I couldn't help but ask
For you to say it all again.
I tried to write it down
But I could never find a pen.
I'd give anything to hear
You say it one more time,
That the universe was made
Just to be seen by my eyes.
There's another wave of pain that surges through him. It feels like his soul is being sliced in two, but it's gone just as quickly as it came, leaving nothing but a faint buzzing in its wake. Killian slumps back against the wooden chair, chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath.
"Killian?" A woman's voice calls out to him, making him look up from the dark wood of the desk - the corners of his eyes still blurred. "What do you mean 'It's Emma'?"
"I - I felt her heart. I felt someone crushing her heart." His voice is strained, words falling from his mouth like tears from his eyes.
"How can someone crush her heart? I thought that wasn't possible?"
"Well I felt it, so it bloody well is possible." Anger rises from his gut, not at The Princess but at himself - at the situation they're in.
There are a few moments of silence, all unsure of how to proceed next. Eyes darting between them for unspoken miracles.
"I hate to be the one to ask this," the former Dark One speaks up, clearing his throat in the process. "But can you still feel her? Or is she dead?"
"I. . ." He always brushed it off as a symptom of his feelings for her, that magnetic pull she holds on him nothing more than an aftereffect of the great love he had - has - for her. It's the same feeling he encountered when she cradled his heart in her hands, looking at him with wide eyes and a timid smile. It felt safe; it felt like coming home. And it stayed that way, even after she put the organ back where it belonged, that all consuming grasp that encased his beating heart. The rhythm sending out a tune of her name, a constant beat of Em-ma, Em-ma, Em-ma. It only got stronger when she vanished, after she placed his hand on her chest, whispered the words I love you into the howling wind. Though the feeling changed, from something light and hopeful to something heavy and despairing. And as his family (and The Crocodile) stare at him, he's disillusioned to find that he can't feel it, can't feel anything but his own heart. No beating of her name, no undissolving warmth flooding his bloodstream. "I don't know."
"Then, I believe I know where she is." The room's eyes move to Gold, Killian's eyebrow raised in question. "There's only one way to crush her heart and only a small handful of beings able to do so. You'd have to be a god."
"What, like. . .like Hercules?" Henry asks with a hint of disbelief.
"The guy from that moving picture? The one with the horse with wings?"
"Yeah!"
"Now see here, if I've learned anything from movie nights with you and your mother, it's never to trust what this realm thinks of you."
"Okay, okay, let's get back to the task at hand." David interjects.
"Mate, you'd be infuriated too if you knew what this realm thinks of you, constantly singing and prancing around in tights."
"Alright, that's enough you two." Snow places her hands between them, pushing them away from each other. "What were you saying, Gold?"
"To crush her heart, you would have to be a god."
"So those are real, too?" Henry questions.
"I met Poseidon, God of the sea. So, presumably the others are too. It's not that far fetched, really. Where is she, Crocodile?"
"My guess is as good as yours, dearie. But given the. . .odd circumstances of her disappearance, I'd wager that The Underworld is not too far off."
"But isn't that where…" The lad's voice trails off, looking to his grandparents for comfort.
"Yes and since the Captain here just felt her heart being crushed…"
"Don't you dare say it!" Killian jumps forward, grabbing Gold by the collar. "Don't you dare put that out there. She isn't dead."
"Are you sure?" He lashes back, that sadistic smirk rising on the imp's face. Killian takes a deep breath, jaw clenching as he pushes the old man back into a chair. He doesn't think twice before turning towards the library doors - rushing out to be anywhere but here. The last thing he hears before the doors slam shut is Mary Margaret's voice saying to let him go.
-/-/-
Killian lets out a ragged breath as he settles himself on the railing of the helm, staring up at the stars that litter the sky above. With another shallow breath, he recalls a night, weeks back, when he sat in this very spot with Emma - telling her about the stars and the ways to use them as your guide - to help ease her mind after her parents' secret was revealed. Telling her stories of his days out at sea, how each realm has their own set of constellations - though some shine so bright that they pass through the barriers and can be seen in multiple worlds. Like The Cygnus, Killian had said with a scratch behind his ear, That one can be seen anywhere - even Neverland. He can still see the smile that graced her features, the one where she bites her lip and ducks her head. Where her cheeks get a shade redder than their usual tint of soft pink.
He runs his hand across his chest, lingering over his Swan's tattoo as his eyes glisten with tears. Killian ducks his head down, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the hull of The Jolly Roger. The sea used to be his calm, but over the years it's shifted to something else. Someone else.
"Emma." He murmurs her name, raising his chin and opening his eyes to look back at the inky black sky. Killian takes another deep breath, as more tears fall against his cheek. "I'm so sorry, Emma. Gods, I -" He stumbles on his words, wiping his hand furiously across his face. "You're out there suffering and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I promised you, I promised I'd protect your heart and the minute you need me to...I may never get the chance to tell you this in person, but...I love you, Emma. I've always loved you, since the day you held that damn dagger to my throat and tied me to a bloody tree for the ogres to find." He chokes out a laugh at the memory - his brilliant, enraged lass with the sun reflecting off her hair and fire in her eyes. Looking every bit the siren he knew she was. "Do you remember that night after you gave me my heart back? When we sat in my quarters at the Inn and I told you everything that happened between me and The Crocodile? And you chucked that bloody book to the wall, rather close to my face? I don't think I'd ever seen you so furious with me. Though I deserved it, lying to you like I did. Keeping secrets from you. At least I thought that's why you were angry, but it wasn't; you said you understood that part. You were more upset about the fact that I thought I needed both hands to be with you...I almost told you that night - how much I love you, watching you pace across the room, spitting out curses that would have my crew turning red. You're bloody magnificent, love, always have been." It shouldn't hurt to remember her. Then again, he shouldn't have to remember her at all. She should be here, by his side - with her family - not dwindling away in some godforsaken land, possibly losing faith in them. (In herself.) "I only wish there was a way for me to tell you - to give you a sign that we're coming, that we haven't given up hope. I wish you knew, Swan, how hard we're all working, how much we need you, how much we love you - how much I love you." He shakes his head, tries to settle himself. "I'm sorry, Emma. I'm so sorry."
-/-/-
"Hello Princess," Hades struts in, with calculated, forceful, steps. Emma ignores him, keeping her tear-stained face against the cool of the rocks, waiting for her body to cave in on her. At least then she'll have some finalization, muscles that have withered down to nothing no longer heavy against her bone. And her heart..."Was it worth it? Falling in love, trusting in people?" His voice reverberating off the walls, pouring itself into her soul. She didn't know. She didn't care. Lifetimes ago, she was a Savior, a mother, a daughter, a victim of love; but now she's not even sure if she'd recognize her own name. "Too many titles, darling?" She should have been stronger, and she hates herself for that. "I believe it's time, Swan." Hades grabs her, forcing her head forward to a mirror, one hand a greedy, rigid grip at the top of her head, the other a forceful palm against the base of her neck, so that her only line of defense is to shut her eyes, but part of her fears that they may never reopen if she does.
She sees Mary Margaret, David, and Henry flash across the glass as Hades whispers in her ear. "Look at them, the perfect family. One that you were never truly a part of. Your parents, if you can even call them that - they didn't raise you! They gave you up. And Henry, well he's lived most of his life without you. You're simply the woman that gave birth to him. Regina did all the heavy lifting. You're just a little lost girl, who doesn't matter and never will. Killian can just go back to his pirating ways, sleep his way out of missing you. It worked for you with Henry's father, right?"
She opens her mouth to speak, but even defending herself now seems worthless. Silence is an easier rebellion and talking hurts anyway. So she relaxes into his hold until he departs, falling limp on the ground.
-/-/-
Any restful nights were few and far between. The fragrance on Emma's pillow no longer smelled of her, so Killian clung to her jackets when he was sure the house was asleep. He dreamt of her often, beautiful dreams where she wakes warm in his arms echoing the last words he heard her whisper against the screeching sky. And here, finally, he can say it back. But there's also terrible dreams, where she's whisked away, her heart suddenly in the hands of an evil sorcerer, who squeezes it until it turns to dust, her body falling numb on the ground, a last cry of I trusted you. I trusted you to protect me. It's easier to not sleep. Sometimes he settles for pacing around the small bedroom, others he quietly escapes outside where the air is not as stuffy and the noise barrier is not a concern.
His body is jolted awake from the image of Emma locked away in a cell, her heart crumbling slowly until the last morsel sends her collapsing to the ground. Immediately, his hand runs across his heart, once, twice, five times. He can't feel her. The fear is too much, so he throws the blankets off and begins pacing back and forth.
The Underworld is the stuff of myths and legends, Misthaven's version of a fairytale. And while it made sense for her to be there, he couldn't accept that. She would have to be dead, or bloody close to it. He can hear himself murmuring quiet whispers, choked sobs of her name and a plea to please be okay. He's surrounded by her belongings, little reminders that she's not here. She's not even with him and she's taking his oxygen away, clouding his vision because she's all he can think about.
He remembers the sheets, light and airy as they hovered over her bare skin, her hair a wreck as she captured his lips with hers, smiling into his mouth. The feel of her body arched above his own, eyes growing darker, fidgeting with his necklace, their bodies pressing into each other until they were one.
He remembers family movie nights, the way she'd settle herself on the floor with her son, a bowl of popcorn between the two, sitting back against the couch between his legs. The way his hand would run through her hair, her contented sigh as she leans her head against his knee. That sparkle in her eyes when she'd laugh - turning her head to look back at him and make sure he was laughing too (and if he wasn't, an explanation to the joke already on the tip of her tongue).
What he can't remember is what it felt like to have her head nuzzled into his shoulder, the smell of her shampoo, the warmth of her lips against his neck. The calmness and comfort that overtakes him when he's in her presence. She's his own version of a siren, charming him to her until she's a part of him. Turning his world upside down and right side up, helping him - forcing him - to change himself. Be a better version of the man he was, to be someone worthy enough to cradle her in his arms.
And to fathom the thought that she could be dead, that his Swan is no longer a part of this world, more or less kills him. He needs her. She is his center, his sun - the bloody moon and the stars, his whole damn universe. A part of him envies the man he used to be, the one that depended on no one but himself. The man who never knew light, who never knew Emma Swan - that miraculous being of sunlight who filled all the cracks of his battered heart with the most pure love to ever exist.
Killian takes a deep breath, runs his hand roughly through his already tousled hair, as he takes another lap around the small room. It's suffocating, he feels trapped, like the walls are caving in on him and he can't bear to stay here a minute longer.
He moves about the room as quickly and quietly as he can, pulling on his jacket and grabbing his shoes - practically tiptoeing down the metal stairs. He's about to make contact with the door when a woman's voice stops him.
"Leaving the house isn't going to make you feel better, you know," Mary Margaret calls from the couch, a cup of tea nestled between her hands.
"I was uh -"
"I know. I could hear you pacing, which you usually do before making a trip to the docks, or wherever it is you go after."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. I understand the need to escape." The brunette moves to the side of the sofa, patting the now open spot next to her. "Talk to me, Hook."
"I'm just bloody frustrated is all." He shakes his head in defeat, tossing his shoes to the floor before joining her.
"We all are."
"It shouldn't be this hard." Though he should have known, loving Emma would be anything but easy. The months, years, it look to finally win her heart proof of that. His bloody stubborn lass. "Why does she make everything so damn difficult?"
"You're angry?"
"I'm bloody irate." Killian shoots up from the couch, and it's like a dam is broken. All the pent-up anger, frustration, sadness, and grief rising like a summer tide. Rolling in and crashing against the shore with painful accuracy.
"At Emma?"
"No, yes, no...I don't know." He drops his head in his hand, tongue running across his bottom lip. "Everything, I'm angry at everything and I hate myself for it. Especially the part of me that's angry at her because I shouldn't be. I shouldn't be mad at Emma for being the person I fell in love with but I am. I lost her again and this time I don't know if I'll ever get her back. She went to the one place I can't follow."
"You don't know that, Killian. There is always a way."
"Not if she's already gone."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't feel her heart. It's almost like trying to sail a ship with wind but no sails. I've lost our connection." He slumps back against the cushions, exhaustion setting into his bones - the emotional turmoil finally taking its toll.
"No you haven't, Killian." Snow runs her hand over his shoulder, an action Emma has done on numerous occasions and it hurts. Burns another hole through his already broken heart.
"Yes I have! She's dying! Her heart is withering away. It's like he crushed a part of it and left the rest. I am supposed to protect her heart; it's my job as her…" He stops because voicing it aloud only solidifies his insufficiency. "But I'm failing and because of that she's dying. What if I can't get to her in time and she dies before I can save her? Or what if I make it there but it's too late and I have to watch her die?"
"Killian," She turns his face to look at her, with the gentle touch only a mother would have - a softness and grace he has long forgotten. "I have those fears too. I'm her mother, but I've lost her to curses and darkness three times. And I wonder if anything I ever do will be enough, or if I'm just growing closer to her so that somehow it might hurt more when I lose her again." She sighs and it makes him feel a little less detached from the rest of the world. "You got her to open up her heart. And she loves you so much. I see it every time she looks at you, when she talks about you. You've brought her happiness. And you've always loved her. I know you and I know that you will stop at nothing to save her. These fears are legitimate, yes. And they aren't just going to disappear. But if there's anything I've learned, it's that dwelling on them is counterproductive. Even when it seems too late, know that it's never too late for true love. If David can wake me from a sleeping curse after I ate a poisoned apple, then you can save Emma from The Underworld."
