A/N: Sorry for the delay - RL became a little too much last week. But we've reached the longest chapter of the fic at nearly 12,000 words (I debated splitting it in half, but there wasn't a good place to do it). Hopefully it's worth the wait!
Thank you, as always, to love-with-you-i-have-everything for the beta!
Chapter Nine
Emma felt a tug in her gut, her eyes closing as a wave of mild nausea washed over her. When she opened them again, the black smoke around them was slowly dissipating, allowing her to get her bearings.
The others looked every bit as disoriented as she felt, her dad's face a little paler than usual. She definitely preferred normal teleporting to whatever it was that Hades had done, her stomach roiling unpleasantly.
She felt a weight at her back and she glanced over her shoulder, somewhat surprised to find her cutlass strapped in place once more. At least Hades had had the decency to give her back her weapon.
"Everyone all right?" Mary Margaret asked, resting a hand on Henry's arm. Henry covered his mouth with his hand, looking in serious danger of losing his last meal, but after a long moment, he nodded, the others offering their own assurances. Only Killian seemed unaffected by their mode of transportation, watching them all with visible concern. Emma bit her lip, turning her attention to the space around them.
The weird magical sky Hades had summoned still shone overhead, the sight as familiar as it was strange. The light from the sun in Storybrooke was just fading below the horizon, but the area around them remained lit with the same creepy green glow as the rest of the Underworld.
They were at the edge of a vast field of indeterminable size, the jagged trail that cut through the centre beaten and worn. At the far end of the field stood the dark silhouette of a mountain, a small, glistening spot at its very top marking the peak Hades had told them about.
"Bloody hell," breathed Killian, his eyes darkening as he followed her gaze. She could practically see him reconsidering the deal with Hades, worry and guilt flashing across his face.
"I'm sure it's not as far as it looks," she said quietly, even as she doubted it herself. Hades wouldn't have set the task if there was no chance they could fulfill it, right?
Then again, what did she really know about Hades? The books she'd read hadn't dedicated a lot of time to describing his personality.
"I'm guessing that's where we're headed?" David asked, sounding equal parts determined and resigned. The others looked equally as enthused, but she was grateful that none of them appeared to be second-guessing the decision to stay.
"It's a good thing I didn't wear my high heels," Belle joked weakly.
"We could magic ourselves over there," Regina suggested without much conviction.
Henry shook his head, echoing Emma's immediate thoughts. "It's a quest — using magic to get us there would be cheating."
"Henry's right," said Emma. "As tempting as it is, the last thing I want is Hades revoking the deal on a technicality and trapping us all here."
The reminder of what was at stake sent a shockwave through the group, the others straightening despite their exhaustion. She felt a ripple of guilt. This should have been her mission to complete, not theirs.
"We should get moving," she said, shoving her feelings aside.
The fields around them were pretty barren, the grass thin and browning in a lot of spots. Small stars slowly began to appear, peppering the open sky above them as they walked.
Emma took the lead, Killian falling into step beside her. The others trailed behind a few paces in a blatant attempt to give them some space. It felt like a wasted effort, though, Emma struggling for something to say. An awkward silence hovered over them.
She considered asking him about the scene they'd just witnessed, the bizarre fairytale town that had vanished as soon as she'd cut him free. Even now, she wasn't sure what to make of it, apart from Hades' obvious involvement. But one look at Killian's face made her think better of it.
She furtively eyed the side of his neck. There were no bruises, no obvious signs of the trauma that should come with being hanged from honest-to-god gallows. She couldn't decide whether the lack of injury made it better or worse, her heart clenching again at the memory of him dangling from the noose as his face contorted in agony.
She had hoped – desperately – that it was all just an illusion of some kind, assuring herself that there was no way Killian could be hurt by anything that happened down here, but his choked-off gasps had sounded real enough to her. She'd felt paralysed as she watched her mom's lookalike give the signal for the trap door to open, helpless to do anything but watch as he fell and jerked to a painful halt, too far away for her to reach.
The real Mary Margaret hadn't hesitated, a scary amount of determination in her eyes as she'd drawn and released one of her arrows. The arrowhead had only grazed the rope, though, Emma's heart pounding as she raced across the square to get to him. The agonizing minutes it'd taken for them to fight their way close enough for her to slice through the rest of the rope had been some of the longest of her life. She was certain that the horrifying memories of Killian gasping and retching for air would haunt her for the rest of her days.
The back of her hand brushed his as they walked, as it had done a hundred times in the past, and she stiffened, his skin unnaturally cool and smooth against hers. Killian flinched minutely, pulling his hand closer to his side. Neither of them spoke, the distance between them – both figurative and literal – weighing all the heavier on Emma's heart.
Behind them, Henry and Belle had struck up an animated conversation comparing Hades and Persephone to their mythical interpretations. Emma's eyes drifted to the dirt and grass that lined either side of the path, a welcome change from all of the black rock and gravel they'd encountered before now. The silence only seemed to grow more oppressive, even as she racked her brain for a way to break it that wouldn't somehow make things worse.
What could she say to him, really? She'd dreamed of and dreaded this moment ever since the curse had lifted, but the reality of it was even harder than she'd expected. She'd thought she'd known the pain of being parted from Killian, had grown used to living each day with that gaping hole inside of her. But now that she was actually beside him, she felt further apart from him than ever. She thought she'd have a million things to say when she saw him again, but every one of them felt inadequate now.
And it wasn't as though he was rushing to talk to her, either.
Not that I can blame him, Emma thought bitterly. How could they ever rebuild things, after all they'd been through — all they were still going through? Where could they even begin?
She turned her attention to the mountain, noting with irritation that it seemed no closer than before. The horizon between here and there was distorted somehow, making it impossible to gage the true distance or what lay ahead of them. Emma cursed Hades internally. The confrontation with the god of the Underworld had gone better than the one with Calypso, but she couldn't quite bring herself to believe that Hades' deal was as straightforward as he'd made it sound.
She glanced up at the sky, the constellations from their world giving her some small measure of comfort. She wished again that her phone was working — it'd be nice to know how long they had until sunrise.
"We've about ten-and-a-half hours."
She blinked at Killian, his head tilted back as he stared at the sky overhead. She guessed she shouldn't have been surprised that he still found her so easy to read.
He blushed slightly when she didn't respond, a bashful smile pulling at his lips.
"I may have been in the Underworld for a while, but I can still read the stars as well as any sailor."
The smile faded as he met her eyes, his expression shuttering once more. A fresh wave of grief washed over Emma as he dropped his gaze. Was it that hard for him to look at her after what she'd done?
She thought back to their reunion in the make-believe town. He hadn't looked all that happy to see her then, either, for all that he seemed dead-set on getting them to leave. He'd made no attempts to touch her, his blue eyes never staying on her longer than they had to.
"How long was it, exactly?" said Killian, interrupting her thoughts.
She frowned.
Killian cleared his throat uncomfortably, still avoiding her gaze. "How long have I been down here? Marking the passage of time doesn't seem to be much of a priority in the Underworld."
Emma turned her attention to ground in front of them, kicking a small pebble out of her way.
"It took us a little under three weeks to come up with a plan and put it into action," she said, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. The lump grew as his only response was a slow nod, a faraway look in his eyes. She watched him covertly for some hint of what he was thinking, but his expression remained indecipherable.
Of course, her mind was happy to fill in the blanks for her, recalling every delay, every moment of hesitation and indecision that had lengthened their journey. Grimly, she wondered what all he had endured during that time, and how much of it they could have prevented. Her breath caught as she remembered the look on his face as he'd stood on the gallows. He'd been so resigned to his fate, no hint of a fight remaining in him.
It was the face of a man who had nothing left, not a hope in the world.
"We were at sea for a few days after that," she continued vaguely, not wanting to re-hash the details of her deal with Davy Jones. Stealing the heart back had seemed like the right plan at the time, but her recklessness had almost gotten all of them killed. It was bad enough knowing Killian disapproved of her actions as the Dark One. She didn't think she could handle his disappointment at the things she'd done without the dark curse as an excuse.
"And I'm not sure how long we've been in the Underworld, to be honest. So, maybe a little less than four weeks altogether?"
He nodded again, looking pensive. Guilt made her chest constrict painfully. Whatever he'd faced down here, it was clear it'd taken them too long.
She cast around for more to say, but her mind was frustratingly blank. The awkward silence returned, each of them unconsciously drifting to the furthest edges of the path as they walked.
The trail began to slope downward, revealing another long stretch of land that until now had been disguised by the distortion of the horizon. Thick dark trees began to line the path, their branches long and spindly. Various types of fruit hung from the majority of them, peeking out from beneath large, drooping leaves.
Mary Margaret sighed, looking up at the mountain again. "Is it just me, or are we not getting any closer?"
Emma followed her gaze. She was right. While the scenery around them had shifted, their destination looked as far away as ever. She wondered if they were actually making as little progress as it seemed, or whether Hades just wanted them to believe that.
"We'll get there," she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.
Regina eyed their changing scenery with distrust.
"We should be cautious," she said. "Somehow, I'm guessing there's more to the 'Perilous Fields' than just a lot of walking."
"She's right," said David, hiking up the straps of his backpack. "Hades wouldn't have made the deal if there weren't any challenges here to face."
They fell quiet again, everyone a bit more tense than before. The stars twinkled mockingly overhead, counting down however much time they had left. She licked her dry lips.
Killian made no further attempts at conversation, apparently deep in thought. His expression was still unreadable, the uncertainty of it only adding to Emma's worry. He'd accused her of being an open book in the past, but he'd always been something of one himself — at least, to her. Even before they'd gotten together, back when she couldn't quite bring herself to open up to him, she'd usually had some idea of what he was thinking.
Now, he seemed closed-off in a way she wasn't used to, his movements more guarded. Killian was usually the one tearing down her walls, reaching past the defenses she put up time and time again to reassure her — she wasn't used to being on the other side of the equation.
Well, that's the problem, isn't it? You didn't trust him, so why should you expect him to trust you?
She swallowed. Killian didn't seem angry at her exactly — she knew what an angry Killian looked like — but he was cutting himself off from her, keeping his thoughts to himself.
He's been through a lot, she reminded herself. You can't expect everything to just go back to normal. But a part of her wondered if that was all it was.
The Underworld was just the latest problem of her making that Killian had had to deal with. She'd spent a considerable portion of their relationship pushing him away, keeping him at a distance — the beanstalk, Neverland, the whole mess with Zelena, their trip to the past, and then Camelot. He'd always stuck by her regardless of how many barriers she threw up between them, even though it had come back to bite him more than once.
It'd taken her so long to let him in, to start believing that he would always be there for her. What if he'd finally decided it wasn't worth the effort?
A loud growl broke the silence, Henry covering his stomach in embarrassment.
"Sorry," he said as the others looked back. "I ran out of fruit cups and snack cakes a while ago."
David slid his backpack off, rooting around inside. "It looks like I'm all out of granola bars and bananas. My water's running pretty low, too."
Henry rubbed his stomach again, shaking his head. "It's okay. I guess we only have to make it until morning."
Regina eyed the grove of apple trees they were passing, waving her fingers regally. One of the apples vanished from its branch in a cloud of purple smoke, reappearing in her hand.
She rolled her eyes at Emma's exasperated look. "What? It's one apple. It's not like I magicked us an Uber."
She held the food out to Henry smugly.
"Wait!" Belle exclaimed before he could take it. "I'm not sure you should eat that. Some of the legends say that eating or drinking anything in the Underworld will trap a person there forever. That's supposedly how Persephone came to be here in the first place."
Mary Margaret winced. "Are you sure?"
Emma brushed her hair out of her face, sighing as her mood dropped further. "We probably shouldn't risk it, just to be safe."
The others looked resigned, but nodded their agreement.
"Well, I guess that means the sooner we get to the peak, the sooner we can have a big pancake breakfast at Granny's," said David with false cheer, nudging Henry in the ribs. Henry smiled half-heartedly, letting the apple fall onto the grass.
Emma's eyes slid to Killian, who had been standing quietly beside her, rubbing absently at his neck. "Sorry — you must be pretty hungry, too," she said softly. Who knew how long he'd been trapped in that strange town.
He dropped his hand, shaking his head as they began walking again. "I haven't felt hunger or thirst since I arrived here. I suppose food isn't much use to a dead man."
She looked away, hiding her discomfort. Of course he wouldn't need to eat down here, she berated herself, feeling silly. But something about the matter-of-fact way he referenced his death unnerved her. He sounded so casual, as if the fact that his soul had been violently ripped out as payment for her mistakes didn't mean anything. As if his body wasn't laid out in a glass coffin in Regina's vault, frozen as though in sleep.
As if none of it should even matter.
She frowned, thinking again of the weird scene they'd witnessed. She hadn't recognized every face in the crowd, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that they were all people Killian had wronged – or thought he'd wronged – in some way, every last one of them baying for his blood. She could only imagine how that must have affected him. Killian carried his past with him every minute of the day, dragging it behind him like a ball and chain, letting it weigh him down as though afraid he'd fall back on old habits if he let himself forget for even an instant.
They'd all been confused, pulling open that heavy stone door to find themselves standing in the middle of a large town, the dank green air of the Underworld replaced by the harsh light of the sun overhead. She hadn't had long to consider the strangeness of it all, though, the angry crowd nearby immediately drawing her attention. It'd taken her a minute to understand what she was looking at, Regina and her parents stiffening at the large wooden structure in the centre of the mob.
Apparently, public executions were a familiar occurrence in the Enchanted Forest.
But it wasn't the gallows themselves that had thrown her — it was the people running the execution. She'd been rooted to the spot as she'd caught sight of her family, decked out in fancy outfits that mirrored the clothes Arthur and Guinevere had loaned them. Their anger had been visceral as they watched the proceedings from overhead, all of them intently focused on the action below.
All, except for the woman seated at the far end. Emma's eyes had widened as she'd spotted herself on the balcony, feeling as though the world had spun upside-down.
She'd been dressed in a soft blue gown that would've put Cinderella to shame, her curls littered with little diamonds and an honest-to-god tiara on her head. Even in Camelot, she'd never been comfortable wearing such frilly clothes — a discomfort she was sure had shown in her movements, something slightly awkward that broadcasted to the world that she was just a regular person playing dress-up.
But there had been no mistaking the fact that the Emma on the balcony was a real princess — regal and composed. And also completely devoid of emotion.
Whereas everyone else was visibly struggling to contain their anger, all but chomping at the bit to see Killian in pain, she'd been completely indifferent, staring off into the distance as though she couldn't care less what happened to him. Even as the battle had raged on around her, Killian wrenching and twisting for the smallest gasp of air, she'd paid it no mind, her features cold and disinterested. As though he meant nothing, his suffering little more than a minor inconvenience to her.
Is that how he sees me? The thought sat like a heavy weight in her gut, the trees growing denser around them. Does he think I don't care what happens to him? Or was it just Hades' way of screwing with him?
"Is that my ring?"
Emma startled. She glanced at Killian, whose gaze was focused on a point near her sternum. She flushed as she realized she'd been absently playing with his necklace again.
She dropped her hand.
"Yeah," she said awkwardly, her cheeks burning. "Sorry, I just— here—" Reluctantly, she made to remove it, but he waved her off.
"No," he said, his tone inscrutable. "It's fine. I'm—"
A loud screech cut him off, Emma's heart skipping a beat. The fury!
But the dark gray figure swooping down out of the trees was too small to be a fury, its spindly bat-like wings flapping loudly as it dove at David.
"Look out!"
David ducked, rolling on the ground, his hand fumbling for his sword. Her mother swiped at the creature with the side of her bow. She missed, the creature darting away with another screech. Its arms and legs were thin but powerful, long sharp claws protruding from the ends of its four-fingered hands.
Emma drew her cutlass. She saw Killian raising his hook out of the corner of her eye, determined.
"Get down!" Regina pushed Henry behind her as another beast appeared. She threw a fireball at the second one, David grunting as he swung at a third, his blade slicing through the air. The creature hissed, baring sharp-looking teeth, its yellow eyes narrowing.
"What are these things?"
Belle grabbed a heavy branch off the ground, swinging it as one of the creatures dove at her. She missed, stumbling backward as its claws swiped the air just in front of her face.
"I think... they're gargoyles," she hissed, striking again. The branch connected with a heavy thud as the beast exploded into dust. The strength of the hit sent her spinning, and she struggled to catch her footing. One of Mary Margaret's arrows flew past her head, exploding another creature that'd been poised to attack.
"Lovely," said Killian, swiping at one of the gargoyles that was hovering just out of range of his hook. Emma spun, grazing the wing of one of the beasts.
Dust exploded over David as he struck another one. He winced, turning just in time to hold off another that had swooped in when his back was turned. "Anyone else getting a flying monkey vibe?"
"Let's hope their scratch isn't as dangerous," said Henry, holding his sword with both hands as he faced off with one of the smaller gargoyles.
Emma kicked one of the creatures in the chest. It howled angrily just as she used her cutlass to finish the job.
"Don't let any of them near you and we won't have to find out!"
Sweat beaded on her forehead as she fought, adrenaline coursing in her veins as more appeared from the trees.
"At least they're easy enough to kill," Mary Margaret said, loosing and reloading arrows faster than Emma could track. "But I'm going to run out of arrows soon."
"Less talking, more fighting," Regina chastised, sending twin fireballs at a pair of gargoyles hovering overhead. There were more of them coming now, the air thick with high-pitched shrieking and the sound of flapping wings. Emma grimaced, her head yanking back as claws pulled at her hair. She twisted her shoulder to knock the creature away. An arrow whizzed past her, the gargoyle showering her with dust.
"There's too many of them!" said Belle, backing up to stand next to Henry, the branch in her hand swinging wildly as she kept a trio of gargoyles at bay.
She was right — they were sitting ducks out here in the open. Emma whirled to face another one, cutting it across the ribs. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, her mind racing. She ducked as one flew past her head, its long gray wings beating loudly.
"The trees," she shouted. The forest around them had gotten thicker as they walked, the trees closer together. There would be less space there for the gargoyles to spread their wings, making it harder to swarm them.
Her dad nodded. "She's right, it's our best shot!"
A new wave of gargoyles appeared overhead, blocking out the sky and making it difficult to see. Emma ducked again. She lost sight of Henry and Regina, but she could hear Killian nearby, cursing loudly.
"Run!" she yelled, hoping the others could hear her over the din.
She heard a scream — Belle! She could just make out the two gargoyles pulling the smaller woman by the hair. A blade swung out of the chaos, freeing her.
"Go, go!" David said, pushing Belle toward the tree line.
Emma fought her way through the swarm, her heart racing. She couldn't see any of the others, but the trees were just ahead of her. She grimaced, half wishing she'd brought her gun with her instead of her cutlass, nostalgia be damned.
She finally broke free, her cutlass clenched tightly in her fist.
She made a break for the forest, a flurry of screeches chasing after her.
Killian ran, his boots pounding against the hard-packed dirt. He dodged a tree, his foot catching on one of the roots, and he stumbled, his speed propelling him forward.
A loud shriek behind him was his only warning, one of the cursed beasts swooping out of the darkness. He turned, swinging his arm in a wide arc, his hook missing its target by mere inches. The creature twisted away, screeching again. He backed up as quickly as he could, searching for steadier footing even as he tripped over the uneven ground.
He brandished his hook again, catching the beast in the neck. It burst into dust, but a second one was just behind it, its teeth bared.
His boot caught on another hazard behind him. He fell, wincing as he landed hard on his back. The creature dove, sensing easy prey. Killian cast his eyes around him in desperation, grabbing a study-looking stick off the ground.
He thrust the stick in front of him, stabbing the gargoyle through the chest with great satisfaction. It howled as it exploded, the sound echoing in the trees long after the beast itself had been extinguished.
Killian's hand tightened around the stick. He lay still another moment, straining to listen for the flapping of wings, but the only noise to be heard was that of his own heavy breathing, his heart still racing from the excitement.
He dug his elbows into the ground, pushing himself up with a grimace. For a dead man, he had certainly felt the impact of his fall. Death may have spared him the burdens of hunger and thirst, but he seemed to feel all other ails just as keenly as he had before.
He felt a tightness around his neck, his breath catching at the phantom pull of a rope. He gasped, the stick falling from his grip as his hand shot to his throat.
The feeling vanished as quickly as it had come, his fingers absently rubbing the unblemished skin. He took a deep breath, greedily filling his lungs, before letting his hand fall with a shake of his head.
It was an illusion, he berated himself, feeling foolish. You were never in any real danger. It had just been another trick of the Underworld, like the starry sky Hades had summoned overhead.
He turned his attention back to the forest, cursing as he realized the path they'd been following was no longer in sight. He scanned the shadows of the trees, searching for a glimpse of the others he'd thought were behind him, but he found himself quite alone. Perhaps they'd gone a different way? He could only hope they'd all managed to get away safely.
And a fat load of good you did them, he thought scornfully. His hook was useful enough in close combat, but he'd been fairly outgunned against the flying beasts, with not even a sword to contribute to the fight. And now they were separated, with Hades' deadline ticking away above them. He couldn't even see the sky anymore through the trees. How many precious minutes had they wasted fending off the gargoyles? How many remained?
At least he could see the space around him well enough, despite the heavy canopy of leaves overhead. The same putrid green air he'd come to despise lit the trunks of the trees and the dirt beneath his feet, casting an eerie glow.
He picked his way through the forest, wishing he had his compass with him, although he suspected it would have been of little use. He wondered bitterly whether Hades was enjoying watching them fumble their way through the Fields — one final hopeless quest in the daring adventures of Captain Hook. Only, this time, it wasn't Hook who had something to lose.
There was water babbling ahead of him, the sound giving him hope. He was having difficulty getting his bearings surrounded by trees on all sides, but a river or stream would at least give him a direction to follow. Perhaps he would find the others as well.
He pushed a branch out of his way, spotting an open clearing, the sound of trickling water growing louder. A stream cut through the empty space, its murky water flowing softly. He frowned, peering closer at the familiar white wisps floating just underneath the surface.
It was the same river he'd come across when he'd first arrived in the Underworld. Did that mean they were near the entrance? He glanced in either direction, hoping for some sign of where the water was flowing from, but there were only more trees to be seen, their twisted branches blocking his line of sight.
He turned back to the river, the wisps swimming in and out of focus. Just as before, the dark water appeared to get deeper the closer he got to it, one of the delicate white figures twisting toward the riverbank as though it were reaching for him, its hand outstretched...
He jerked back, shaking away the strange dizziness that had overtaken him, Hades' warning ringing in his ears. The god may not have been very forthcoming about the river's origins, but he figured he had a good reason for advising Killian to keep his distance.
Dangerous or not, though, it gave him a direction to follow. Now, if only he could find the others.
"I'm afraid they're long gone, mate."
He whirled around, his eyes widening.
He was staring at himself, dressed all in black, his leather greatcoat hanging down to his calves. His dress shirt was buttoned low on his chest, displaying the charms on his necklaces for all to see. His fingers glistened with the heavy jeweled rings Killian had locked in the safe on his ship so many months ago.
The other him smirked at his confusion, dark circles of kohl surrounding his even darker blue eyes. He knew that expression all too well.
Killian swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. Just another one of Hades' tricks.
"What do you want?" he asked warily, watching the other man closely.
The other man shrugged nonchalantly, taking in their surroundings. "A man can't take a little time to talk to himself?"
Killian scowled. "I don't have time for games."
"In a hurry to get back to the others?" the imposter drawled, picking his nails with the tip of his hook, false boredom dripping from his every movement. "Sorry to say, they didn't feel the same. They summoned Hades to accept his deal after the gargoyles attacked. Must have decided you weren't worth the risk."
He tilted his head, quirking an eyebrow with deep amusement. "Looks like you're stuck down here for good this time."
Killian pushed down a trickle of uncertainty at the notion. It was another illusion, just like the gallows and the raging mob that had surrounded it. Another deception sent to distract him from his task.
"They wouldn't do that."
The declaration did little to convince his doppelganger, who chuckled, a tinge of feigned pity mixing with the look of revulsion on his face.
"You had to know they wouldn't really risk being stuck here for all eternity just to save an old pirate who should've died centuries ago," he said, wrapping his hand around his belt with a confident cant of his hips. "Why should they put themselves in harm's way? They're heroes — their lives are worth ten of yours. Not exactly a hard choice to make, now, is it?"
"So, why are you here, then?" Killian spat, clenching his hand.
The imposter seemed to be enjoying his discomfort, a cruel smile pulling at the corner of his lips. The sight was rather unnerving, a bit like looking into a twisted mirror, or perhaps a time portal of some kind. This was the man who'd threatened those who opposed him without mercy, who'd taken the lives of enemies and strangers alike, all without a single ounce of remorse.
He walked a slow path in front of Killian, clearly relishing the moment as well as the dramatics. "Well, I seem to recall you being sentenced to several lifetimes' worth of punishment. A punishment you keep trying to cheat your way out of."
He swaggered as he walked, the movements as familiar as they were disconcerting to see from the other side. He bent and grabbed a long, sturdy stick off the ground, twirling it with a flourish as he straightened. "You didn't seem to enjoy the last punishment the Underworld gave you. What do you say we try something new?"
With a disinterested flick, he tossed the stick along the ground toward him. It rolled, coming to a stop just in front of Killian's feet.
The lookalike gave a well-practiced sneer, slowly unsheathing the sword at his side, the metal singing in the stillness that surrounded them. He lazily held the blade at the ready as he raised his eyebrow again, his intentions clear.
Killian tensed. "It's bad form to challenge a man without a sword to a duel," he said, knowing it wouldn't make a bit of difference to the other man. His memory flashed on a rusty cutlass, thrown carelessly to the deck in front of a quivering spinner.
The pretender's smirk deepened.
"What does good form matter to a villain?"
His jaw clenching, Killian stooped to pick up the branch, his eyes never leaving his opponent. The stick was rough in his grip, barely the width of his wrist, knobby and crooked. It wouldn't last long against a sharpened sword. He readied his stance all the same, preparing for a fight.
The other Hook watched him with an air of mockery, clearly unthreatened. The green light that surrounded them reflected off the edge of his blade.
"Am I meant to fear for my life?" Killian asked sardonically, his irritation spiking as he shifted to a wider stance. If this was truly to be his punishment, he meant to meet it head-on. "I've been killed a number of times since I arrived here — it never seemed to stick."
The imposter appeared unconcerned, his grin darkening a shade. "As they say, there are fates worse than death."
He struck without warning, Killian jumping back just as the blade sliced the air where he'd been standing. He chuckled grimly to himself. He of all people should have known better than to expect a fair fight.
"So, my new punishment is for me to face myself?" Killian said, dodging another blow. "A bit trite, isn't it?"
The doppelganger whirled, his sword catching the edge of the branch. Killian ducked as a piece of bark went flying. If he wanted to last more than a few minutes, he'd need a better weapon or a distraction.
"The last punishment was a bit over-the-top, but at least it was creative," he continued, infusing his voice with as much joviality as he could, his eyes tracking the forest behind his double for something he could use.
A hard blow sent a shockwave through his wrist, nearly knocking the branch from his hand.
"Trying to stall, mate?" the other Hook asked with amusement. "You're not still hoping one of the others will come along and save your sorry hide, are you?"
Killian parried, focused on deflecting the oncoming attacks with minimal damage to the branch.
"So much for the dreaded Captain Hook — nothing more than a coward waiting for rescue from the heroes who couldn't wait to leave him behind."
Killian's teeth ached with the force of his grinding. His next strike missed by several feet, his opponent's amusement growing.
"Of course, it's not the first time you've overestimated your own importance," the doppelganger laughed, his dark eyes glimmering. "Did you really believe she needed your help? That they'd need your help to break the dark curse? A washed-up pirate who's convinced himself he can somehow earn redemption for centuries of evil?"
The blade came at him again and again, hacking away at the branch. The wood vibrated in Killian's hand with the force of each blow.
"You've never been more than an annoyance in their eyes — a hanger-on whose only real value was his decades of association with the various villains they faced. They used you when it was convenient, and forget you when it wasn't, didn't they?"
Killian blocked a high swing and pushed, forcing the blade away. "You're wrong. They came down here to find me."
"They came here for Emma," the imposter corrected. "They've never cared about you — it was always about her. Do you think they would have given your death a second thought if she hadn't decided to fetch her loyal pet? Face facts, mate — none of them gave a damn about you. They tolerated you at best, because Emma liked having someone to follow her around and do her bidding."
The words stung, Killian struggling to keep his focus on the fight.
"She's not like that," he grunted, swinging the branch. The strike went wide again, the other man dodging it easily with a knowing smile.
"Of course not," he said, rolling his eyes with exaggerated theatricality. "Did you really believe she came down here because she loves you? You know she'll never care about you as much as you do her, no matter how much you wish differently. How could she? Deep down, you know you'll never be worth more than the handful of coins Captain Silver bought you for."
Killian growled, lunging for the other man. The double stepped out of the way with a laugh, his sword slicing Killian's bicep with a quick flick of his wrist.
He hissed at the sting of pain, pressing the wrist of his bad arm against the cut. The wound was shallow — merely toying with his prey — a small trickle of blood staining his leather coat. He spared a moment to wonder whether blood loss was even any cause for concern for one who was already deceased.
The lookalike laughed again, the sound thick with derision.
"You were a sight to behold, once," he said, shaking his head. "The fierce Captain Hook — scourge of the seven seas. Now, you're nothing but a neutered imitation, begging for scraps of attention from a cold, loveless woman who spends more of her time running from you than toward you. A woman so closed-off, she chose a cursed life as a Dark One over a future with you."
Splinters cut into Killian's palm as he clenched the branch tighter, his hand shaking. The words were like barbs under his skin, hard as he tried to block them out.
"Don't talk about her like that," he intoned.
The other Hook's mouth twisted into a warped smile. "It's quite the leash she's got you on, isn't it, mate?" he said conversationally, lunging, the strength of his attack sending Killian off-balance. "Extended all the way to the afterlife. Then again, you can't seem to stop putting yourself under the heel of one master or another, can you?" He sneered, his blade a flurry of attacks, Killian struggling to keep up. "Captain Warnes, Captain Silver, Pan, Regina, Cora, Greg and Tamara, the Crocodile — and now, the Saviour and her family." He huffed derisively.
"You think you've changed, but all you've done is trade your old collar in for a new one."
Killian was vaguely aware that he was being forced back in the direction of the river. He tried to pivot to the side, wary of Hades' warning, but his feeble attempts were easily blocked. He gritted his teeth.
The imposter smiled at his efforts, clearly enjoying the game.
"Even knowing all of that, you just keep following after her like a good little puppy dog, happy for the tiniest shred of affection. You're so desperate for someone to care about you that you don't even have the dignity to realize you're being used. It's pathetic."
Killian's boots slid in the soft mud, costing him his footing. The other him pressed his advantage, shouldering him in the chest. He fell, landing hard on his back, his head dashing against a rock. He stifled a shout, pain blossoming across his skull, his ears ringing as his vision went blurry.
The doppelganger stood over him in disgust, studying his prone form. Killian struggled to lift his branch, but his movements were sloppy and uncoordinated, the blow to his head still leaving him dizzy. The other Hook knocked the stick out of his hand with little effort, the weapon landing some feet away.
Killian tried to swallow past the spinning long enough to come up with another attack, but it appeared his double had grown tired of playing, levelling his sword at Killian's chest.
"Now what?" Killian bit out, knowing he was beaten. "I'm already dead."
His opponent sheathed his sword and stooped down, grabbing a fistful of Killian's shirt.
"I told you, mate," he said with relish, his face crowding Killian's. "There are fates worse than death."
He glanced meaningfully at the river lapping mere inches from Killian's head. It took Killian's confused mind another long moment to grasp his intentions, even as he felt the other man yank him up by the shirt. He closed his eyes, awaiting the inevitable.
Something slammed into his double, knocking him away. Killian dropped back to the ground, groaning as his head hit the rock again, sending the world into another nauseating spiral.
He slowly rolled to his side, vaguely aware of movement nearby. He cringed, squinting at the blurry figures, his thoughts muddled and heavy as though they were being pulled through thick molasses.
"Leave him alone," said Emma, throwing the branch she was holding aside and drawing her cutlass. Killian's heart gave a lurch. She's still here.
The lookalike had recovered from the blow, facing off against her with a leer.
"Come to retrieve your play thing, have you?" he taunted, circling her slowly. Emma mirrored his movements, poised for attack. "Tell me, what did you miss first about him — the blind devotion or the constant willingness to serve as your punching bag? It's nice having someone around who doesn't question you even when you're wrong, isn't it?"
Emma faltered, and the doppelganger struck lightning-fast, her cutlass blocking his attack at the last minute. Their blades crossed, locking at the hilt. He didn't let up, using his strength to force her backward. She strained to maintain her grip as he bore down against the steel.
"What now, love? Are you going to use your magic on me?" he asked, his face close to hers. "Force me to do your bidding?"
Killian pushed himself to his elbows, willing his body to obey. He was dead, damn it, the pain he was feeling wasn't real. Emma was.
Emma shoved the other Hook away, a pained expression on her face. She brandished the cutlass, visibly struggling to contain her emotions.
The imposter spread his arms wide, mockingly inviting her attack.
"Or are you going to kill me again?" he taunted. "It's a bit of a habit with you, isn't it, Swan? Hurting those around you."
Emma recoiled, her eyes bright with tears. Her cutlass lowered slightly, leaving her vulnerable. Killian clambered to his feet as the other man tensed, preparing for the final attack.
Killian leapt, tackling his double to the ground. His side flared with pain as the other man's hook caught him across the ribs. The sword fell from the imposter's grip, and they both lunged for it, Killian just managing to grasp the handle before the other Hook's fingers could close around it.
He rolled onto his back, blocking the other man's hook as it veered toward him, the blade clanging loudly from the impact. Killian kicked, forcing the other man back far enough to allow him to get to his feet.
His double gave him a smug look. "You've already lost to me once, mate. You really think you can defeat me?"
Killian didn't answer, anger coursing through his veins. He swung, the other man deflecting the blade again and again with his hook.
He saw his opening, striking high and shoving his shoulder into the other man's sternum as he blocked the attack, knocking him off his feet. Killian was on him in an instant, his knee on his forearm, keeping his hook at bay.
He raised the sword over his head, thrusting down into the imposter's chest.
The other Hook winced as the blow landed, but his body was soon enveloped in thick black smoke, vanishing away into nothingness along with Killian's sword.
Hades.
He sat back on his heels, still breathing hard from the exertion, his skull aching fiercely.
Killian stood, fighting back a lingering wave of vertigo as he pushed his hair out of his eyes. He glanced back at Emma, who was staring at her hands, lost in thought.
"Are you all right?" he asked, taking a step toward her. Her head shot up, her hands falling to her sides.
She smiled weakly, her eyes clearing of their former uncertainty. "Yeah, I'm fine. Are you? That thing didn't hurt you, did it?"
He looked down at himself, taking stock of his injuries. His arm was still bleeding sluggishly, despite his lack of a heartbeat. The cut on his side was even shallower, little more than a flesh wound.
"Nothing serious," he answered. Truthfully, he wasn't certain what would qualify as a serious injury to someone who was already dead — he'd long since given up trying to make sense of the Underworld and its rules.
Her eyes fell to the spot where the doppelganger had disappeared. "What was that thing?"
Killian avoided her gaze, scratching the back of his head.
"Just another of Hades' ruses," he dismissed. "I suppose it was too much to hope that the gargoyles would be the only annoyance we'd have to deal with."
She nodded vaguely, an indecipherable look on her face. It made him feel inexplicably lonely, the uncertainty from before returning with a vengeance. He used to be so good at reading her.
"Have you seen the others?" he asked. A fresh wave of guilt rushed through him as he peered up at the gnarled branches above their heads, the starry sky blocked from view. How much time had he squandered battling that figment?
Emma shook her head, still watching him carefully.
"We should probably try to head for the peak," he said, shifting under her gaze. "Water usually runs away from a mountain — if we follow the river upstream, we might be able to find our way back to the path. With any luck, the others will do the same."
She signaled her agreement, sheathing her weapon.
They walked in uncomfortable silence, Emma staring off in thought. Killian's chest felt tighter and tighter with each step he took, dread pooling within him. He had no way of knowing how many of the doppelganger's taunts she'd overheard, but the arms-length of distance she was keeping between them made Killian fear the worst.
The imposter's verbal attacks had cut deeper than he cared to admit, the fears and insecurities that had been plaguing him all laid bare. Had that been Hades' game all along — exposing Killian's weaknesses to Emma, forcing her to take the full measure of the man she'd risked her life for? Was she wondering whether she'd made the right choice in not taking Hades' offer?
Even if she hadn't overheard everything, there was still the matter of the cruel accusations his double had hurled at her directly. Whatever his doppelganger's intentions, the speech had clearly hit its mark judging from the look on her face. Killian was at a loss for how to begin to repair things.
The silence of the forest seemed all-encompassing, the distance between them widening with every step. When did we become such strangers to one another?
He tried to ignore the voice that whispered that perhaps things had always been this way, the lookalike's insinuations echoing in his mind. 'Begging for scraps of attention from a woman who spends more of her time running from you than toward you.'
The words stung, but he wondered on the truth of them, his mind helpfully supplying examples of Emma's reticence to let him in, to tell him she loved him. Was it only her walls that had kept her from opening herself up to him, or was it more? He'd always allowed her to take the lead, reassuring himself that he was merely giving her the time and space she needed to become comfortable with each step of their relationship, but perhaps there'd been more to her hesitation than just old fears resurfacing. Perhaps a part of her had recognized something in him that she was reluctant to acknowledge aloud.
Perhaps they'd both been fooling themselves, neither willing to admit what was right in front of them.
He kept his emotions off his face, his pace measured and resigned in a way that reminded him far too strongly of the path he'd walked to the gallows. Hades' clock continued to tick away above them, invisible through the trees, but couldn't help feeling as though it was counting down on more than just their quest.
The woods around them were oppressively quiet as they walked, leaving Emma with far too much time to think.
She flexed her wrists discretely, her joints still aching from the effort of bracing against the force of Killian's blade.
Not Killian, she reminded herself. He wasn't the man she'd fought back there, even if the imposter had worn his face.
In some ways, it was a face she'd hardly recognized. Killian had changed a lot in the time she'd known him but seeing him back in full pirate mode had been more of a shock than she'd expected.
It had been like looking into a window to the past. Except that the image had been warped, a distortion of the Hook she'd first encountered in the Enchanted Forest. That Hook had been self-serving, sure, but he'd also been playful, taking every spare moment to tease and flirt with her. He'd been almost single-minded in his quest for vengeance, but there'd been cracks in his cocky exterior, brief moments of vulnerability that hinted that there was more beneath the surface than just a smug, self-centered opportunist.
There'd been nothing vulnerable about the man they'd faced at the river, his actions calculated and cruel. It'd been Captain Hook at his worst — no hidden sense of honour or long-lost love to soften his edges. Just a selfish villain who took pleasure in the pain of others.
It was a version of Hook she didn't know, but from the expression on Killian's face, it was one that terrified him.
Initially, she'd assumed the lookalike was just a cheap distraction on Hades' part, the familiar face and clothes intended to throw them off their game. It hadn't really clicked for her until Killian had driven the sword through the fake-Hook's heart, the flash of hatred and revulsion in his eyes catching her off-guard.
The imposter hadn't just been a twisted reflection of Killian. It was how Killian saw himself.
The realization had sent a shockwave through her, her thoughts screeching to a halt. After all this time, Killian still thought of himself as a villain with no morals and no hope of redemption. She hadn't heard every taunt the clone-Hook had hurled at him, but she'd caught enough to understand that it was attacking Killian's weak points, going after the worries and fears he tried to hide, even from her.
And from where she'd been standing, he'd been more successful than not.
It had surprised her more than it should have, being faced with the extent of his insecurities. She knew Killian wasn't proud of the man he'd been. He went to great efforts to avoid discussing his past in all but the barest of terms, and even then, every description he gave was drenched in derision. But she'd hoped he had started to move past it — to begin seeing himself as the man he'd become instead.
They'd both tried so hard to put their pasts behind them, to start fresh with one another. But she hadn't known how strongly his still affected him.
Guilt pooled in her gut. Or maybe you didn't want to know.
She dropped her gaze, careful to avoid looking at the water to their left. Killian had done little more than nod when she'd explained the river's danger and the nature of the shadowy figures beneath the surface. She didn't know if Killian felt the same tug she did, the same urge to wander into its depths, but she'd made sure to keep a wide distance from the water, consciously placing herself between Killian and the riverbank.
She couldn't shake the memory of the fake-Hook grabbing a fistful of Killian's shirt, clearly intending to drag him into the river. Belle's warning had flashed through her mind, her blood running cold at the thought of him being trapped forever as one of the faceless wisps, nothing more than a memory.
But what had scared her more had been the resigned acceptance that had crossed Killian's features in that instant.
He'd stopped fighting, ready to accept the inevitable. More memories flashed before her eyes of him meekly levelling his sword at an evil Snow White, and shoving Henry out of the path of an oncoming fury. Killian facing certain death for others was nothing new — she knew he'd do anything to protect the people he cared about. But when it was his own life on the line, he'd just given up.
The riverbank began to curve, and she adjusted her course. Her arm brushed the leather of Killian's sleeve, and he recoiled slightly, covering the movement by curling his hook to his side. She blinked, the subtle rejection hurting more sharply than she'd expected.
Killian stared straight ahead, his expression pinched. She swallowed, her throat dry as she remembered the phony-Hook's taunts toward her. If the stuff he'd said to Killian really was how Killian saw himself, then what about the things he'd said about her?
'What did you miss first about him — the blind devotion or the constant willingness to serve as your punching bag?'
She didn't know if Killian had overheard the jeers, but maybe it didn't matter. The Killian she knew would never have said the things the clone-Hook had, but those feelings had to have come from somewhere, didn't they?
'It's always been about your needs.'
Stop it. She was being stupid, playing right into Hades' game. He wanted to distract them, to keep their focus off of completing their task.
But as the silence stretched between them, growing more uncomfortable with each passing second, she couldn't help but think that it was working.
Not for the first time since entering the cursed woods, Killian wished for some glimpse of the sky through the twisted branches above them. They'd been walking long enough for the pace to begin to affect Emma, her energy visibly flagging despite her obvious determination. It was nerve-wracking not knowing how much farther the mountain was, or how much time they had left, but without the moon and the stars for guidance there was no way to tell for certain.
Of course, it could be the unrelenting silence making it feel as though they'd been walking for an eternity, hardly a word spoken between them since the doppelganger had vanished. He got the sense that they were both bracing for the unpleasant conversation that surely awaited them.
Killian was in no great rush to initiate things himself, part of him taking some small measure of comfort in what was beginning to feel like the last few moments before the storm broke. As maddening as the uncertainty was, he suspected he'd much prefer it to the confrontation that was sure to follow.
At least his vision had returned to normal, his ears ceasing their incessant ringing. His head still ached some, but it was a manageable pain — a welcome one, even — the dull throb giving him something else to focus on.
His wounds had ceased bleeding, though he still felt a sharp sting across his ribs if he twisted his upper body too quickly. The cut was far shallower than the one he'd sustained in Camelot, but he thought its location along the side of his chest was nearly identical. Of course, there was no scar from the first wound to know for certain — Emma had seen to that.
She'd made no attempt to heal his injuries this time, or even offered, her hands never straying from her sides. He wasn't sure what to make of that, the behaviour in stark contrast to their past interactions.
It's not as though you were gravely injured, mate, he chided himself. Why should she waste her magic healing a dead man? Still, he couldn't help but wonder if that was all there was to it.
'A woman so closed-off, she chose a cursed life as a Dark One over a future with you.'
Even if she hadn't overheard the insult, the ones that had followed had been just as cruel. After all of the effort she'd made at breaking down her walls, he knew it would have been painful for her to have them warped into an accusation, a weapon to be used against her. He could only imagine how ungrateful and selfish it must have sounded coming from someone who wore his face, especially after everything Emma had done to retrieve him.
'Deep down, you know you'll never be worth more than the handful of coins Captain Silver bought you for.'
"Does it still hurt?"
The question startled him from his thoughts. He glanced sideways at Emma, who was watching him closely, a small crease between her eyebrows.
He tilted his head in confusion, following her gaze. He flushed as he realized he'd been absently rubbing his neck again, massaging the skin where the rope had once burned.
He dropped his arm, shame filling him at the reminder of the earlier humiliation she'd witnessed. Gods, why had she even bothered coming to the Underworld for his sorry hide?
"It's fine, love," he assured her, masking a wince at the term of endearment that had fallen from his lips out of habit. "The injury is long gone."
He cast his mind about desperately for another topic to latch onto, but Emma continued to watch him with that strange expression on her face.
"About that..." she said hesitantly after a moment, averting her eyes. "You never really explained what was happening back there. When we first found you."
He closed his eyes. So much for a change in topic.
"It was my punishment," he answered after a time, scratching behind his ear.
"...Punishment for what?" she asked.
He sighed.
"For a lifetime of sins. You know the things I've done." He didn't want to talk about this, had no desire to relive the sensation of standing on those gallows over and over again, awaiting the inevitable, but damn it all if he could ever refuse her anything. "I was sentenced to relive the same moment over and over again. With some minor changes," he added tonelessly.
"So, wait, you went through that more than once? The— the whole—" she cut off abruptly, looking disturbed at the notion.
"Hanging?" he finished brightly, infusing his tone with a hint of levity he didn't feel. "Aye, a few times," he deflected.
In truth, he had no idea how long he'd been in that cavern. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd made the journey from the dungeon, felt the noose tightening around his neck and the terrifying resignation of being unable to do anything except wait to die. On some level, he'd known what was happening to him, known that he was never in any mortal danger, but it had never stopped it from feeling real.
Emma swallowed, her eyes bright.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "You shouldn't have had to go through that."
"It's not your fault. It's no more than I deserved," he said hollowly. How many times had that thought echoed in his head as he'd made his way up those steps, as he'd stood under the judgmental gaze of nearly everyone he'd ever known?
She looked at him sharply. "Why would you say that? Killian, you didn't deserve that — it was just something Hades worked up to mess with you, like the gargoyles."
He huffed a small, humourless laugh.
"It wasn't Hades' doing, Swan," he admitted. "He said the punishments are created by the person themselves. They're tailored to each soul, to what's already inside them."
If possible, Emma looked even more troubled by this information. He found himself wishing another gargoyle would attack them, if only to put an end to the conversation. It was bad enough knowing he deserved the fate he'd been assigned, but Emma knowing it as well was more humiliation than he could bear.
"Then, is that what you really think of me?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly.
The question caught him off-guard. He frowned, trying to discern her meaning.
"The 'me' in the punishment," she clarified, her cheeks colouring as she stared resolutely ahead. "Up on the balcony, while you were being..." she cut off, swallowing again. "Is that how you see me?"
He considered her words, thinking back to the Emma from the punishment, her beauty almost unbearable to behold, her golden tresses layered with gems. Some part of him had known she was a figment — the real Swan would never have been completely at ease in the role of a princess, for all that it was her birthright. But the punishment had had a way of distorting things, turning the people he once knew into more severe versions of themselves.
Was it the sight of herself as royalty that was bothering Emma? Had the vision of herself as part of the royal family cut too closely to the reminder of things she had lost?
Apparently, his response was taking too long for Emma's tastes, her shoulders hunching.
"Do you really think I could ever stand by when you were being hurt and not do anything?"
"Of course not," he replied, taken aback. He recalled the cruel words the other Hook had bandied at her, grief pooling in his gut at the self-doubt that must have been plaguing her. "You're a hero, Swan, you'd never stand by when anyone else was suffering, no matter who it was."
"You're not anyone, Killian," she said pointedly, his words apparently failing to reassure her. "The other me, the one from your punishment, she didn't even look at you, she wasn't even watching when they—" her breath hitched. "It was like she didn't care at all what happened to you. And I've been trying to convince myself that it doesn't mean anything, that it wasn't real, but then there's everything the other you was saying and—"
She took a breath, steeling herself. "Do you really think I don't need you? That I don't care?"
He shook his head, his eyes softening. "Of course I know you care, Swan. But if you and the others hadn't come here, you'd have been fine without me," he assured her, the memory of her reflection in Hades' pool still tugging at him, though he knew it was selfish. "You broke the curse without me, didn't you?"
He hated himself for the tiny shade of bitterness that seeped into the words. Unfortunately, it didn't escape Emma's notice.
"I do need you," she protested. "I broke the curse with you, Killian. I kissed you after— after the fury..." she looked away, struggling to contain her emotions. "It was True Love's Kiss that broke the curse, but it wasn't enough to bring you back."
Killian reeled from the revelation, but he had hardly a second to consider the implications as she continued.
"It's been awful without you these past few weeks. It felt like a part of me was missing, and knowing that you spent all that time thinking that I was better off without you, or that I didn't feel the same way—"
"Swan..."
She didn't appear to hear him, her words taking on a frantic edge. "I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel unwanted, or like I didn't feel as strongly as you did. I know I'm a hard person to love sometimes—"
"Emma, no," he cut her off, his heart seizing painfully in his chest. He longed to halt them both, to look her in the eye, but he knew they couldn't afford to slow down. "I love you more than anything in this life or the next, and I know how hard it is for you to be open with others. My only regret since arriving here was that I wasn't there for you when you needed it."
The declaration seemed to grant her little comfort, a pained expression crossing her features.
"You always do that," she said softly, closing her eyes.
"Do what?"
"You're always so understanding about everything," she said, frustration lacing her voice, though he was uncertain who it was directed at. "I screwed up, Killian. I let the Darkness take me. But you — you acted like you were the one who failed, like I had nothing to do with it."
"It wasn't you, love."
"It was," she insisted. "It was my decision to pick up the dagger in the first place. I'm the one who stopped fighting. I'm the one who let the Darkness in, who turned on everyone, who tried to kill Merlin—"
"If we had stood by you, it never would have happened," he ground out solemnly, his chest tight. "I let myself be drawn in by Merlin's dire warnings. I should've trusted you more, instead of letting you feel so alone."
"But I should've trusted you, too," said Emma. "You've always been there for me — you're always supporting me, telling me I can do things, pushing me to be better. But I haven't done the same for you. I've been so wrapped up in my own stuff that I didn't realize the impact my actions were having on everyone else — especially you."
She faltered, looking away. "I just... I hate that you always feel like you have to be careful around me, or that your needs aren't as important as mine. I don't want this to be a one-sided relationship — it can't just be about my issues all the time. It's okay for you to need things, too."
Killian glanced down, his boots sinking slightly in the damp soil.
"I don't wish to be a burden."
"You're not a burden," she said, her voice thick with tears. "I know I have walls, and I'm not as good at being open about my feelings as you are, but I can't stand knowing that I ever made you feel like I didn't care about you."
His heart hurt as she spoke, his arms aching to hold her. He resisted the impulse, the memory of their accidental touch earlier making him think better of the action.
"I love you, Emma," he said instead. "I know you have a good reason for your walls, and I know how hard you've worked to tear them down. And walls or not, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you."
She frowned.
"But you're not sure if I would do the same?"
Killian couldn't meet her gaze. "You came all the way to the Underworld to find me. I can't tell you what that means to me," he said, scratching behind his ear again. "I just wish I was more worthy of the effort. I never wanted you or the others to put yourselves in danger for me."
"You are worthy of it," Emma insisted. "I know you've been through a lot down here, stuff you're maybe not ready to talk about yet, but whatever Hades told you, this place doesn't define who you are."
"You know my past," he repeated tonelessly, the words sounding like a death sentence unto themselves. "It was laid out pretty clearly for me when I first arrived. The judges didn't give me anything I didn't have coming to me."
"I do know your past, but I also know your present," she said. "I know the man you are, and the man that you want to become. I wish you could see what I see — a man who works hard every day to be better than the day before. A man who turned his ship around to save a town, when he could've just kept running. A man who sacrificed himself to save two people he didn't even know from an evil queen. A man who died protecting my son—" she cut off abruptly, her voice breaking.
"You can't change your past, Killian, but you are so much more than it."
Her words struck something deep within him, bringing him up short. Ever since he'd arrived in the Underworld, he'd been haunted by the specter of his past, by a lifetime of regrets and poor decisions. He'd struggled with the knowledge of the things he'd done — of the people he'd hurt — but perhaps there was some truth to what Emma said.
He thought back to the scale that had sat before the judges, weighing the good against the bad. The deeds of his past had carried a heavy price, but in all of his self-loathing over the man he'd been, he'd forgotten that there had been good as well. And much of that good had been recent.
Perhaps people weren't so easily lumped into categories like hero and villain. Perhaps everyone was simply a work-in-progress. Choosing to do better couldn't erase the things he'd done, but it wasn't without meaning.
He may have started becoming a good man for Emma, but he'd continued because it was who he wanted to be.
He stared at the ground without seeing it, his thoughts racing.
He felt a tug on his arm. He looked down to see Emma's fingers wrapping around his hook in a way she hadn't done since the whole mess in Camelot began. She smiled shyly as they walked, swinging their arms a bit as though they were on any one of a hundred leisurely strolls down Main Street in Storybrooke.
A warm feeling washed over him, his heart lighter than it had been since before Emma had reached for the dagger.
He let himself sway closer as they walked, the leather of his jacket brushing her upper arm. Perhaps he couldn't change the past, and perhaps he could never fully make amends for the things he'd done, but for the first time in a long time, he saw a bright future ahead.
And he damn well intended to fight for it.