"Emma!"
"Emma!"
Killian and Walsh's dual cries fall on deaf ears as Killian cradles Emma's limp form in his arms and awkwardly eases her to the ground. "Emma? Love?" Her normally rosy complexion goes slightly ashen before his eyes, and Killian's heart beats frantically. "Emma?"
"No! No, no, no, no…" Smee cups his head in his hands.
Killian looks up sharply at his first mate while Walsh drops down to the floor beside them. He hastily transfers Emma into the other man's arms. "Get her to the sofa."
Walsh hoists her away with a grunt, and Killian leaps to his feet and rounds on Smee, backing the shorter man against the counter. "What did you do?!" he hisses, mindful to keep his voice down. Steel flashes as the tip of his hook finds Smee's jugular.
"I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry…" Smee stutters. "I didn't… didn't mean…"
"Tell me what you've done!"
"S-sleeping curse," Smee manages, his voice strained. "The Queen ordered me to give it to you… if you wouldn't come back…"
Killian pales. "It was meant for me."
Smee tries to nod.
Killian's mind races, and he glances over his shoulder to the living room where Walsh is heaving Emma onto the sofa cushions. "How is she?"
"I—I can't tell if she's breathing!" Walsh calls back, panicked. He jostles her. "Emma? Emma!"
Killian whirls Smee around, pulling a long black scarf from his belt and proceeding to lash Smee's wrists together behind his back with practiced speed and unnecessary roughness. "Sleeping curse," he mutters, trying to think.
"Like Snow White's, Sir," Smee offers meekly, not bothering to resist restraint.
Killian pauses to stare at his crewman. "Snow White," he repeats under his breath. "True Love's Kiss." He looks in Walsh's direction. "You have to kiss her!" he calls.
Walsh lifts his head, a frown carved on his face. "What?"
Killian hauls Smee over to the living room and shoves him into a side chair. "Stay put," he barks. He hastens to Walsh's side. "Kiss her."
The man continues to squint, uncomprehending. "Oh!" His eyes grow wide. "You mean, like, mouth-to-mouth?" Walsh shoots Emma a nervous look. "O-okay. I… I think I remember how." He tips her head back, and Killian watches, confused, as he pinches Emma's nose and seals his lips clumsily over hers, breathing into her mouth. He tries again and again for several long moments. Nothing happens.
"It's not working!" Walsh says helplessly. "Am I doing it wrong?"
Killian's stomach sinks. The strangeness of the kiss aside, it should have worked. Unless… He blinks as the word crosses his mind. What if her instincts about her relationship with Walsh were correct? He clenches his jaw. But if not Walsh, then who—
"You try."
He looks up and gapes at Walsh. "Me?"
Walsh climbs to his feet and digs into his pocket for his phone. "I'm calling 9-1-1," he declares, turning away. "Where'd she leave her purse?" He dials and disappears into the kitchen.
Killian hardly notices, his gaze still riveted on Emma. Surely he's not… He doesn't doubt how he feels about her, but there's no reason she should… They don't belong together. He doesn't deserve –
"Captain."
He spins at the sound of Smee's uncharacteristically insistent voice, and it's only despair that tempers the rage he feels toward the man responsible for Emma's predicament.
Smee swallows, his expression mournful. "I don't know much about true love, but I've seen the way you look at each other, Sir. You should kiss her."
Killian blinks, his features forming a rare expression of uncertainty before he turns back toward Emma. His eyes trace the lines of her lifeless face, and they begin to sting from the anger and devastation that well up within him at the idea that she might be lost forever. All because of him, no less. Not again. Please, Gods, not again. He leans forward, dipping his face closer and delicately sliding his fingers beneath her head. "Please, my love," he trembles almost inaudibly. "Don't leave me." A solitary tear falls as he closes his eyes and presses his lips softly to hers.
He barely notices the magical wind that instantly ripples out from between them like a shock wave, but when he pulls back, Emma gasps, sucking in a breath so deep her back arches off the sofa as her eyes flutter open. The color returns to her cheeks while she searches the ceiling, dazed, and he's never known a more welcome sight than when her attention falls on him and her face lights with recognition.
"Killian?" She frowns as she spies the redness in his eyes and the track of his tear, and she reaches up gingerly, as though to touch the side of his face in silent question.
"What on Earth was that?"
Her hand freezes, and they both glance up to see Walsh rush around the corner from the kitchen, phone still at his ear. He startles when he sees her. "Oh my God! Emma! You're okay!" His brow wrinkles. "Are you okay? This is emergency dispatch on the line. Do you need to go to the hospital?"
"What?" Emma struggles to sit up, taking Killian's proffered arm so he can pull her upright. "No! No, I'm fine."
"I think she's okay now," Walsh repeats into the phone. "Yeah, uh, we're good. You don't have to send anyone. I'm, uh, sorry to bother you." He hangs up and starts forward. "Honey, what –"
The room suddenly explodes into an eerie green storm as a magic portal tears open the air between them. Walsh flies backward, crashing into the dining table and tumbling like a ragdoll to the floor while a dramatic whirlwind sets objects around Emma's house flying like a tornado. Emma screams, and Killian throws himself over her, covering her with his body and curling his hook arm across his head.
For a moment the air roars in their ears, and then the disturbance vanishes as quickly as it arose, loose papers from the dining table wafting to the ground around them in the aftermath.
"Hook." A voice from his nightmares spits out his name. "I hope you like pain, because you're in for a world of it."
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Emma clutches at Killian's waistcoat and feels him tense at the unfamiliar voice that appears only a few feet away. The voice's owner is female and pissed, and there's only one person involved in their current situation who meets that description. Killian's soft only curse serves as confirmation. He raises himself off of her, and Emma twists her torso to follow his sightline to an austere, dark-haired woman in a heavy black gown fit for a Broadway headliner or a wealthy drag queen who now stands between them and the dining room. Emma isn't sure whether to focus on the woman's handsome face or on the deadly-looking sword in her hand, but both make her murderous intention abundantly clear. Her jaw goes slack, and she scrambles to sit up. "Killian? Is that…?"
He swallows, planting his feet and rising to his full height as he takes a step toward their intruder. "Stay behind me, Emma."
"Look at you, managing a True Love's Kiss," the Queen says, her voice dripping with contempt. "I must admit, I didn't think you were capable of that sort of thing, Pirate."
Emma glances up at Killian's profile with confused eyes. True Love's Kiss?
His gaze remains fixed on the Queen, his lips twitching in a grin that is both cavalier and cold. "Feel free to keep underestimating me."
She throws a smirk over his shoulder at Emma. "Does romance dictate that I kill the two of you together now?"
Killian's smile vanishes, his eyes flashing. "You'll not lay a hand on her," he growls with shocking vehemence.
"Oh, and you without your sword." The Queen ignores him and tsks, a wicked grin curving her mouth. "This will be fun."
Killian turns his head, his face a grim mask. "Emma. Run."
Emma rises slowly behind him, one hand settling on his shoulder, her eyes darting about the room as she considers their options. Her gaze alights briefly on Walsh, who lies sprawled in the far corner of the dining room. She exhales with relief at the sight of his chest rising and falling.
"Emma…" Killian warns again, turning his head to give her another anxious glance.
"You're—you're here for the opal?" she asks, trying to buy time.
"I'm here for what's mine," the Evil Queen replies acerbically, glaring at Killian, "and to punish the dirty thief who dared to take it from me."
"H-how did you find him?"
The Queen studies her, the corner of her mouth tweaking smugly. "Please. Child's play. There are few places a magic mirror can't see. Imagine my disappointment when I looked into mine and discovered this idiot," she fixes Smee with a withering look, "had wasted my sleeping curse on you instead of using it on the Captain."
Killian's first mate sits in the armchair next to the TV with his arms awkwardly behind his back, shrinking away from the foreboding woman and looking as though he wishes he were invisible.
"Really?" Emma pulls her eyes away from Smee and arcs an eyebrow. "You can actually do that whole, 'Mirror, Mirror on the wall' thing?"
The Queen leers. "If you had any idea what else I can do, you'd take the pirate's advice and run."
Killian shifts to shield Emma a little more, and she can see the contracted cords in his neck. She licks her lips, praying she isn't making a mistake. "Not sure you want me to run, seeing as I'm the only one who can get your precious stone out of my safe," she says through her teeth.
Killian tenses even more, and the Queen's eyes narrow. "He gave it to you?" She curls her lip at Killian and laughs. "You really are a fool."
"Better tell me what you're going to give me for getting it out of there for you," Emma continues. She gestures at the Queen's sword. "That isn't going to cut through two inches of solid steel." Dropping her hand from Killian's shoulder, she steps out from behind him. Their fingers brush, and he reaches for her, his touch restless and agitated. Emma does her best to maintain her poker face, even as she gives him a squeeze. Trust me.
The tip of the Queen's sword swings to point at her face. "How about I don't cut off your head?" she snaps.
Emma swallows, her heart in her throat. "It's a package deal, Lady. I give you the Sea Star back, everyone in this room walks free." She glowers, fighting to keep her voice even. "Seems like a good deal for the chance to pull off this curse you've been working on for so long."
The two women stare each other down for a long moment.
The Queen seethes. "Fine," she bites out at last, looking as though the words taste foul. "Keep your miserable little lives."
Emma nods and gives Killian's hand another squeeze before pulling away. All eyes are on her as she walks over to the hidden safe and pulls back the picture briskly. She moves behind the frame, disappearing from everyone's view but Killian's, and stops just long enough for a deep, steadying breath before she dials in the numbers in rapid-fire sequence, hands flying to yank the safe open while her pulse thrums in her ears. The cold touch of the metal to her skin doesn't even register when she snatches out her gun, sliding off the holster and releasing the safety in one smooth motion. Emma swings the picture back into place and out of her way as she levels her weapon at the Queen. "We intend to."
The other woman pales, her expression turning livid as she realizes the ruse and eyes the gun.
"Put. The Sword. Down."
There's a small gasp of delight, and the Queen looks angrily in Smee's direction. Her free hand twitches at her side, and he suddenly cries out, his face screwing up with distress. Extra lines appear on Emma's forehead when he doubles over and she can see that his arms are inexplicably bound behind him. What…?
"You…" the Queen snarls at him, "worthless…" Her hand rises, pulling a glowing red object from a hidden pocket in her skirts. She squeezes, and Emma stares, appalled, when Smee screams again.
She takes aim at the Queen's hand.
"No, Emma!" Killian barks. "Don't shoot!"
"What—what is that?" she asks breathlessly.
"His heart." Killian's tone is stony, a measure of understanding rising to his eyes. "She took his heart."
The Queen sneers. "He needed a little persuasion to come after you. For all the good it did. But maybe he can still be useful." Her eyes return to Smee, glimmering threateningly. "Where's the magic bean?"
Smee pants. "My… my pocket."
She marches over. "Get up."
He stumbles to his feet as though compelled, despite his obvious discomfort and exhaustion.
The Evil Queen wrinkles her nose in disgust as she pockets his heart and uses her now free hand to loose his bonds. "Give it to me."
Smee reaches beneath his coat and produces what looks like a big pearlescent kidney bean. He holds it up mechanically, looking defeated.
She swipes it out of his palm and tucks it into the revealing sweetheart neckline of her dress. "And the Sea Star?" she demands, pulling his heart back out. "Do you know where it is?"
His face contorts. "The Captain has it," he grits out. His eyes are filled with guilt as he raises them to Killian. "I'm sorry, Sir."
The Queen turns back to Killian and Emma, holding the heart up. "Since you seem so eager to trade," she says bitingly, "you can have his life in exchange for the stone."
"No!" Smee protests. "You can't—" His plea is cut short by a strangled grunt when she squeezes his heart so hard her hand shakes, and he loses his breath, collapsing back into the chair with his hand clutched to his chest.
"No, stop!" Emma aims between the Queen's eyes, feeling sick.
The Queen pauses at her desperate cry, a victorious grin hinting on her lips.
Emma's eyes flit back and forth between the Queen's hands, the sword in one and Smee's heart in the other. Then her gaze falls on her gun. "Killian," she says quietly. "Throw her the stone." She flashes him a look of entreaty.
Killian's face is stern. "Emma… I can't…"
"Please," Emma says solemnly, hoping he can read her. "Just do it." Her heart leaps at the subtle twitch in his brow, and though he studies her for a few long seconds, he finally reaches beneath his coat and pulls out the Sea Star.
"Here." He hurls it with minimal warning.
The opal somersaults through the air, and the Evil Queen hastily drops Smee's heart it in order to catch it. The heart lands on the rug and rolls a bit to the side. Emma glances at it before her eyes lock back on to the jewel. She grits her teeth. Come on, come on…
The Queen presses the stone against her abdomen in order to adjust her hold on it, sighing with satisfaction. "Finally." She holds it up to the light, bracing it top and bottom between her fingers.
Emma blinks at the clean shot. Now. She lines up her sights and pulls the trigger.
The crack of the gunshot is deafening. The .45 caliber bullet strikes the Sea Star dead-on, and the gem shatters in a spectacular shower of multicolored pieces that rain to the floor. The Queen shrieks and ducks down. She inadvertently knocks Smee's heart closer to them, and Killian barrels forward to scoop it up while Emma keeps her gun at the ready and hazards a step closer.
The Queen spies the opal shards littering the rug and lets out a guttural screech. "No!" she screams. "What you have done?!" She looks up at Emma, her expression turning savage.
"Broken an old man's heart," Emma replies flatly, thinking regretfully of Hal Johansen. "Now, unless you want me to put a bullet in you too, I suggest you do what I say." She looks at Smee, concerned. "Are you okay?"
Smee nods gratefully, rubbing his chest. "I think so."
"Good." She offers him a tiny smile. "Get her sword and go check on Walsh. And then I need you to open that top drawer over there and bring me my handcuffs. Uh—" she corrects at the first hint of confusion on Smee's brow, "metal rings. Like shackles."
"Yes, Ma'am." Killian's crewman pushes himself out of the chair to set about his tasks. The Evil Queen stares daggers as Smee nervously relieves her of the blade. He scurries clear of her and back toward the dining room, depositing the sword on the dining table with a clatter before kneeling down beside Walsh.
Emma watches the Queen down the barrel of her gun and steps closer still, her lips pressed firmly together. "I'm going to need you to give back that magic bean," she says, holding out her left hand expectantly.
The Queen fishes the bean out of her dress with two fingers. "You want it?" she grits. Her voice cracks with loathing. "Take it." She flings it at the carpet at Emma's feet.
"Emma, get back!" Killian shouts.
Emma's eyes grow huge as the bean begins to glow and spin on its side, magical waves emanating from it as it sinks into the rug and a yawning circular chasm filled with swirling green light begins to swallow up her floor.
The Queen jumps to her feet, and both women leap back from the rapidly expanding hole, the house shaking and moaning and violent winds stirring up around them yet again. A huge gravitational pull tugs them toward its ominous center, and a low, terrifying rumble as loud as a train fills their ears, highlighted by the sounds of splintering wood and crashing objects.
Emma's disheveled chignon finishes pulling loose, her jeweled headband flying away, and her hair whips around her head, obscuring her vision intermittently. The ground seems to disintegrate beneath her bare feet, and she yelps, dropping her gun and flailing backward. She hits the floor sideways and claws at the carpet as the portal sucks her in, her skirts shredding on broken floorboards as her legs slide over the edge of the roiling funnel.
"Emma!" Killian's hand darts out and catches her by the arm like an iron clamp. She looks up to see him lying on his belly perpendicular to her, his expression strained as he anchors them to the floor next to the armchair with his hook. He grunts. "Hold on!"
Face twisting with exertion, he slowly pulls her toward him, and she gasps when she regains enough purchase to be able to do some version of an army crawl back toward safe ground. Despite the hindrance of her gown, between the two of them, they manage to maneuver her close to his side.
"Here!" He tugs her hands up toward one leg of the armchair, and she grabs hold, feeling a measure of relief when he repositions his arm securely around her waist.
"If I can't get my revenge, neither will you!" They look up to see the Evil Queen holding on to the end of the dining table, a tear-stained scowl on her face. "The Dark One will live forever, and you'll spend the rest of your days trapped in this non-magical wasteland, Pirate!" she yells. "Don't try to follow me back, or I'll—"
Something hits her over the back of the head, and her threat goes unfinished. She crumples, unconscious, and plummets head-first into the abyss. Smee comes into view as she falls, gripping the side of the dining table with one hand and wielding her sword in the other, having downed her with the pommel.
Killian lets out a laugh. "Good man, Smee!" he shouts.
"We should go, Captain!" Smee hollers back. "It won't stay open much longer!"
Killian sobers, and he looks to Emma, flashes of lightning from the portal throwing shadows across his handsome face. She can see a storm in his eyes to rival the one around them as he searches her. "I…" He swallows. "I don't want to go."
Emma blinks at him through the wind, her heart rising in her throat, and God, she wants to cry because she wants more time – she needs more time – but there isn't any. "I don't want you to leave," she shudders, just loud enough for him to hear.
She can see it – the moment he makes up his mind. His face relaxes, and his eyes quiet as though he's found some long-sought clarity. He pulls her tighter to him and cranes his head. "I'm staying!" he yells across the void at Smee. "Go without me!"
To his crewman's credit, Smee doesn't seem surprised. "First mate stays with the Captain!" he bellows cheerfully.
And then it all stops. The lights in the portal rapidly fade to black, the winds die down almost instantaneously, and every airborne item is again slave to gravity as it falls back to the Earth. The world feels deathly still by comparison, and the sound of her own heavy breathing reaches her ears once more. She glances at Killian, torn between joy and disbelief. He stayed. He stayed for her. And by the look he gives her, it's as monumental a decision for him as she thinks it is.
Killian reaches forward and tentatively brushes her hair off her forehead, trailing his fingertips down the side of her face. "Alright, love?"
There are so many questions, so many unknowns, so many headaches she's going to have to deal with in the aftermath of tonight's events, but in this moment, the answer is on the tip of her tongue. "Yeah," she says with a weak smile. "Yeah, I think so."
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The rest of the night is busy as Killian returns Smee's heart and the two of them help Emma address the damage caused by the Evil Queen. Walsh begins to stir minutes after the portal closes. It's a little trick bundling him out the back and around the house to avoid the jagged five-foot hole left in Emma's floor and another trick working him into the Bug, but between the three of them, they manage it before he's conscious enough to know what's happening.
He remembers blessedly little of the incident, only vaguely recalling that Emma had passed out and recovered "spontaneously," and when they tell him he fell and hit his head on the dining table, he laughs deliriously and slaps Smee, who's wedged in the back seat with him, on the shoulder. "I always knew furniture would be the death of me one day, Bill. Can I call you Bill?"
Pulling up to a red light and now back in a shirt, trousers, and her leather jacket, Emma glances over her shoulder before sharing a look with Killian that is both amused and slightly worried.
The trip to the hospital is strange and fascinating. Moving Walsh becomes much less cumbersome once they load him into a wheeled chair, and thankfully, the medical staff give their invalid priority over the drunken Halloween revelers and the over-anxious worrywarts who think 1 A.M. is the appropriate time to seek attention for a runny nose.
Walsh is shuttled into a small room with a glass wall, loaded onto a rolling bed, and shortly thereafter stolen away for a test that Emma explains will allow the doctor to see images of his brain. Killian and Smee both balk at this, but she hastily assures them that it's fine. Not long after Walsh is returned to them – intact, as promised – the doctor decides to keep him in the hospital for observation and more images the following day.
Killian and Smee hover awkwardly outside the open door while Emma helps Walsh change into hospital clothes behind the thin privacy of a cheerfully-patterned curtain.
"'S-nice of Killian and Bill to be here with us," they hear Walsh slur. "'S-too bad Killian thinks he's a pirate, 'cuz otherwise he seems like a good guy."
"Um…" Emma's voice is sheepish. "Yeah. Yeah, he's a good guy."
There's a pause and the continued rustle of fabric.
"I know this isn't the best time," Walsh starts again, "But, d'you ever wonder whether… whether we should be with other people?"
Killian turns his head toward the curtain as there's another pregnant pause.
"Uh, w-why do you ask?" Emma sounds taken off-guard.
"I dunno," Walsh drawls. "'S-just… Tonight, when we traded partners… I dunno. I just… It was nice." He sounds guilty.
Killian holds his breath as he listens for the man behind the curtain to say more.
"Linda's really great," Emma volunteers gently.
"Yeah. She's kinda 'mazing."
"Yeah." The word is a bittersweet sigh on Emma's lips. "Maybe… Maybe we aren't exactly right for each other," she says after a beat. "Maybe we're not… you know… True Love. Or whatever."
Walsh laughs. "'S-like, the least Emma Swan thing you've ever said."
She chuckles. "People change, I guess."
"Yeah," he agrees, his smile still audible. "Guess we do." There's a moment of silence. "Are we breaking up?"
She chuffs quietly. "I guess we are."
"Sorry."
"Don't—don't be sorry," she says kindly. "Just go out and find the person who's right for you."
He laughs again. "'Kay. You too. Promise?"
Killian smiles to himself as Emma hums.
"I promise."
They take their leave after Walsh is settled upstairs in a hospital room, with Emma assuring him that she'll call to check on him later. He gives them a slightly addled grin and a thumbs-up as they walk out the door.
Upon their return to the house, Killian changes out of Mr. Castro's finery, and they set to work carting some thick boards from a shed in the backyard into the house, laying them over the hole in the floor to make it passable. It takes another two hours for them to set the place back into some semblance of order, putting undamaged objects back in their place, throwing away items that are broken beyond repair, and sweeping up the dust and debris.
The sky is lightening from inky black to shades of indigo and deep blue when they head down to the apartment to finish cleaning. Emma stretches a little while later and announces a desperate need for coffee.
"Go, Swan," Killian tells her with a knowing smile, wiping down the kitchenette surfaces with a rag. "Smee and I can finish here."
She flashes him a weary little smile as she trudges up the stairs.
They continue to work in silence for several minutes before Smee calls out, "Captain? What's this?"
Killian looks up in the direction of the bathroom and sighs, abandoning the rag and wiping his hand on his shirt. "What's what?" He comes around the privacy screen to see Smee standing in the doorway of the bathroom, broom in hand.
Smee points at something next to the sink. "There on the counter, Sir. Is that…?"
Killian moves past him and retrieves the object in question. "The magic compass," he says. "The thing that was supposed to help me find the Dark One's dagger." He opens it and shows his crewman the fractured glass. "It was damaged when I came out of the portal. Bloody useless now."
Smee makes a regretful noise. "Shame."
Killian tucks it in his pocket. "Not that it would do us any good here anyway."
Smee studies him. "What will you do now that you can't kill the Dark One?" he asks pensively.
A heavy sigh expels from Killian's chest. "I don't know. Perhaps this world will provide us with a new, happier adventure," he says. He huffs wryly and smiles. "Though we might find ourselves doing something a bit more honest."
Smee stifles a yawn. "I guess if it keeps our purses and our bellies full…" he replies amiably, his cheeks widening into broad grin. He bends down to sweep the last of the mess into a dust pan and empties it in a bin. "If it's alright with you, Sir, I could use a few winks on that sofa."
Killian gives him a nod, looking thoughtful, and watches his first mate wander away. The creak of the floorboards above his head draws his attention, and his mouth curves upward. A new adventure…
He pads upstairs to find the kitchen filled with the aroma of fresh coffee and a note in Emma's scrawl.
Out in front. Help yourself.
His eyes narrow curiously, but he pours himself a cup, dashes in some sugar, and takes his coffee with him as he trots back down the stairs to retrieve his coat. Smee is already passed out on the sofa, his knit cap pulled down over his eyes and his hands folded on his chest, and Killian takes care to close the door stealthily behind him when he slips through the apartment's front door in search of Emma.
He finds her seated above him on the front steps, huddled in her jacket and scarf, her hair still a tumble of leftover curls down her back as she nurses her coffee and her breath mists over the lip of her mug. It's just after seven on a Sunday, and in the pale light of the blue-green dawn, the street is relatively silent, save for the call of birds and the distant dissonance of traffic. She gives him a soft smile, and he accepts her invitation, climbing the stairs and settling himself next to her.
"Where's Smee?" she asks quietly, as though not wanting to disturb the peace.
He smirks and sips. "Snoring on the sofa."
Emma hums, one of her dimples peeking. "Well, last night was kind of eventful," she says dryly.
He chuckles. "Indeed."
Emma looks down, rubbing her thumbs back and forth over the sides of her cup. "So… if you're here," she starts hesitantly, "what happens to your hunt for the Dark One?"
Killian looks past her, his eyes distant as they survey the street, and he offers a rueful sigh. "Perhaps it was never meant to be." His mug clinks as he sets it down on the brick step, reaching to dig the compass out of his pocket. "See this?"
Her brow furrows, and she, too, puts her coffee aside. "What is it?" She plucks it out of his outstretched hand and turns it over, examining it curiously.
"The magic compass I got from the Evil Queen. It was supposed to help me find the Dark One's dagger by pointing me to the thing I needed most." He scratches behind his ear. "But it was broken when I came through the portal. Perhaps it's a sign."
Emma draws her fingers over the worn, misshapen brass and lifts the lid. She makes a thoughtful sound as she traces the crack in the glass with her fingernail and then frowns, moving the compass from side to side. "Are you sure it's broken?" She rotates it 180 degrees in her palm. "It seems to be pretty set on pointing in one direction."
"What?" Killian pulls her hand closer to peer down at it, forehead wrinkling when he notes the needle pointing at him. "Strange." He takes the compass back and freezes when the needle suddenly wobbles around to point at Emma. He turns his hand this way and that, and his breath catches in his throat when the needle persists in its chosen direction no matter which way he orients the dial.
But…
Bloody hell.
"What is it?" Emma frowns, also noting the compass' strange behavior.
"The thing I need most," he murmurs soberly. He looks up at her in awe. "I think… I think when I fell into the portal without a destination in mind, this brought me here." He taps the glass hard, and the arrow falters briefly before pointing back at Emma. "To you."
Emma blinks up at him with huge, uncertain eyes. Her gaze falls to the compass, and she takes it back, watching the arrow swing toward him yet again.
"I thought it was completely ruined," Killian adds, his voice growing thick. "But perhaps it's only been reduced to working at close range."
She stares at the little needle, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "So when the Queen said you managed a True Love's Kiss…" she raises her anxious eyes back to his face, "she meant… us?"
Killian takes in the pink in her cheeks and the nervous wrinkle between her eyes, and he does his best to soften the enormous grin that pulls at his mouth. "Aye, she meant us," he rumbles. "Only True Love's Kiss can break a sleeping curse like the one you were under."
She closes the compass with a tiny click and begins to turn it over and over in her hands absently, the upward tilt of her eyebrows full of question. "So… we're…?"
He scratches the back of his head with his brace, his neck warming. "I suppose we are." He reaches out and squeezes her hand, causing her to still. "Look, I know this is all a lot to take in. But I also know how I feel about you, Emma Swan, and if you need time to think about it, I'll give you as long as it takes."
Emma scans his face, her expression unreadable, and he watches her intently, holding his breath until her fingers slowly curl around his.
"It's not fair," she mutters at last, dropping her gaze to the compass as she slips it into her jacket pocket with her free hand.
His brow tics with concern.
She looks back up at him, eyes sparkling. "I don't get to remember our first kiss."
A slow smile spreads across his face, and Killian inches closer, pulling their entwined hands toward him until they rest against his heart. "Would a second first kiss help make it up to you?" he mutters as his nose delicately brushes hers, the fog from their combined breath curling upward toward the sunrise.
"Hmph." She tilts her head, her eyes fluttering closed just before she seals her mouth over his. "Guess there's only one way to find out."
They come together there on the front stoop in the chill of the burgeoning dawn, lips moving tenderly and then hungrily in a prolonged moment of elated sighs and warm, affectionate caresses. And as he wordlessly pledges his heart and soul to Emma Swan, Killian feels, for the first time in ages, the hope and excitement and gratitude that come with being afforded a brand new beginning.
