, but still, she'd hoped it would be real for only a moment.
To touch him.
To hold him.
To kiss him.
To have him in her arms.
"But Gold said…"
"That I would be back," Killian finished for her. She could tell it was as hard for him as it was for her. It was only natural, she thought with a bitter, silent laugh. He was her. "Not that I would be real."
"But you have to be!" she screamed, pleading at him, begging him to say that this was all just a joke and that he would make himself tangible, allow her to feel the touch of his hand just one final time.
His glance softened, unshed tears glistening in those gorgeous eyes that always made her mad with desire. "You and I both know that's not possible."
"What am I supposed to do now?" she asked.
It took all her willpower not to fall to her knees and shatter into thousands of pieces. How pathetic must she be, to plead and beg an illusion she'd conjured up herself, the part of her mind she'd made come alive and pretend to be the man she loved.
The man she'd lost forever.
"Move on," Killian said, taking a slow, cautious step closer toward her, his hand reaching for hers, stopping only an inch away for their hands would never meet, no matter how hard she desired it.
"I can't do that," she confessed. She dared her hand to rise, tearing up as it went right through his, like he was just a fantasy, a fragment of her imagination.
Which he was, she reminded herself. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise, this wasn't Killian.
This was only a part of her mind pretending to be him.
"I love you so much," she sobbed, all her dams broken, letting emotions out like raged rivers.
"I know, darling," he soothed like a father would a frightened child. "And I know it hurts. But this isn't healthy. Grief is natural, Emma. It hurts now, but with time it will get better. You will find someone, and you will be happy, and all of this will be just a bad memory."
"I don't want anyone else!" Emma exclaimed, outraged that he would even suggest such a thing. "I want you!"
"You can't have me," he told her. His expression darkened, the tone of his voice somewhat stricter, rougher as he continued with his little speech. "It's killing you, and you want to live this lie because talking to an illusion is easier than getting over your grief like a normal person!"
She narrowed her eyes at him, eyeing him suspiciously, the hurt obvious in her fragile glance. "Why are you doing this to me?" she demanded.
There she was, stooping so low as to argue with herself. An illusion taking on the form of her beloved, but still, that was herself that was challenging her, herself that she was shouting at.
"You're doing it to yourself! Have you forgotten? I am not Killian Jones," he pointed out the obvious truth, one she hadn't had the courage to admit out loud for it hurt too much to even think about it. "I'm just a fragment of your mind; grief you can't get yourself to let go of!"
She scoffed in disdain. First she let the darkness get its clutches on him. She'd had his best intentions in mind, but still, it was her who'd turned him into the thing he'd hated the most, the thing that had turned him against her when she needed him most.
Then she'd killed him, emotionally ruining herself in the process, destroying all their hopes and dreams of a better future, a promise of love that would now never come true.
And now she couldn't even conjure a hallucination right.
Why couldn't this fake Killian be nice and comforting, like she'd wished for him to be? Why couldn't he be him, the kind, gentle man she'd fallen in love with? Why couldn't he be nice and make promises – empty promises, but promises nonetheless – that one day they will be happy together, just the two of them?
"I can't talk to you when you're being like this!" Emma said, her own voice betraying her, breaking apart as soon as the last syllable left her lips.
"That's so you, Emma!" Killian said. "You always run instead of facing your problems!"
"I didn't run from you!" she snapped.
She'd been there for him the entire time, just as he'd been there for her. She even went as far as going against his wishes, just to keep him by her side, to never let him go for she'd already lost too much.
She was willing to let him hate her for it, but at least he would be here, alive and well. A Dark One, but among the living.
It may had been a selfish act, but it was done out of nothing but love.
They say true love triumphs all. Why couldn't theirs, she thought bitterly, last for a little bit longer? Her parents' one was strong enough to surpass every obstacle that came in its way. Regina had found Robin, her long ago promised happy ending. Even Belle and Rumple were working on mending what was broken.
Why couldn't Killian and Emma had had the same luck? What made their love worth less than all the others'?
Seeing the pain on her face, Killian's face softened back to the one she'd been fond of. The one she'd missed with all her heart. "This time you have to. You have to let me go."
"I can't," she sobbed, her entire self a wreck. "I need you in my life. I can't live without you."
"You can, and you will."
She shook her head wildly, refusing to give in to his words.
Lies. All of them. How could he expect her to give him up just like that, without a protest or fight?
How could the part of her mind that had formed the image of him expect her to just let all of it go into oblivion?
How could she, albeit subconsciously, even think of such a thing?
"I'm not ready," she whispered, more to herself than to him.
She would never be ready for a move like that.
Losing him had nearly destroyed her.
Forgetting him would surely kill her.
"How am I supposed to let you go?"
"You just are," was his simple reply, that devil of a smirk finding its way back onto his lips. "Believe in yourself, love. Like I believed in you."
"I–" before she got to finish her sentence, his body had started to fade, blending in with the surroundings. It grew paler, its form more of that of a ghost than an almost lifelike hallucination.
In a matter of seconds, he was gone for good.
Again.
Her one hour was up, Emma realized. It had passed before she'd even had a chance to say all the words and phrases she'd been aching to share with him, all the things she felt he needed to know.
Before she had a chance to say the goodbye they'd both deserved.
Oh, well.
It was just a one-time thing, anyway.
Stay tuned, folks, and keep the reviews coming! There are two more chapters left.
