AN: And here is part 2. I'm not sure how long this will be. I don't plan on making it some long, epic take on S5. So I think it will probably only be 3 to 5 chapters. But I hope you enjoy it!
You've Gone Somewhere Deeper
He wakes in the dark of night and knows that something isn't right.
It's been two weeks of seeking the Sorcerer. They have no portals between worlds here, but they do have Ariel. The mermaid has been swimming back and forth and between the realms while he and Belle have been scouring the library for anything that might help. The easy friendship that had developed is gone – he can't forget that Emma is what she is because of the Crocodile, and Belle can't bring herself to give up her love for him. But they manage a cordial enough relationship under a joint purpose.
He had been at the library late, only to the stumble to the loft and up to her room, falling into the bed that Emma had used. He had been hesitant at first, to accept the royals' invitation to stay with them. But then he had come here and lain on her bed, and the pillow had still smelled like her. That had made the decision easy.
He couldn't summon her, for fear that doing so would make everything more difficult for her. But he could fall into this bed and lose himself to exhaustion surrounded by the scent of her.
And so when he awakes, he knows that something is wrong.
It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light that the moon offers, shining through the window. When they do, they're drawn immediately to the chair next to the bed. The chair that wasn't there when he fell asleep.
Emma sits there, legs crossed, unsettling eyes watching him hungrily.
"Emma," he murmurs, and it doesn't matter to him that she looks more like a crocodile that Rumplestiltskin these days. He's simply too relieved to see her again, after two weeks of silence.
"Killian," she murmurs, her voice low and husky. She gets out of the chair and climbs onto the bed, until she's straddling him. She entwines her fingers with his, and he's reminded of that day, when they had come back from the Author's tale, and she had been so happy to see him…
There are no giggles or joyful hugs this time, though. She looks at him for a moment, then presses her lips to his neck, trailing them down to his chest. He's shirtless, and she takes full advantage, swirling her tongue around his nipple and making him throw his head back and stare up at the roof.
This is wrong. He can feel it in her actions. This isn't right… and it's not just because she's the Dark One. There's more… a darkness that wasn't there when last they met. But his body doesn't care. It responds to Emma's touch, like a drowning man responds to oxygen.
Emma is his oxygen. Has been nearly from the start.
"Love," he murmurs, trying to break his hand free from her grip. Her fingers tighten, her other hand drifting down the front of his body, to the erection that has begun to tent the sheets.
"Shh, Killian," she murmurs, her breath hot against his ear, and then she presses a kiss to the skin just below it. "You don't want to wake my parents up."
He gulps at the feel of her lips, her tongue, and his eyes drift shut. Then she giggles.
And he freezes.
That isn't her giggle. He's heard his Swan's giggle before. Admittedly not often, but enough that he cherishes each and every time. She had giggled as they'd tumbled to this very bed. When she had magicked his hook away. Her giggle is a sound that causes him joy, because it's a sure sign that she's happy, and she deserves to always be happy.
This giggle… oh, he's heard this giggle before. But never from her. Never from Emma.
He's heard it from the Crocodile.
It was the sound he'd made as he disappeared with Killian's hand, leaving him behind to hold a dying Milah. It was the sound he'd made when he'd decided to kill him in their adventure to the past, before Emma had stopped him.
He sits up, forcing Emma to move with him, and carefully extracts his wrist from her grip. She looks at him with a pout and falls back from him with a huff.
"You look so serious. Weren't you enjoying my little gift?"
There is a dark glint in her eyes as she speaks, and they rove over his chest with a clear interest. Once, he would have happily thrown himself back on the bed and let her fulfill the promises that interest offers. But this isn't once, and this isn't his Emma.
"Lass, you know how much I was enjoying it," he replies, cupping her cheek, running thumb along her chin. Denying it would be a lie, and both of them knew it. "But we both know that's not what you're here for."
She turns her face into his hand, for a moment he can practically feel his Emma in her again, as she closes her eyes and nuzzles against his hand. He leans in, presses a soft kiss against her lips –
And she recoils, her eyes flashing with anger and… is that fear?
Not Emma's fear.
The Dark One's fear.
"Emma-" he begins.
"You can't do that!" she snaps, and magic flares around her – dark and tainted and it causes Killian pain to see that. She takes a dark breath, and magic dies down, her shoulders relax, and her voice is calmer when she speaks again. "Remember, we can't just… break this. Not until we know what will happen."
The words are the right thing to say. They do have to be careful, of course. If they simply unleash the Dark One once more, they'll be back to where they started, Emma's sacrifice for naught. She makes perfectly valid points.
He doesn't buy it for a second.
He saw her eyes. This isn't Emma's logic. This is the Dark One's logic, and he's beginning to realize that there is a difference. That Emma is fighting against the darkness, and so they aren't one being, not as the Crocodile had been.
Emma is there and fighting, and Killian can get through to her.
"Emma. Love," he moves to her, and she backs away, until the rails are at her back, and he cups her cheek again. "I see you in there, Swan. You're a fighter, and I've never known you to fail."
He sees her there again, fighting with the darkness when her hand comes up to hold his. Her grip is tight, almost painfully so, but Killian revels in the pain. Because it's a sign that she's there and fighting.
"It's hard," she whispers, closing her eyes, and she looks so tired. Her shoulders curl, as though they're holding up a weight, and he notices the shadows under eyes. He wraps her in his arms, clutching her tightly to his chest. Her arms wrap around him in return, holding on as though for dear life.
"Don't let me go," she pleads, her voice muffled by his chest. Her hands are warm on his back, fingers digging into the muscle.
"Never," he swears, and he's never meant a promise more. He will never let go of her, not as long as she wishes him to hold her.
They somehow find their way back into the bed, Emma curled with her back to Killian's chest. She keeps their fingers entwined, as though that can somehow ground her to this moment of clarity she's managed to achieve. Killian buries his nose in her hair and closes his eyes, wishing that he could make this easier for her. That he could be the one to take on this burden.
"I want to say it," he whispers. "I want to say it so bad."
But he doesn't. Because she had asked him not to. Because when she heard the words from him, she wanted to be in her right mind, and Killian could only respect her request.
"I know," she says, her grip tightening once more. "I know. I still mean it."
I still mean it – I'm still me.
"Go to sleep, Swan," he murmurs, and he can feel her relax against him. He knows that he should remain awake. That while she is the woman he loves, she's also dangerous… and the darkness within her is clever and not inclined to go easily.
But he hasn't slept truly well since she left him, and soon he's following her into dreams. It's the best sleep he's had in over two weeks, since this Author mess began.
When he awakes the next morning, the room is a mess and he curses himself for a fool. Because the drawer where he had kept her dagger – and how could he be so stupid? Except it comforted him, to have it close. To be able to keep an eye on it – and he scurries out the bed, knocking the chair she had been sitting in the previous night over with a bang.
"Hook?" he hears the prince behind him, but he's not able to respond.
His shoulders have slumped as he stares down at the drawer, and all he feels is relief. The Dark One may have wanted to find the dagger, but Emma had won in the end. Of course she had – his Swan was a fighter.
The dagger is still there, gleaming up at him, Emma Swan written across its surface.
I still mean it.
AN: And I gave some hope in this one! Because that's the rules that I was given on Tumblr – that any CS angst I have must include some fluff. So this works, right? Thanks to everyone that's reviewed, and please let me know what you think!