Author's note: I know, I know. Late again. I swear I will get faster with these. But this IS the longest chapter I have ever written. I'm rather proud of it too. So I hope it's worth the wait. :D
Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.
"Emma, wait!" Gawain yelled after her.
"No, I'm tired of waiting! It's been over a day. They won't even let me see him," she exclaimed furiously as she stalked down the corridor. Her clothes had been returned to her, so her boots clomped hard against the stone. Since Killian's arrest, Emma hadn't eaten or slept. She'd tried to sleep, but no dice. She didn't know when it had become nearly impossible for her to sleep without Killian next to her, but it had. For so long, she had slept alone. But now not only was she alone, but her other half was down in some dirty dungeon only a few floors below her. It was agony. Worse than when they'd gotten separated by Cora in Wonderland. Emma tried in vain to talk to Arthur – to demand some answers – but he'd avoided her. Now, having been rebuffed by Killian's guards for a third time, Emma had had enough. She was done playing nice with these morons.
Emma barged into Guinevere's private apartment, the door slamming against the wall. Startled at the sound, Guinevere dropped the basket she was carrying. "Emma!" she exclaimed, hand to her heart. "You frightened me. I was just..."
"Save it. Where's Arthur?"
"Emma, I know this is difficult..."
"Difficult? Difficult? Lady, you have no idea just how difficult this is for me. The man I love – my fiancé – is sitting in a dungeon for something he didn't do," she said furiously. "I'll be damned if I'm just going to leave him down there to rot. Now either help me or get the hell out of my way."
The queen held her gaze for long seconds. "Believe it or not, Emma, I was coming to do just that."
Emma looked at her, nonplussed. "You were?"
"Yes. I, too, know what it is like to have your True Love so close and yet so far."
Lancelot. Emma swallowed, uncomfortable. "Sorry. I forgot..."
Guinevere raised an elegant brow. "How could you know?"
"Um, you – all of you, really – are pretty famous in my world," Emma said. "They tell stories about you. Not all of them accurate, I'm finding."
"I see. What about your Captain?" Guinevere asked. "Are the stories about him accurate?"
She didn't need to elaborate, Emma understood. "I know Killian's done some horrible things. I haven't asked for any details, but from everything he has told me, his reputation is well earned. But he's not that man anymore. He gave up his revenge for me," she continued, suddenly perilously close to tears. "He's fought for me when no one else ever has. I won't lose him." A tear did slip down her cheek then. Emma wiped it away roughly. She didn't have time to fall apart; Killian needed her.
Tentatively, Guinevere stepped closer and gathered Emma in her arms. Emma stiffened, wondering what the queen was playing at, but gradually she began to relax. There was just something motherly about Guinevere and Emma – who had been without a mother for so long – didn't have the strength to resist the comfort the other woman offered. She couldn't stop the tears then, all her anger and frustration and loneliness too much for her to take. Guinevere stroked her back in a motherly fashion. "Hush now, child. I believe you."
Emma sniffed, trying to bring her emotions under control. "You believed me when I said I was Snow White's daughter too," she murmured. "Why?"
Guinevere smiled. "Much like you had already heard of me, I had already heard of you, Emma."
"How? I got away in the wardrobe minutes before the curse hit. My dad almost died getting me there."
The queen picked up the basket she had dropped earlier. "I was on my way to show you these, so that you would understand that my intentions were genuine. Lancelot begged me to destroy these, but I never could bring myself to do it," she said sadly. "Foolish – even dangerous – but it's all I have of him now." When Emma hesitated, Guinevere pressed the basket into her hands. "Please."
Emma took a hold of the basket absently. Guinevere guided her over to a table – the same table they had all dined at less than two days before – and Emma sat down. She looked into the basket curiously; it was filled to the brim with letters. They had no markings on the outside, but Emma knew who they were from. Lancelot. Carefully, she picked one up and opened it, then another. The looping cursive was occasionally hard to read, but they were unmistakably love letters. Embarrassed, Emma put the letters back. "Sorry," she muttered.
"No, I assure you, it's alright," Guinevere said calmly. "You see when Lancelot left – I remember it so clearly. It was very late, most of the castle was asleep. He had come to say goodbye to me earlier, but Arthur and I were hosting emissaries from King George. When I returned and learned of his intention, I tried to stop him. I caught him in the stables. I begged, pleaded with him. I loved him so much. As wrong as it was – is," the queen corrected herself, "we could not help it. And we did try."
"Why did he leave?" Emma asked.
Guinevere smiled sadly. "He could not endure it any longer. He was torn between his love for me and his love and loyalty to Arthur. His nobility! It was the thing I loved best about him, but it was also the thing that drove him away. So to protect me from the prying eyes of the court, Lancelot willingly exiled himself. It was the most painful night of my life."
"There had to be another way," Emma argued. "If he truly loved you, he'd have found a way to stay."
"Can the love be True when it is forbidden?"
Emma opened her mouth to argue, but shut it again. Guinevere was already married to Arthur and she didn't think divorce was something they did in the Enchanted Forest. But it felt so unfair. What if she'd have been a princess tied to some jerk of a prince then met Killian? She shuddered.
"Please do not judge Lancelot too harshly, my dear. We had talked of running away together, many, many times. But deep down, I knew those plans would come to nothing. Lancelot was loyal to Arthur; they were the closest of friends. And I have a duty to Camelot. Pray you never have to choose between love and duty, Emma."
"To me, love and duty are the same thing," Emma said vehemently. "I spent most of my life alone. I didn't get attached to people, kept walls around my heart. But then I found my family. And Killian. I wouldn't give any of them up for the world. I'd find a way."
Guinevere smiled. "Lancelot was right."
"About what?"
"You. You wondered how I knew about you. When he left, Lancelot kept in touch with me – discreetly – these are his letters, as I'm sure you've gathered. He told me all about his adventures, including," the queen said kindly, "meeting a bandit princess named Snow White and her prince."
"Really?"
"Indeed. Lancelot had even gone so far as to marry them in secret, as your grandmother lay dying. It was her final wish to see her son married to his True Love."
"Wow, that's...crazy." It seemed hard to believe, but Emma's lie detector told her that Guinevere was telling the truth. She wondered by Mary Margaret had never told her that story.
"Just before they parted ways, Snow entrusted Lancelot with the knowledge that she would have a daughter. He told me that he could picture no better child in the world than one born from True Love. And here you are."
Ignoring praise she had done nothing to deserve, Emma frowned. "The other night...Killian and I must make you uncomfortable."
"Nonsense. It gladdens my heart to see how deeply you love each other. Love like that is a rare gift, Emma. It must be celebrated, not hidden."
Emma doubted she could be as philosophical if she were in the queen's shoes. Suddenly, she remembered Cora. The old bat claimed to have killed Lancelot. Should she tell Guinevere? Probably not, especially since she wasn't even certain Cora had been telling the truth.
"Come, we must find Arthur," Guinevere said, standing. "This farce has gone on long enough."
They found Arthur in the Council chamber. He was there with a handful of advisers – including Kay, Emma saw, her anger flaring again – all of whom looked up when they entered. Gawain nodded at her, subtly putting himself between Emma and Kay. Arthur himself stood, sighing heavily. "I know what you're here for, princess," he said. "But I can't give it to you."
"Arthur, this is madness," Guinevere said.
"Is it madness to protect the realm from thieves and pirates?" Kay asked derisively.
"What kind of king locks someone up with no proof?" Emma shot back.
"As I said, my lady, we have all the proof we need."
"So where is it?" Emma asked, trying to get in the smug knight's face. She'd had just about enough of this jackass. But Gawain shook his head, warning her to back off. She did, reluctantly, realizing that she couldn't do Killian any good if she got locked up as well. "Where I come from a person has the right to face their accuser."
Kay swallowed, glancing at Arthur. Had he really been bluffing the whole time? There was something off about him, but Emma couldn't put her finger on it. Arthur just looked back at him, confused. "You told me you had a witness, Kay."
"I...I do, brother."
"Then go and fetch them, " Arthur commanded. "The princess is right. She and the Captain have a right to see the evidence against him."
Reluctantly, Kay did as he was commanded, limping as he left, Emma saw. A few minutes later, he returned with a girl. She was one of the servants, around sixteen with bright red hair and frightened gray eyes. The poor child twisted her plain apron nervously in her hands. Emma instantly felt bad for her. Guinevere smiled kindly at the girl, hoping to put her at ease, but it only made the girl more nervous.
"Go ahead, Marta," Kay said. "Tell the king what you told me."
When Marta hesitated, Arthur came around the table and stood in front of her. "It's alright, child," he said calmly. "If you are telling the truth, no harm will come to you. I promise."
Marta swallowed and glanced once more at Kay. The knight nodded reassuringly. "I...I...I saw that...that pirate down by the weapon's vault," the girl said quietly. "My brother, Gareth, wanders down there sometimes when I'm working. My mother's dead; I'm all he has. He's a good lad, I swear. But he...gets bored sometimes. But he never touches nothing! Anyway, I couldn't find him, so I went down there to look for him and I saw something shiny. When I got closer I saw it...that hook. I was so frightened! But he didn't see me. I wasn't sure I should say anything, but the next morning I knew I must. What would Gareth do if I got sacked?"
"Did you see the pirate take the Stone, child?" Guinevere asked.
"No, your majesty. But it was dark."
"Then how could you be sure it was Killian at all?" Emma asked.
"I told you, I saw the hook." There was something wrong here, Emma could sense it. It was too convenient.
"You see, princess?" Kay said, smugly. "Your pirate is a liar and a thief."
Emma glared at the knight. Then she turned back to the girl. "Marta, what time was it?"
Marta looked surprised by the question. "I don't rightly know, my lady. I had just finished in the kitchens."
I knew it, Emma thought. "Finished cleaning up dinner?"
"Yes, my lady."
"Then it couldn't have been Killian you saw. He was with me in our room. We had just come back from dinner with the queen."
The girl looked frantically at Kay. "But...I saw him. I swear it."
Emma looked down at her, not unkindly. She knew what it felt like to get duped by magic. "I'm sure you did. But what you saw wasn't the real Killian Jones."
"Then who was it?" Kay asked.
"Only someone with magic can turn themselves into someone else," Emma said slowly. "Morgan. Morgan did this."
"That's impossible, the castle is warded against her," Arthur said.
"The thing I've learned since all this started is that nothing is impossible," Emma shot back. "So unless you have an explanation for how Killian could be in two places at once, I'm going to run with this theory."
"You know an awful lot about magic, my lady," Kay said suspiciously.
Emma kept her face impassive; she wasn't about to let these people in on her secret. Not now. "When you deal with the Evil Queen and Rumplestiltskin on a daily basis, you learn fast."
"Arthur, you know what you must do," Guinevere said.
"Now wait just a minute," Kay shouted. "Are you going to believe the word of a stranger over one of your own subjects, brother? That man is a pirate. He's dangerous. And as for her," Kay continued looking condescendingly at Emma, "she's...in the thrall of that man, we can't believe anything she says."
Emma could tell he wanted say something else, something worse. But before she could call him out on it, Guinevere got there first. The Queen stepped forward and slapped Kay across the face, hard. "Emma is a princess of the blood, sir," she said angrily. "I will not have her insulted while I am queen."
Kay stood there, rubbing his cheek. Emma could see the red mark there. He glanced hatefully once at Guinevere, then looked at his foster brother, the king. Arthur merely nodded. "My apologies, princess," Kay muttered.
"You're not forgiven," Emma said.
"Take Marta back to the kitchens, Kay," Arthur said. "And do not come back until I call for you." As the door closed behind them, Arthur turned to Emma. "I'd like to extend my apologies as well, princess. Kay should not have spoken of you in that manner. But he is not wrong about the Captain."
"What?" Emma said in disbelief.
"Arthur, you can't mean that," Guinevere said.
"You have no proof, my love," he said. "The girl says she saw him. Unless there is proof of sorcery, I am forced to take her at her word. How will it look if I let a known pirate go free under such circumstances? Despite our best efforts, rumors are beginning to spread. I can't afford to appear weak. Not right now."
"So what happens to Killian?" Emma asked, seeing Gawain slip out from the corner of her eye.
"He will stay in my custody for now," Arthur said. "But you are free to do what you must. If you can bring me proof that some kind of sorcery is at work – that my sister is truly responsible – then I will set him free. I swear to you on my honor as King."
"May I see him?" Emma asked, trying not to focus on how unfair all of this was.
"Yes, I did not mean to keep you from him, princess. I am sorry if my guards were a bit overzealous."
"This is not what Camelot should be, Arthur," Guinevere warned. "This is not justice." The Queen placed a hand on Emma's arm. "Come, Emma."
As soon at they were out of earshot, Emma swore loudly. She almost hoped Kay would come around the next corner so that she could deck him. This was all his fault. "What is Kay's problem?" she shouted into the empty corridor.
"I believe that outburst was directed at me, not you," Guinevere said quietly.
"At you? Why?"
"I have suspected that Kay knew about Lancelot and myself. He never said anything – he loves Arthur too much for that – but occasionally he would look at me, and I could tell. He is resentful of the influence I have with my husband, always has been."
"That doesn't mean he should take it out on my fiancé," Emma retorted.
"I agree, but there is nothing we can do about that now. We must find Arthur the proof he feels he needs. I have something that should help. But you must see to the Captain first. I am sure he misses you just as much as you do him. Go."
"Why are you helping me?" Emma couldn't help but ask. Her instincts were telling her that Guinevere was on her side, but she still wanted to hear it.
Guinevere smiled. "True love is a rare thing, Emma," the queen reminded her. "It must be fought for. I did not fight hard enough for mine. I would like to do everything in my power to help you fight for yours. Lancelot would want that."
Emma swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. She hoped her instinct about Cora was right. It would be so tragically unfair if Lancelot was gone for good. "Thank you."
Emma made her way down to the dungeons; she'd done it often enough in the last twenty four hours that she didn't get lost. Once again, the two guards on duty tried to bar her way. "I have permission this time," she said loudly. "I literally just saw your stupid king. So I suggest you get the hell out of my way."
The guards exchanged a look. A figure appeared from behind them. It was Gawain; how he'd beaten her there, Emma didn't know. "Did Arthur say anything else?" he asked, nodding at the guards. They stood aside, letting Emma through.
"Let's just say he's not on my favorite people list right now," Emma replied. "Where is he?"
"Here, love."
Emma whirled around; Killian was in the cell at the end of a short corridor. Any thought of decorum or propriety flew out of her head; she ran. It was only about fifty feet but it felt like miles to her. She skidded to a stop in front of the steel bars and wrapped her hands around Killian's one, extending out through the bars. "Are you alright?" she asked breathlessly.
He gave her a half hearted smile. "I'm much better now, darling." He raised their joined hands up to his mouth and brushed his lips against her hand. It felt like a brand on her skin. She stared hard into his too blue eyes, drinking him in as if she hadn't seen him in years rather than hours. "Gods, I missed you," he said quietly.
"Me too." Then she noticed a bruise on his cheek. She raised her left hand and brushed it over the mark. "What did they do to you?"
"That? It's nothing. Kay didn't like it when I told him I didn't know where that sodding stone was."
Emma wanted to brush her fingers over the bruise and heal him, but she knew she couldn't. Not yet. Instead, Emma turned and glared at Gawain. "Where the hell were you?" she asked angrily. "You were supposed to be watching him!"
"Don't be angry with Gawain, love. I gave back as good as I got."
Emma remembered the slight limp Kay had earlier. "That was you?" she asked, amused despite herself. "Good. That guy is really getting on my nerves."
"Kay's only doing his duty, Emma," Gawain reminded her.
"That's bullshit, and you know it. He's had it out for Killian since we got here. How would you like it if I locked up one of yours on strictly circumstantial evidence?"
"You're not a citizen of Camelot," the knight said.
"But I am the Sheriff of Storybrooke," Emma said forcefully. "And the Savior. And I say this crap."
Gawain's eyebrows shot up. "Sheriff? Really?"
"Aye, mate," Killian affirmed. "And a damn good one too."
"Storybrooke sounds like a more fascinating place all the time," Gawain said in awe.
"Yeah, it's way more progressive than this place." Emma looked back at the bars separating her and Killian. "Can we open this?"
"What did Arthur say, Emma? What's going on?" Killian asked, as he glanced past her at the guards.
As briefly as she could, she told Killian about Marta and Kay's "evidence." When she explained her Morgan theory, Gawain nodded in agreement. "It's certainly sounds plausible. And I wouldn't put it past her. She hates Arthur. Using your presence to sow dissension in Camelot is exactly something she would do. I'm afraid you've made a powerful enemy, Emma."
"I'm not afraid of her," Emma said. "We just need to get this sorted and get Killian out of here. Merlin will be here soon, then we get out of this godforsaken place. No offense," Emma continued, seeing the look on Gawain's face.
"None taken," he said sadly. "I'm just sad that we have not been as welcoming as we should be. Merlin's loss and everything that's happened since...it's been hard. Our ideals are slowly being eroded. I guess I just didn't realize how bad it had become until now."
"Well, sod the king then," Killian said, clearly frustrated. "We don't need these people, Emma."
"Killian! I don't like this any more than you do, but unless you've had an epiphany about how to stop Gold we have to see Merlin. Guinevere says she has something that will get Arthur the proof he needs to let you out of there. You just need to sit tight."
"And we trust Guinevere now?"
Emma looked at him seriously. "Yeah, I do. She genuinely wants to help, I promise."
"How do you know?"
Emma glanced at Gawain; she didn't know how much he knew. She didn't want to make things awkward. "I'll explain later, once you're free. Trust me?"
"Of course, love."
Gawain came over, keys in hand. "Here, I can give you a few minutes. The guard's changing. I'll be just around the corner."
"Thanks, mate," Killian said gratefully.
Gawain half smiled. "Just remember we have a duel to finish someday."
Emma rolled her eyes. But as soon as the steel door swung open, she stepped through it and into Killian's arms. She held him tightly, relieved to be holding him again. The ache in her chest lessened and she felt like she could breathe again for the first time since Killian's arrest.
"I know, love," Killian whispered, stroking her back with his good hand. "I know."
Emma raised her head. "When you get out of here, I'm never letting you out of my sight again, you hear me?"
"Might be a bit hard, that."
"I don't care. If there's one thing this whole ordeal has proven it's that we're better together. It's only been a day and I can't...function. I've become that horrible cliché."
"You could never be a cliché, love," Killian said. "It's alright to need people, Emma. I need you too. I've nearly driven poor Gawain round the bend talking about you."
"I'm surprised you've managed to sit still this long honestly."
"If it were just me, love, I wouldn't have. Trust me, I could be out of here in a blink, if I wanted to."
"Broken out prison before, huh? Good thing I never tried to lock you up."
"Oh, I don't know, love. I think that could be a very enjoyable activity."
Emma felt a laugh bubble up in her chest. It felt good. "When all of this is over, we are taking a very long vacation. I'm all tapped out on adventures."
Killian's face turned serious. "I'm so sorry, Emma. This is all my fault."
"How do you figure?"
"My past keeps coming back to haunt us," he said. "First Rumplestiltskin with this spell, then Morgan. Now Kay hates me simply because I'm a pirate."
"Hey, I knew what I was getting into when I fell I love with you. What matters is who you are now. The past is just that: the past. Those other people holding grudges is not your fault. You trusting me to get you out of here the right way proves that."
"It goes against every instinct I have," he reminded her.
The corners of Emma's lips quirked up sympathetically. "I know. Mine too. I was locked up for something I didn't do too, remember? But we have responsibilities now. Our family is depending on us. We can't go back to Storybrooke empty handed, not with what's at stake."
"That knowledge is the only thing keeping me in here," Killian replied, kissing her forehead. "Being away from you is the worst kind of torture."
"Preaching to the choir, buddy, believe me," Emma said, gently stoking his cheekbone with her thumb. She leaned up and kissed him softly. Gradually, the kiss deepened, both of them reluctant to pull away. Killian's good hand tangled in her hair, holding her in place. Emma clutched at the lapels of the jacket he wore, keeping him as close to her as possible. It was almost embarrassing how much had had missed him, missed this. There was a time when it would have frightened her, but no longer. Her life had been so lonely, bland and colorless without him. She wasn't going back to that, not if she had anything to say about it. Vaguely, she heard a sound, but ignored it. She wasn't ready to go. Not yet.
"Emma," Gawain said quietly. "It's time."
Emma pulled back, resting her forehead on Killian's. "It'll be alright, love," he said softly. "I'll see you soon, yeah?"
Emma nodded, not really trusting herself to speak. Being with him again, then having it taken away – even for a little while – hurt. But she had to do this; she could. Killian trusted her, believed in her. She kissed him once more quickly, then tore herself away. Gawain closed the door behind her and locked it. Killian reached out and squeezed her hand once, his eyes full of love and confidence. Emma gave him a tight lipped smile then turned away, letting him go. It was time find Guinevere.
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Killian didn't know watching her walk away would hurt that much. It had taken all his strength to let her leave the cell. It took even more not to leave with her; strength Killian hadn't even known he possessed. He was so used to being selfish, worrying only about himself. But Emma was right; Killian had responsibilities now. People trusted him, relied on him. Emma, Henry, Snow, David. He had a family. It was something he hadn't thought he wanted, but now that he had it, he wasn't letting it go.
"If the Queen says she can help, then Emma is in good hands," Gawain said.
"You'll have to forgive me, if I remain a little skeptical, mate."
Gawain flinched. "We deserve that. It wasn't always like this."
Killian sat on his cot. "Sorry, Gawain. I didn't mean you."
"Is it hard?" Gawain asked. "Letting her leave like that?"
Killian sighed. "Harder than you can possibly imagine. Word of advice, mate. Don't fall in love."
Gawain looked at him, confused. "Why? You two seem happy together."
Killian smiled ruefully. "We are. I never thought I could be that happy again, not after..." he trailed off, reluctant to talk about Milah. "But it's also hard. There's a price."
"What's that?"
"If you'd ever been in love, you'd already know the answer to that."
"Humor me."
"The ones you love can be used against you. It's the reason we're even here at all. The Crocodile – Rumplestiltskin – threatened my life to get Emma to do what he wanted. I wasn't about to let her come here alone, so here we are. One part of my past collided with another part and now Emma is caught in the middle."
"Seems to me you're not giving Emma enough credit, Killian. Granted, I haven't known her long, but she's not one to give up easily. And she obviously loves you. You should have heard her confronting Arthur. She passionately came to your defense."
"She shouldn't have to," Killian argued.
"Would you do the same for her?"
"Aye," he said without hesitation.
"Then why do you question why she would for you?"
"Because I don't deserve her," he said, holding up his hookless arm.
"Life often gives us things we don't feel we've earned, good and bad. It's how you deal with that, that makes you who you are."
"What did you get?" Killian asked astutely.
Gawain smiled, and pulled at his knight's cloak. "Are you kidding? Arthur's trust. I'm the last person that should be a knight, yet here I stand."
"You acquitted yourself pretty well, I think," Killian said, thinking back to their interrupted duel.
"That's quite the compliment coming from you."
"I still would have beaten you."
"We'll see, Captain. One day, we'll see."
It was getting late; the shadows were getting darker in his cell. The lone barred window showed the last of the sun passing under the horizon. Gawain left earlier, needing to attend to some of his duties that had gotten neglected over the last couple of days. Killian missed him. The knight was good company, eager to listen. Since Killian was a champion storyteller, that worked well. And it had kept him from going completely daft while being separated from Emma. It was still agony, but a slightly more bearable agony.
But the longer he stayed in that cell, the angrier he got. Anger at Rumplestiltskin, anger at Morgan, anger at Kay, but mostly anger at himself. He hated that Emma was in the middle of this. He hated that she was risking herself for him. And he hated that he was too selfish to walk away. But he needed her too much. Killian had spent three hundred years angry, bitter and alone, living only for vengeance. Now he had something else to live for; it wasn't anything that he'd been looking for, but that was usually the way of things. He hadn't been looking for Milah either and he wouldn't have given up his time with her for anything. She – in a roundabout way – led him to Emma. In so many ways, looking at her was like looking in a mirror. Emma embodied everything he'd long since given up on – and some things he hadn't known he wanted. For some reason, she believed in him. He couldn't give in to his anger; Emma needed him to be stronger than that. Their family needed him to be stronger than that.
Eventually, he laid down on the cot, but sleep did not come. It couldn't, not with Emma so far away and doing hell knew what to get the proof that Arthur needed. He already spent the previous night concocting schemes to get out of his cell, useful if matters came to that. He really hoped it didn't. Killian didn't think his new friendship with Gawain would last if he and Emma had to cut their way out of the castle. And they still needed to talk to Merlin. If that barmy old man had the information they needed to stop Rumplestiltskin, then all this nonsense would at least be worth it. Now that Killian was certain that Emma wanted the same things he did, Killian was eager to get this over with so they could start their life together properly.
He was contemplating how to set up a proper wedding ceremony on the deck of the Jolly Roger when he heard voices. The poor sods who'd drawn night duty were arguing with a familiar voice. Killian sat up and peered into the darkness. A torch blazed forth and sure enough, Gawain was carrying it.
"Bloody hell, mate!" Killian said harshly, partially blinded by the light. "Watch where you're putting that!"
"I'm not your mate, pirate," Gawain said, putting a finger to his lips. Killian bit back his retort, suspecting that something was going on.
He came closer to the bars. "What?" he whispered.
"Emma found proof. It was Morgan. But Emma has reason to believe she's still in the castle. We came up with a plan to – what was it Emma called it? – smoke her out."
"Does this plan involve getting me out of this infernal cell?"
Gawain nodded, whispering the plan quickly. Killian was both impressed and proud. His Emma was a pirate as sure as he breathed.
Ten minutes later, Killian found himself being pushed roughly into the Great Hall by Gawain. To add to the effect, he stumbled, nearly loosing his balance. Warily, Killian straightened and walked the length of the hall, glancing around at the gathered spectators, many of them dressed for sleep. If Emma was right, Morgan was around somewhere. Killian had no doubt that the sorceress was there; much like her mentor Rumplestiltskin, Morgan loved to attend to her enemies personally. She had wanted to kill Killian herself before; she'd want to be there to witness his demise. But she could be anyone. There was no way to know until one of them got close enough to her; Emma and Killian's connection would take care of the rest.
Arthur sat on his throne in his nightclothes; he looked exhausted. If Killian wasn't so annoyed with the king, he could have felt sorry for him. He couldn't imagine the pressure Arthur was under. Next to him Guinevere sat regally in a gown of black brocade. They were surrounded by several of Camelot's knights – including Kay – and an anxious looking Emma. When he locked eyes with hers, Emma pushed her way past the human wall that separated them and threw her arms him, nearly sending them both to the floor in a heap.
"Easy, love," Killian murmured, waiting to return her embrace, but unable to due to his arms being tied behind his back. Gawain hadn't tied them too tight, but the charade needed to be maintained for a while longer.
"Everything's ready," she whispered, clutching him to her fiercely. Her desperation to get him free was not an act, he knew. But when she pulled back ever so slightly, her eyes were clear. No tears, no weeping. His brave, brave lass. Her anxiety was gone; she looked at him with such faith and love. It nearly staggered him. Gently, she stroked his cheek, smiling tightly as Killian felt something slip into his pocket. It was all he could do not to smile. Emma had returned his hook.
"As you can see, princess, the Captain is perfectly safe," Arthur drawled. He sounded tired, but Killian could see the spark of alertness in his eyes now. It seemed they were going to find out just how good of an actor the King of Camelot was.
Emma turned and faced Arthur. "Considering you can't even guard your possessions properly, you'll have to forgive my skepticism," she shot back.
To Arthur's right, Kay growled. Arthur laid a hand on the knight's arm. "Be at peace, brother," the king said. "This will be over soon enough."
"And just what this, my lord?" Killian said, sarcasm dripping. "I don't know where your sodding stone is."
"Liar." Kay took a step forward, hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Trust me, Kay, he's not lying," Emma said.
"I don't trust you, Princess, that's the rub," Kay continued, nodding at the other knights. As one, they moved off the dais and surrounded Emma and Killian. "You're a stranger here, a stranger from another land. And you've associated with this...filth," the knight spat. "A hot headed, untrustworthy pirate."
Killian glared daggers at Kay. "A pirate I may be, but I'm a hell of lot more trustworthy than you lot. We've been nothing but forthcoming and this is how we get treated. Bugger that."
Kay smiled cruelly. There was something familiar about it. "Ah, but have you really, pirate? I think not."
"What are you on about Kay?" Arthur asked. Kay didn't respond; he stepped through the surrounding knights and faced Emma. Killian got a very bad feeling; this wasn't what was supposed to happen. A bit of bluster, trotting out of witnesses and proof. Then when Morgan saw that she wouldn't get her prize, she would lash out and the game would be up. Killian looked around the room; the spectators stared at Kay avidly, waiting with baited breath. Killian saw Emma plant herself firmly between him and Kay; Guinevere rose from her seat, her eyes worried.
"Why don't you tell them, princess?" Kay drawled. The manic gleam in his eyes was all the warning they got. Kay raised his hand and shot a bolt at Emma. At the last second, she raised a shield and sent the bolt crashing into the ceiling. The whole castle shook with the force of it.
"She's a sorceress," Gawain breathed behind Killian.
Killian didn't have time for Gawain's gawking; he tugged his arms free and reached into his pocket for his hook. Quickly, he reattached it. "Of course she's bloody magical, you dolt," he said angrily, the situation going to hell around them. "She's True Love personified. Now are you gonna help me catch the crazy one or not?"
Gawain looked past Killian at Arthur; amid the chaos the king nodded, drawing his sword. Guinevere was at her feet, pulling something out from behind her throne. It was a sword – Killian's sword in point of fact. "Captain!" she called, tossing the sword expertly. He caught it by the hilt, grinning. He and Gawain stood back to back as the knights closed in on them. They all looked oddly blank, like they were not aware of what was going on.
"Morgan," Killian breathed. She'd done something to them. Arthur tried to call them off, to no avail. They refused to heed their king. "Looks like Morgan did something to your mates, Gawain," Killian called.
Gawain's face darkened. "Where is she?"
Killian looked around, suddenly filled with dread that he'd lost track of Emma and Morgan. He was supposed to protect her, damn it. Then he saw them. Morgan had dropped the Kay facade, dueling Emma as herself. Somehow they'd slipped through the circle of knights and were ducking around the pillars, magic flying in all directions. Emma seemed to be holding her own, but her jacket was torn and was blood at her hairline. Killian's anger flared at seeing Emma bleeding. He would make Morgan pay for daring to lay a finger on Emma.
As if reading his mind, Morgan locked gazes with him from across the room. She grinned wickedly and Killian could hear her voice in his head. Your turn will come, Captain, never fear. He growled and he saw Emma's eyes go wide. She'd heard Morgan too. But the sorceress gave no sign that she knew she'd been overheard. Instead, she called out to the zombie knights and ordered them to attack. Her eyes blazed and a bright orange light flashed at her throat. Could that be what she was using to control the knights?
Killian didn't get the chance to examine his theory; he and Gawain were inundated by the zombie horde. Blades clanged together and sprang apart with deadly accuracy. Killian had no idea who he was fighting, but it didn't matter. Whoever it was, it was clear that they were completely under Morgan's spell and unable to do anything but fight mindlessly.
"Lanvel," Gawain gritted out somewhere to Killian's left. "It's me, it's Gawain! Stop this!"
"Don't think that's gonna work, mate," Killian shouted, slashing his current opponent across the chest. The knight fell in a heap.
"Watch it, Killian!" Gawain shouted. "They're still knights of Camelot, whatever Morgan did to them."
"Are you daft?!" Killian screamed. "We don't have time to pussy foot around, you sod!" They were fighting for their lives – for Emma's life – and that wanker wanted Killian to be nice? Bugger that. He punched another knight in the face, sidestepping as the man went down.
"The Captain is right, Gawain," Arthur called. Killian nearly whirled around on surprise; he didn't know how the King had fought his way through to them. "This is not the time to be kind."
"But sire," Gawain protested.
"That's an order, Gawain," Arthur said grimly, fighting one of his own. Killian's respect for the King rose a thousandfold. Maybe he'd misjudged him. He didn't have time to dwell on that though; there were more knights coming all the time. Did Morgan have all of them under her spell? Killian wondered. "We can't keep this up forever, Captain," Arthur shouted.
"I know," Killian said grimly, trying to fight and look for Emma at the same time. They needed to get that broach away from Morgan. Then Killian could run his sword through the lady herself. One way or another, he was ending this. He heard Emma scream in fury behind him. Quickly, he slashed his opponent across the stomach and turned around. What he saw nearly frightened him to death.
Emma – heedless of the consequences – charged at Morgan, barreling into the sorceress shoulder first. Morgan, unprepared for Emma to physically attack her, grunted in shock and got lifted off her feet. Emma flipped her over and slammed Morgan onto the hard stone floor. The sorceress grunted in pain, then went slack. Emma kicked her in the gut for good measure, then looked up. Killian was moving before his brain registered the command. He ran for Emma, hacking and slashing his way through the remaining knights.
"The broach," he screamed at Emma. "Get the broach!" Emma looked confused for about half a second then she nodded. She bent over Morgan's still form and tore the broach from her throat. "Destroy it!"
Emma dropped the broach on the ground and stepped on it with all her might. Like glass, it shattered under her heel; a wave of magic was released from it, knocking Killian off his feet. He hit the ground hard; the wind flew out of his chest in a rush. Dazed, he struggled to sit up. Around him, the zombie knights collapsed; Morgan's control of them broken. Through it all, Killian had only one thought in his head: Get to Emma. Lungs burning with the effort, Killian forced himself up and looked around. He found Emma on the ground, gasping for breath. She clutched at her throat and Killian's blood ran cold. A vision of Emma tied to a tree with a vengeful, murderous Cora advancing on her swam across his eyes.
Morgan raised herself up on one elbow, her face contorted in fury. The same murderous glint that Cora had flashed in the sorceress' eyes. Morgan clenched her fist tighter and Emma's eyes watered as the lack of air and pain threatened to overwhelm her. From then on, the scene seemed to move in slow motion. Morgan rose to her feet and advanced on Emma.
"I may not be able to talk your heart, princess," she spat, "but I can still take your life."
Killian screamed and charged. Without looking, Morgan waved behind her, sending Killian sprawling. A fury he hadn't known he possessed filled him as he got to his feet once more. In his chest, he could feel Emma's heart start to weaken. She didn't have much time left. It faltered once, twice. Killian charged again. This time, Arthur and Gawain were beside him, swords drawn. Killian had lost his sword at some point, but it didn't matter. He would plunge his hook into Morgan's chest if it was the last thing he did. Morgan tried sending another wave of magic at them, but miraculously it seemed to bounce back on itself. Killian looked around and saw Guinevere holding what could only be the Stone of Giramphiel in her hand. It deflects magic, Killian thought vaguely.
Their path now clear, the king, the knight and the pirate charged at the sorceress. The beginnings of fear flickered in her eyes. But then she gave one final squeeze of her fist and Killian felt Emma's heart stop. It was like a whole had opened up in his chest and a cold block of ice had settled there. Wildly, his eyes went to Emma; she was motionless on the floor.
He saw red, screaming his throat raw in his rage. Killian ran faster, raising his hook when he got within striking distance. He didn't think – Emma was dead, he wasn't fast enough – he just yanked his hook down as hard as he could across Morgan's back. Thick red blood blossomed, soaking into the sorceress's gown. Killian tackled her to the ground intent on finishing the job. As he raised his hook one last time, a flash blinded him and he felt the swirl of magic whisk Morgan away. Sparks flew as his hook came into contact with the stone floor. Heedlessly, Killian continued to stab at the floor, his grief and rage uncontrollable. Emma was dead and it was all his fault. Morgan was after him, not her. Hot tears scalded down his cheeks, his vision a blur. Slowly, his arm came to stop as huge wracking sobs shook him. Emma was dead, oh gods, Emma's dead.
He felt something brush against his fingertips, but he shook it off angrily. He couldn't stand anyone touching him. Emma was dead. Didn't they know that? He didn't want comfort. All he wanted was to bury his hook deep into his own chest and end his torment. Right after he ended Morgan's miserable life. She was going to pay.
"Killian."
Gods, now his subconscious was playing a sick joke on him. It sounded like Emma. He knew he'd made a promise to her, to be better, to not let the darkness overwhelm him. But she was dead. Surely, she couldn't expect her death to go unavenged. But there it was again, that voice calling his name.
"Leave me be," he muttered. "Just leave me."
"Look at me, Killian," the voice croaked. Killian felt fingers tangle with his, but he ignored it. For one wild second, he imagined it was Emma's fingers twining with his. But no, he'd seen her die. He felt it. Killian raised his hook to his chest and pressed it against his own heart. The ruined tip scratched at his skin, making it bleed, but he didn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything.
"Damn stubborn pirate," the voice muttered, grabbing at his hook. "Would you open your damn eyes and look at me!"
Reluctantly, Killian opened his eyes. He blinked away his tears and tried to focus. Blonde hair filled his vision, sea green eyes locked with his. His breath flew out in a rush. "Emma?" he whispered.
Her lips quirked up and she nodded, wincing in pain. "Yeah, Killian, it's me. I promise."
He wanted to believe her; he did. But he'd been through this before. He'd had horrible waking visions of Milah as well. He couldn't trust that she was real; that she was alive. Emma reached out and brushed her hand over his heart. "Hey," she whispered, "if you don't believe your eyes, believe your heart. I'm right here."
Killian closed his eyes and focused. That's when he felt it. It was like two hearts beating in his chest, rather than one. The block of ice was gone and he could breathe. It was the most amazing thing he had ever felt. "Emma," he cried, reaching out blindly and crushing her against his chest. He rocked her slowly, inhaling her scent, tangling his fingers in her sweat soaked hair. Emma clutched at him just as much, wrapping her arms around and holding him tight, like he was going to disappear.
"I love you," he repeated over and over into her hair. "Gods, I love you so much."
"I know, Killian, I know," she whispered back. "I'm so sorry."
That got him to raise his head. "You have nothing to be sorry for, darling. I'm the one who's sorry. I wasn't fast enough."
"Would you stop? There wasn't anything you could have done. I'm fine now."
Killian shook his head. "You are not fine," he argued, brushing his fingertips across her throat.
"I've had worse."
"Now you sound like me," Killian said, smiling weakly.
"Well, you did say once that I'd make a hell of a pirate."
"This was not what I had in mind."
Emma smirked. "Then what did you have in mind?" she asked cheekily.
"When you're better, I'll show you."
Emma rolled her eyes. "I'm telling you, I'm fine."
"Does this count as fine?" he countered, touching her blood covered hairline.
Emma winced and hissed. "Ow." Then she glared at him. "I'm not the only one covered in blood, you know," she said, nodding at his chest.
"Touché, love."
A shadow loomed over them. "Are both of you alright?" Gawain asked worriedly.
"We're fine," Emma said hurriedly. Her cheeks flushed, embarrassed. Killian felt her pull away to stand; reluctantly, he followed her, wrapping his arm securely around her waist once they were upright. He was letting her go over his dead body.
Guinevere and Arthur came rushing up to them. "Thank goodness!" Guinevere cried. "I was afraid you had..."
"It'll take a lot more than that to get rid of me," Emma joked, but Killian could feel her leaning on him. She was exhausted. He brushed a kiss at her temple.
"Still, we should have the Court Physician look at you," Arthur said. "Both of you."
Emma shook her head. "No, you don't have to do that. We're fine, honest."
"Emma..." Gawain said.
Emma stopped him with a glare. Then she sighed. "Here, watch." She pushed away from Killian ever so slightly and raised her hand to his chest. Killian was about to protest – she was far too weak to be using her magic – but Emma was too fast. Her hand glowed and Killian felt the tingle of magic on his skin. When she pulled her hand away, the bloody scratches were gone; his skin perfect once more.
"Sweet merciful gods," Gawain breathed.
Emma shrugged. "It's not a big deal."
"Why didn't you tell us?" Arthur asked.
Killian spoke up. "No offense, your majesty, but we've learned the hard way about trusting complete strangers. Emma's magic is something precious and we thought it best not go to advertising it the masses. Not many people know back in our world either."
"But Morgan knew,"Arthur persisted.
"We had to blast our way out of her castle. What would you have had us do? Throw rocks at her?"
"It's certainly useful as a surprise tactic," Gawain said, impressed. "Not many could have stood against her like that, Emma."
Emma half smiled. "Thanks. I think."
"I'm sure you and Merlin will have much to discuss when he arrives," Arthur said. "I think I know why Caradoc was so keen on sending you to us, princess."
"Please, Arthur," Guinevere cut in. "Emma and the Captain are surely exhausted. It's been a terrible night for all of us. Let them rest."
"Very well, my love," Arthur said. "Gawain, see the princess and Captain to their chambers. Then return, so that we may continue sorting through the chaos. We still need to find Kay."
"Yes, sire."
Gawain led them out of the hall. Killian caught a glimpse of the carnage Morgan's attack had wrought. Many of the former zombie knights were sitting around disoriented, clearly having no memory of what had occurred. There were sheets covering several in one corner. Killian didn't know how many of those he was responsible for, but he couldn't bring himself to feel badly about it. Zombie or not, they had been trying to kill him. And it was Killian's philosophy that if someone tried to kill you, you tried to kill them right back, especially in the heat of battle.
"Hey, you okay?" Emma asked, as they passed through the door.
"Of course, my love," he replied. "I'm fine."
"That's not your fault," she said knowingly. "It's Morgan's."
"Emma, I've been a pirate for a very long time. This isn't the first time I've had to kill people in battle."
"I know."
They were silent the rest of the way to their room. Gawain wished them a good night and left. Killian leaned heavily against the door; Emma curled into his embrace. He kissed the crown of her head. "Please don't ever scare me like that again, love."
"It's not like I did it on purpose," she muttered.
"I know, I know," he said quietly, his arms tightening around her. "If you had really been..." he shook his head. "I don't know what I would have done. It felt so real. And it is not something I ever want to feel again."
"I'll second that."
Killian held her at arm's length. "Are you certain you're not hurt anywhere else?"
Emma raised a hand to his cheek. "Positive."
Killian shook his head. "Am I going to have to strip you to make sure? Because I will."
"Only if I get to strip you too."
"Emma, this is serious. You know you can't magic away your injuries. I need to tend them if they're there."
"What's the point of having magic if I can't use it on myself?" Emma complained.
"Maybe you should complain to someone about that."
"I thought I just did."
Killian smiled softly. "Now are you prepared to be honest with me, princess?"
Emma rolled her eyes. "Fine. My shoulder's a little tender."
"Was that so hard?" he asked, as he peeled her jacket and shirt off. Sure enough, Emma's shoulder was a bit bruised. He guided her over to the table and sat her in a chair. Then he pulled over the nearby water basin and soaked a washcloth. Gently, he washed the cut on her head. It looked worse than it was. When it was clean, he pressed a kiss there for good measure, remembering how she'd done the same for him back on the Jolly Roger. Then he busied himself with the dirt and dried sweat on her skin. Eventually, he knelt down and stripped off her boots and pants, so that she was clad only in her underthings. Once he was sure she was clean, Killian picked her up and took her to the bed. He laid her down gently. She reached for him, but he shook his head.
"I'll be right back, love," he whispered. He kissed her nose then turned away. He wanted to stoke the dying fire then clean himself up before his own exhaustion overwhelmed him. Those tasks completed, Killian sat on the edge of the bed and watched her. Emma's chest rose and fell steadily; her eyes were closed. He'd been so close to losing her; for those terrible few minutes, he thought he had lost her. What would have become of him then? Emma was his whole world, his True Love. How could he survive without her? Losing Milah had nearly destroyed him. He'd become little more than a hollow empty shell, absent of light and love. But Milah's light paled in comparison to Emma's. Morgan would pay for nearly robbing him of Emma. One day.
"Killian," Emma murmured. "Killian."
Killian brushed his hand down her arm. "Hush, love. I'm right here."
"I missed you."
Killian smiled. "Aye, love. I missed you too." Killian unscrewed his hook and laid it aside. Then he crawled into the bed, gathering Emma in his arms. Huddling under the blanket, she tangled their legs together, as if trying to get as close to him as she could. "Careful, love," he admonished. "You should sleep."
"So should you," she countered stubbornly.
Killian chuckled. "Fair enough. Let's both sleep, yeah?" Emma nodded against his chest. "I love you, Emma."
"I love you, Killian."
When Killian woke the next morning, Emma was already awake. She had her head propped up on one hand and stared at him intently. Killian scrubbed his hand over his face. "How long have you been awake, love?"
"Long enough."
Killian ran his hand over her shoulder; the bruise was already beginning to fade. "This looks better. How do you feel?"
Emma shrugged, her fingers twitching at her hip. "Alright, I suppose."
Killian raised his fingers to her throat, sliding them gently across her skin. "And this?"
"I can talk without it hurting, if that's what you're asking."
"Do you need anything?"
"Kiss me?"
Killian smirked. "I think I can do that." He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. He kept it light, not wanting to push her any further than she was ready to go. She'd been through hell the previous night; as long as he had her in his arms, he was content.
But Emma, it seemed, wanted more than just a simple kiss. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip, nipping at it lightly. Killian ran his hand along her arm, pressing closer to her. Emma ghosted her hand over his hip and pulled him even closer. Killian groaned into her mouth, opening to give her what she wanted. She tangled her tongue with his in increasing desperation. She touched him everywhere she could reach from this angle, sending streaks of fire along his skin. Gasping, Killian pulled back, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "Are you sure about this, love?"
"Do you not want to?" she asked, confused.
"Love, I always want you, do hear me? Always," he said firmly. "But not if it's not what you really need right now, yeah?"
Emma's eyes softened. "I almost died last night, Killian," she said and he winced, not wanting to recall those few minutes. "When I came to and saw you, it shattered my heart. You looked so broken, Killian. I hated that you had been forced to live through that. I can't even imagine what that was like. I hope I never have to. Right now, what I want is to celebrate the fact that we're still alive and together. I need you, Killian. Please."
"You are bloody amazing, my love," he said earnestly.
"So are you," she replied, leaning in to kiss him once more. This time he didn't stop her. Killian slid his hand into her hair and pulled her closer. Emma crawled on top of him, pressing her chest against his and threading her fingers through his hair. Killian groaned under her onslaught, needing more of her. He reached behind her and deftly flicked open her bra and started yanking it off. Emma rose up long enough to pull her arms through the loops and send it to the floor. Taking advantage of her distraction, Killian raised himself up on his forearms and latched on to one of Emma's sensitive nipples. He suckled it gently, lavishing it with attention with his lips and tongue. Emma grabbed the edge of the headboard to hold herself up, throwing her head back with a moan. Her free hand tangled in his hair as he switched from the right to the left.
"Oh god," Emma breathed, her hand holding him in place. Almost unconsciously, her hips started to rotate in his lap, brushing against his arousal, and her breath came in harsher pants. Her skin was nearly feverish to the touch and he was barely touching her. Killian pulled his mouth away and hauled her down to his lips, rolling them over so that he could reach more of her. He'd nearly lost her; a deep seated part of him needed to touch her, to reassure himself that she was real. Emma seemed to have the same need; her hands roamed all over, down his back, across his chest, over his backside and drawing his legs up. Killian left wet open mouthed kisses along her jaw and down her neck, taking the time to suck on her pulse point. He could feel her rapid, strong heartbeat beneath his tongue. There it was: undeniable proof that his Emma was alive, alive and in his arms. And so help him, she'd never leave the safety of his embrace ever, ever again.
"I love you," she whispered, holding onto him for dear life. "I love you so much."
Killian raised his head and stared into her eyes, the eyes that reminded him of the Neverland star and of the ocean he loved so much. There weren't enough words to fully ensconce what she meant to him, but gods help him, he would try. For her sake. "My beautiful, perfect Emma," he murmured. "There is no power in this realm or any other that will keep from you. Ever. I swear to you, my love."
Emma smiled up at him, tears welling in her eyes. Gently, she cupped his cheeks and pulled him down for a long, lingering kiss. "Please, Killian. I need you."
Killian kissed her again, stifling her cry as he slid inside her. He remained still for long seconds, savoring the feel of them together once more. Killian bit down on his lip, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. The thought that she had nearly been taken from him was unfathomable in that moment. This was how they were meant to be always. One heart, one body, one soul. True Love in every sense. Beneath him, Emma whimpered. Killian kissed her brow and started to move. Slow, torturous strokes designed to drive both of them to madness. Emma's nails dug into his shoulders as she clung to him; her long legs were wrapped securely around his waist. She begged, pleaded, but Killian paid her no heed. He wanted to make this last as long as he could. In desperation, Emma nipped at his earlobe, kneading the soft flesh between her teeth. A shot of desire ripped down his spine, jarring his rhythm.
"Minx," he growled. He changed the angle of his thrusts, driving into her with more force.
"Fuck!" Emma cried. "Please, just like that. Please."
"Is this what you want?" he asked harshly against her ear, thrusting hard with each word, hitting that spot that made her cry out in pleasure.
"Yes!"
Wordlessly, he heeded her demand. She pulled him down for a needy passionate kiss that left him breathless. He could feel her inner walls start to flutter around him. "Close, Killian," she breathed against his neck. "So close."
He was as well, but he wanted to drive her over the edge first. Killian snaked his good hand between them and touched that spot make her see stars. He'd barely touched it with pad of his thumb when Emma screamed as her release made her body shudder under him. He shouted his own hoarse cry as he followed her into oblivion. Spent and unable to hold himself up any longer, Killian collapsed on top of her, his head over her heart. He could feel the aftershocks of her orgasm and it made him shudder.
"Oh my god," Emma muttered.
"Yes?" Killian said against her sternum.
"If I could lift my arms, I'd hit you for that," Emma countered.
"I guess it's good you can't lift your arms then, love."
"You're one to talk, Captain."
"Aye," he acknowledged. "I don't ever want to move again."
"They're going to come for us eventually, you know."
"I'll just have to tell them to sod off. You're mine." With some feeling coming back into his limbs, Killian managed to roll off her. In an instant, the chill of the room swept across their sweat coated skin. Emma shivered and Killian pulled up the previously discarded blanket. Emma curled into his side and laid her head on his chest.
"Hm, that's nice," she said quietly.
"What is, love?"
"Your heartbeat. I can hear it."
"It's still got some mileage left on it, darling," he joked. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Don't," she said, raising her head. "It's not funny."
"Hey," he murmured, pulling her face toward him for a kiss. "It's alright, love. I understand. I was listening to yours as well."
Emma swallowed uncomfortably. "Could you feel it, when I..." she trailed off unable to finish the thought.
Killian looked at her seriously. "Aye. It was the worst feeling in the world. I felt cold, hollow. Then," he looked away. "I couldn't feel anything at all."
"Oh, Killian," she cried softly, hugging him to her. "I'm so sorry."
"I just want to lock you away, keep you safe and with me," he admitted quietly. "I don't ever want to feel like that again. I can't be without you, Emma. I can't."
"Shhhh," she soothed, kissing his brow. "I know. We'll be okay. One way or another, we'll be okay. I promise."
She said it with such conviction that Killian couldn't help but believe her. They'd come so far since they met all those months ago; two broken lonely people found love and companionship together, despite all the odds against them. They were formidable individuals, who made an even better team. The whole greater than the sum of its parts. "I love you, Emma."
"I love you, too, Killian."
Killian could feel his eyelids grow heavy again. He hoped that no one would come looking for them any time soon. The last thing he wanted was to leave the bed and face the world.
Killian must have nodded off, because the next thing he knew, there was a banging on their door. "Bloody hell!"
Emma raised her head, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. "What is it?"
"Hell if I know, love," he groused, as he got out of the bed and yanked on his trousers. He turned to see that Emma was properly covered before opening the door. It was Gawain. "This better be important, mate."
"Merlin's here, Killian. And he's asking for Emma."
