A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews. Honestly, this wouldn't have gotten done so quickly without them. :) xx
Chapter Seven: Burning
Emma's eyes flicked open as she felt the searing cold around her neck, the pain piercing through to her windpipe as she struggled for breath. And yet, the coolness of what she realized were hands, was almost a welcome respite from the heat that was flooding her body.
That being said, she wasn't about to die by choking.
Her hands went to whoever was above her, clawing at the hands around her neck whilst her eyes searched above her.
The minute she saw Killian, her body filled, not only with fire and ice, but with fear. A fear that went further than illness – reaching the deepest hideaways of her magic. A fear that boiled to the surface and knocked Killian Jones flying away from her, hitting the hard white hospital wall and falling to the ground in a clump.
Surprisingly, she felt much better physically after that, but her mind was hating herself as she jumped up, searching for Killian.
She opted to not tear the IV from her hand, grabbing the pole and moving as fast as her weak legs could carry her to where she collapsed beside Killian. As far as she could tell, her body was back to normal temperature and she was feeling fine.
"Killian?" Her fingers touched his face, feeling the cool sweat over his skin. There was something eerie going on here. Killian trying to throttle her? It wasn't him…It couldn't be him…
Somewhere in the distance, Emma thought she heard a piercing cry echo through the raging storm outside.
"Anna, what's wrong!" Elsa burst into the room, flinging her gloves aside as she sped towards her sister, lying heavily pregnant in her king-sized bed. Bowls of ice and wet towels were lying around as the darkness creeped in through the room. "What the hell is going on here?! Kristoff!"
Will came running in behind her. His proposal had been interrupted by Royal Messengers, but not before he got the ring on her finger. They were officially – well, not 'Royally' officially – engaged.
But that seemed to pale in comparison when they rushed to Anna's bedside.
"She's burning up," Kristoff fretted, another wet towel replacing one of the four on her arms. "I need more ice – thank God you're here Elsa. Replenish!"
Elsa didn't need telling twice, filling the bowls with ice before crunching it into blocks. "Something's doing this to her," she said loudly as Anna groaned. "This isn't good for her or the baby." Elsa reached over and touched her fingers to her sister's forehead before snatching them away. She was beyond burning. At that temperature, Anna shouldn't even be alive.
The fact that she was was a small comfort.
"How long has she been like this," Elsa demanded.
"An hour?"
"And she's like this already?" Elsa hissed. "I don't want to fight it off with my magic…we already know nothing about this whole ice and fire thing." The worry was plain across her face, and she barely realized white magic was crackling in her palms until Will's hand slipped into hers.
He looked up at her in fear. "What do I do?"
"I know someone who may be able to help you with that," the healer said from where she was trying to grind up some herbs. "There's been some talk, of a man in the hills with great power."
"Great power only follows one man," Elsa said, eyes widening as she turned to Will. "But I have to. I have to find him."
"Who?" Will's face was a mask of confusion, as strong as the determination he saw in her eyes, almost as though he could tell such a decision held such great weight. Elsa's face was drawn as she weighed up the pros and cons in a quick moment.
"The Dark One."
"Elsa, his reputation is –"
"Shady at best," she cut Kristoff off. "I know. But if anyone has the magic to heal her, it's going to be him. And I really better go now before she gets any worse."
She was already backing out of the room, Will sitting on her heels – but that wasn't where she wanted him. Spinning around, she told him with a warm hug, her face buried in his shoulder, "I need you here. I need you safe. I can take care of myself."
"Yes you can," Will answered his face looking at her in worry, kissing her forehead gently, "Come back to me."
"I will, Will," she grinned, trying light-heartedness when a sense of foreboding filled her very being.
"If I don't come back," she said to the rest of the room before leaving with a wide grin, "just letting you know, my handsome pirate has a pardon."
A hand was stroking his face hesitantly, a familiar voice whispering through the darkness, "Killian, wake up. Please wake up. Please."
He felt soft lips moving against his, trying to coax a response from him, but his brain was slow to work, his body reacting instinctively to the taste and scent of Emma before it fully computed that it was Emma in front of him.
His eyes flicked open when he did – not without effort – because his body was weighed down with the haze of Elsa's curse as it seeped from his body.
"Emma," he gasped, when she pulled away, a hopeful smile lighting up her face.
"You're okay?!" she enquired with wide eyes. "You're not…weird."
"Weird?" His brow furrowed. "I…oh God… Emma." He struggled away from her touch, scared of what she could possibly think of him. God, he hated himself. His hands had tried to choke the very life out of her…
"Something did this to you, Killian," Emma tried to reassure him, even though, as usual, he saw right through her to the twinge of doubt in the corner of her eye. "Something…your hand."
"I'm so sorry, Emma," Killian gushed, "I'll get out of the way – I'll leave."
"No, Killian," she answered, eyes as wide as saucers as her fingers drifted downwards grasping his hand in her own, "Your hand."
His hand.
His very real and very sensitive left hand.
And he stared at it like it was some sort of demon.
"She must have given it to me," he breathed.
"Who?"
"Elsa," he choked out, refusing to look at Emma. "She kissed me, she cursed me and she told me to kill you before the illness did."
"Killian, I'm fine honestly," she pulled his face up by the chin. "I'm fine," she repeated. "You're freezing."
"A minute ago you were burning," he answered with a weak smile, "Guess I cancelled you out."
"Exactly. Obviously the plan backfired on…wait. Did you say Elsa?"
Killian nodded, struggling to get into a sitting position.
"Ice Queen?"
"That'd be the one," Killian answered, rubbing the back of his head in pain from where he'd been thrown against the wall.
"Sorry," Emma winced for him.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, love. It was me who tried to kill you."
"No," she repeated adamantly. "It was this Frozen Curse or whatever. Don't you dare blame yourself. We have work to do. Henry? He's safe?"
"Aye Swan," he answered, with a hesitant smile, "He is."
"But firstly," she said, mirroring his grin. She leant forward and fixed her lips to hers, the searing passion of it nothing to do with the battling magic, simply the fire that always burned between them. Her fingers brushed over his jaw as her tongue slipping through his lips, battling him; tasting him. When he kissed her like that, it was easy to forget they were in the middle of a crisis. For a second Killian almost believed he could take his Swan out of here to his room at Granny's and thoroughly ravish her and love her after the worry and pain of seeing her so ill.
But that was what made him pull away. Because it that kiss was heat. Growing heat. Growing far too hot.
"Emma, you're burning up again," Killian's eyes widened as he scrambled to his feet, pulling Emma up with him. She shook her head negatively, but Killian saw her wobble as she stood up – her feet unsteady as she reached for him to steady her.
"No, you have to stop this. It's Elsa – she's the key. Mary Margaret – Regina – they have to know something…Gold even… the urn was his. He must know."
"I'll find out Emma," Killian promised leading her to the bed once more, the metal pole going with her. "Please don't leave me again. You can fight this."
"It's too hot in here Killian."
He almost didn't see where she was pointing, but her hands was rubbing uncomfortably over her heart through her blue robe.
"I'll fix this, Emma," he swore as she laid back, her eyes already closing before she hit the pillow.
"I'm supposed to be the Saviour," she mumbled, words slurring together.
"Let me save you," he breathed, a soft kiss lingering on her forehead before Killian Jones was running down the halls in search of a miracle.
Elsa was shivering – not in cold – but in fear as she approached the menacing doorway in the heart of the jagged mountains. Her horse whinnied in the distance, not doing much to quell her fears.
Her fist sounded pitiful against the mass of metal that made up the door. Nevertheless, that tiny echoing sound must have been noticed by someone – or something – because it swung open of it's own accord and with great precaution, Elsa stepped into the darkness that lay beyond it.
It was a room lit by one small round window above the door, and so was almost doused in complete nothingness. Except for one thing. Sitting on a table before her, was a shining sort of vase. No, an urn.
"Hello?" Elsa called out to the emptiness, trying not to let her voice shake. "Dark One? It's Queen Elsa of Arendelle, I should like to bargain for help? Magical help, that is."
But no answer came from the darkness. It was eerie to say the least, for not even the smallest sound breached the area around her.
"Dark One," Elsa pleaded desperately, her voice echoing, "Please. Please save her."
With a loud clang, the silver urn dropped from table onto the stone cold floor even though the room was still completely empty. Nothing could have caused that except magic. He had to be here. Somewhere.
Frustrated, Elsa bent down to pick up the urn and put it back on the table.
And the minute she heard a deep voice whisper, "Thank you," she was filled with a most utterly crippling fear because she knew she could do nothing to save her sister as she was dragged down into the silvery darkness…
