Chapter 12

Emma was still sleeping in his quarters. They had a particularly late night last night and killian smiled at the memory. Smee was going on and on about something he very well could have cared less about. Something about Bae and the Dark One. Hook was growing impatient. Smee was suggesting that he'd lost sight of his revenge, which was utter nonsense. His plan may have gotten sidetracked, yes, but certainly not forgotten. He would seek it out in due time, but for now he was content, he was happy. For the first time in decades he didn't quite feel like he was drowning. So on this morning, he wanted nothing more than to bask in the sun shining down on him and fill himself with memories of Emma and their nights together. For once, he just wanted to pretend that his life was normal.

And Smee here was ruining it for him.

Finally, when he had enough, he turned to the squat, round man, shouting so loud that everyone on the ship turned to stare. "I'm the captain! I give the orders!" Seeing he had everyone's undivided attention, he moved across the ship, making sure his words were heard. "Anyone who disobeys can walk the plank and pray the mermaids take pity on his soul!"

"Face me villain."

Killian leaned back just in the nick of time. He felt the swoosh of the blade against his neck, startled that Bae had every intention to harm him. His crew gave cries of shouts but he held up a hand, silently telling them to stand down. Bae stood in front of him, eyes wide and desperate. For a moment, all he saw was Milah and Hook's heart sunk.

"What's this about Bae?" he asked, dropping his voice.

"I found this," Bae hissed at him, shoving a drawing of Milah into his face. Killian swallowed the lump in his throat. "On your desk…it's my mother. How'd you get it!?"

"Bae," Killian pleaded, lost for words.

"How!?" Bae swung again and Killian ducked

"You're the pirate that killed her!"

This time when Bae swung, Killian blocked it with his hook and sent the sword flying across the deck. Their sword lessons had been going quite well, but Bae was letting his emotions get the best of him and if Killian wasn't careful, he knew he would let his too.

"I didn't kill your mother. We fell in love. We ran off together. Your father lied to you. He was too much of a coward to tell you the truth. He tore her heart out and crushed it in front of me and I've spent every moment since then wanting revenge"

"She abandoned me?"

"Not a single day went past that your mother didn't regret leaving you Baelfire. We talked about going back when you were old enough. Perhaps fate brought us together so I can make good on those plans. We can live the life that Milah wanted for us... As a family."

"No! Stay back! You used me. You wanted to kill my father."

"Yes. I did."

Bae was crying now, which hurt much more than any wound. "You tore apart my family. As if you ripped her heart yourself."

"Bae don't."

"Take me back to my real family. The darkness."

Killian swallowed the lump in his throat. "I can't. It's not possible to leave Neverland. You can stay here under my protection."

"I know how to fend for myself. I want off this ship. Pirate."

-x-

Like him, Bae was a survivor. However, Hook knew the perils of Neverland better than most and if Baelfire was so determined to get off this ship, then so be it, but Hook would not assist him in this suicide mission. So that night he handed Bae over to Pan, not out of revenge or spite but because, at the very least, Hook knew Pan would keep Bae alive.

It didn't take Emma long to find out what had happened. To say she was mad was an understatement. She had shoved him so hard that he nearly toppled over the side. Then she was heading for the railing, mumbling something about getting off this bloody ship. He followed after her, hot on her heels. A storm was brewing in his heart. Until that moment, he hadn't been fully aware that a heart was capable of breaking along the very same fault line more than once.

"Emma," he pleaded. "It's of no use. It was Bae's choice. He wanted off the ship."

She refused to meet his gaze. "Was it his choice to go with Pan?"

He hesitated. "Look… just…just come inside and I'll explain."

But she wasn't hearing him. He watched her climb down the ladder and hop into the rowboat. Killian sighed, turning to Doyle. "Go with her and make sure she doesn't go too far inland."

"Aye," Doyle said.

Emma sighed with relief when she saw that Hook hadn't followed her. She didn't particularly have a plan. She only knew that she needed to get off that ship, away from him. The itch in her heart she had been avoiding was beginning to spill out. She needed out. It was only a matter of time before her walls shattered completely. She didn't need any of Hook's crew—himself included—witnessing her mental breakdown. The moment she stepped into the rowboat, everything seemed to hit her all at once. It swept her off her feet, it pinned her down and she choked on a sob.

Neal.

Hook.

It was all too much.

Too much.

She buried her head in her hands, willing away the tears because even alone, she didn't dare let herself cry. The part that troubled her most was that Hook hadn't been lying. He had told her the truth. Bae had left on his own free will, and while she knew Hook had a reason for handing Bae over to Pan, she couldn't let him explain. But wasn't that why people didn't ask questions—out of fear that they'd tell the truth? It would have been easier for her to erase his memories and leave this island if he had just stayed the heartless pirate he pretended to be.

The boat creaked, tearing her from her thoughts. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Doyle awkwardly shuffling himself into the boat before taking a seat across from her.

"Care if I join? I think a little fresh air could do us some good. Why don't I take us to shore?"

She wasn't stupid. Hook had clearly sent him in after her. She nodded, knowing all too well she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Though, of all the crew, she was thankful he had sent Doyle. She'd miss him the most when she left. In some strange way he was almost like the Grandfather she never had. She appreciated his genuine kindness, and she respected his wisdom and strength. She especially valued his uncanny ability to know the right thing to say and when to say nothing at all.

As Doyle rowed them to shore, she caught Hook's staring her down from deck. She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. It was too much. It was all too much.

"Don't dwell too much, sweetheart."

Emma didn't have it in her to converse, and Doyle respected her wishes. The time it took to reach the shore was spent in silence.

"Seems we have a visitor," Doyle told her, as they heaved the rowboat out of the waters.

Emma perked up, heart skipping a beat. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw who it was. Tinkerbell was sitting on the shore, running her hands through the sand. Emma plopped down next to her without a word. They sat in silence for an awfully longtime. Emma suspected she and the ex-fairy had a lot more in common than she originally thought. But when you walked the path of abandonment, you slowly began to recognize others who may have walked a similar path. After all, they all held the same look in their eyes.

Lost.

"I heard what happened," Tink said sadly. "I am sorry. Bae…he was a good kid. He'll be alright. I'll make sure of it."

"Thank you."

Tink turned her. "How'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You made the sun rise again. I can feel Pan's power weakening. You're the lost princess from the prophecy. Aren't you?" There was the tinniest hint of awe in her voice.

Emma vaguely remembered Hook telling her about some prophecy when he first brought her onto shore, though she couldn't remember the exact details. That felt like decades ago and perhaps it had been. Perhaps, she had spent centuries on the island and she'd return to some weird futuristic, Marty McFly version of Storybrooke. She didn't care about the prophecy, same way she didn't care if she truly had made the sun rise again. All she cared about now was getting home. Bae's abandonment seemed to snap her out of her haze. She couldn't stay here with Killian, nor could she bring him with her, no matter how much she wanted to.

"Snow White and Prince Charming are my parents," she admitted.

"I spoke to the White Fairy," Tink offered, ignoring her comment altogether. Emma held her breathe, surprised to find herself filling with dread, not hope. "She suspects she found a way to get you back."

Emma swallowed the lump in her throat. "When?"

"Tonight."

Tonight. The word was like a truck hitting her straight on. She glanced back at the ship. Her dispute with Hook suddenly seemed so small in the grand scheme of things. She knew that this day would come, that this thing between them couldn't last forever. When you had the option to live forever, time seemed irrelevant.

"You need to give him the potion, Emma," Tink said.

"How did you know?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"And how is the White Fairy going send me back exactly?" Emma settled with eventually.

"You're not going to like it."

Emma shrugged. She had dealt with worse, she imagined. "What do I have to do?"

"You need to die."

-x-

Emma waited to make her presence known, staying quietly in the shadows, door ajar. Hook stood at his desk, back to the door, staring at a piece of parchment clutched in his hand. There was no need to measure his sorrow, as it was plainly evident, even from a distance. If she would have included the forlorn sound of midnight tears from nightmares, Emma was surprised he hadn't broke down sooner. Her presence troubled him and she knew why. Even so, it didn't surprise her when Hook finally spoke, completely aware that she had been standing there all along.

"It's alright, Emma. You can come in."

Emma approached him cautiously with considerable care. "Are you okay?"

"Aye."

"I told you I'm good at knowing when people are lying to me."

He chuckled at her. "Did you now?"

"Yes," she whispered to him. Then she rested her head on his shoulder. He made no move to hide the parchment, something that surprised her. She wasn't really used to people opening up to her. She accepted it without question and peered over his shoulder to get a closer look. It was a drawing, she realized. A drawing of a beautiful woman with curly dark hair. "Milah," she acknowledged.

"Aye." Hook set the parchment back on his desk. Then he turned and pulled her into his arms. "Bae…he was Milah's son."

Finally, it dawned on her why Bae had left so abruptly. "You never told him?"

Hook sighed. "I'm afraid you'd think less of me if you knew the truth."

"Try me."

"I was going to use him to seek my revenge against the Dark One…but somewhere down the line…"

"You care for him."

Finally, Hook looked up to meet her gaze. She was surprised to find them welled up with tears. "Aye I do." Then he met her gaze once more. "And I think you do too."

Well, she couldn't deny that. Her hand subconsciously found the keychain Neal had given her all those years ago. How could she explain to him that Neal was a part of her in more ways than he would know? How could she explain that she loved Neal but that she wasn't in love with him?

"That's no secret," she told him quietly. She leaned back on his desk, sitting across from him, debating whether or not to ask the one question burning in the back of her mind. She needed to know that Hook didn't hand Bae over to Pan for the sake of his own gain. Yet she was afraid to ask because she was afraid the truth wasn't going to be what she wanted to hear. Emma forced herself to push that thought behind her. "I just don't get it. Why hand him over to the Lost Ones then?"

"Trust me, Emma. It's a far better fate for him that he goes Pan."

She searched his eyes for any sign of a lie. When she found none, she sank with relief. Killian was telling the truth. And now… now it was her turn. The White Fairy found a way to send me back, she wanted to tell him, yet the words would not come. The moment she admitted this, the moment she would lose him. And what then? Would it be possible for her to undo the effects of the potion when she returned to Storybrooke? Would she want to? Returning to the present for her would take minutes at most, and yet Killian had years, decades even, before their paths would cross again. Time was quite cruel in that way, in its ability to turn good men into villains.

"Killian…" Emma began, her voice pained with the truth she had yet to give him.

Hook cut her off. "I have dreams." Emma perked up, listening to him quietly. She was afraid that one misplaced breath would break their spell. They had always understood each other. This, though, she didn't quite know what to make of his anguish. "I dream of Liam dying in my arms. I dream of the Dark One tearing out Milah's heart. I dream of him coming to take Bae away, killing me slowly…I dream," he paused briefly before looking up her. "I dream of the Dark One crushing your heart, just like he did with Milah."

Emma looked away, refusing to let him see the tears in her eyes. "I understand."

Suddenly, he was up, directly in front of her. "No. You don't understand," he snapped at her. "You can't possibly understand. Everyone you ever cared about is back in this Storybrooke of yours, waiting for your return."

The sound of his voice grated on her raw nerves, and when she looked into his eyes, she could see the storm brewing behind them. Very gently, she reached up and brushed her fingertips over his cheek, then down his neck, then back up again to his hair. He leaned into her hand, relishing in the feeling of her skin against his.

"Is that what this is about? That I'm leaving you?" When he didn't answer her, she added, "Need I remind you that you are in Storyebrooke as well?"

He pressed her hand into his cheek, savoring in every bit of her. "Can't you see, Emma?"

"See what?" she asked anyway, despite the fact that she knew.

"I don't want to lose you."

It was amazing how the simplest of statements could send your world spinning. Emma found her eyes drifting back shut, desperately holding back the tears she refused to let fall. One escaped all the same, and Killian brushed it away with his thumb. He rested his forehead against hers, dropping his hand to play with the curl of her hair. Her mind was reeling with all the things she wished to tell him.

"Emma," he breathed out her name.

Emma.

Like he cared.

Emma.

"Emma," he said again, breaking her from her thoughts.

"I have to get back to my family. You know that, Killian," she began with some hesitation, though she was finding it incredibly difficult to find truth in her own words. "Our deal…"

He cut her off. "How many times have I told you, Swan? I won't be messing up this future of yours. I wouldn't dream of it."

Emma bit her lip before looking at him. "You're an idiot Killian Jones."

"You're beautiful Emma Swan."

Cradling her head between his hook and hand, he leaned down and kissed her. When they kissed, she seemed to ignite a fire in him, bringing up emotions he hadn't felt in a long time. Judging from the looks of it, he had the same effect on her. It didn't take much effort on either of their parts and the kiss grew deeper, hungrier. They were both aware of the little time they had left.

They fell on the bed in one clean swoop and his lips were on hers in an instant. Emma straddled him, pulling him as close as she physically could. When she breathed into him, she hadn't realized she had been drowning. When she touched him, she hadn't known how burning a touch could be. She hadn't known before how someone could leave a permanent scar on your heart, how you could love someone, so much that it almost hurt to breathe. Love wasn't the act of dying for them. No. It was the inability to live without them.

He clung right back, more than understanding of the desperation between them. He peeled off her clothes ,one fabric at time until she was bare. He kissed the tops of her breasts, used his fingers to tweak her nipples, which hardened in response at his touch. She arched into him, digging her hips to meet his most sensitive spot.

"Gods, Emma," he pleaded.

"Killian," she echoed him.

When he pulled away, he stared at her for a long moment, as if to memorize every feature, every imperfection that made her his Swan. He didn't love Emma because she was perfect. In fact, he loved her for all the reasons she wasn't, and the fact that she wasn't perfect made him love her even more. He loved every part of her, imperfections and all. When he couldn't stand the ache in his chest any longer, he pulled her back to him, hungry and desperate for more.

Killian rolled them so he was on top. He propped himself above her with his arms. Then he gave her one more passionate kiss as Emma widened her legs just enough to welcome him in, all of him in. They sighed at the sensation, as he slide into her. His hand trailed down her neck, across her breast and down to her hips to steady himself. He moved slowly at first, wanting to make this last as long as he physically could. Emma wrapped her legs around his hips and locked her ankles upon his lower back. The sudden movement drove him deeper and they both moaned in content.

"Killian," came Emma's voice, low and husky and desperate. "Please."

That was enough. He rocked his hips faster, harder, until they were both gasping for breath. She tightened around him and Killian knew she was close. But if this was their last, then he was going to make her remember. He brought his good hand between them to rub his fingers over the most sensitive part of her body. That was all it took. As she tumbled over the edge, Emma grabbed his head down and rasped out his name. He rode out her climax, coming undone along with her.

When it was over, she pillowed her head on his chest and his arms wrapped around her. They sat in silence for an awfully long time until eventually, Emma's voice caught in the back of her throat. It was a sound Killian knew all too well—a sound that people made when they were trying not to cry. He sat up and leaned over her to get a good look at her. Emma's hands shot to her face, refusing to show him her tears and he hated it.

"Emma? What's wrong?" he asked her, prying one hand away from her face.

God, she hated herself, crying like this, because Emma Swan did not cry. She quickly wiped them way, but his hand was against her cheek, wiping away her tears all the same.

"What is it, Emma?"

She was struggling, holding back tears. When she looked at him this time, she knew what she had to do. This wasn't fair to him and never once had been.

"The White Fairy… she found a way to get me home," she admitted.

Killian's heart fell. "When?"

"Tonight."

"Tonight?" he questioned her, doing his best to keep his voice steady, yet failing considerably.

"There's more." Then she showed him the green bottle that would make him forget. She decided long ago that she couldn't do this to him. She couldn't make him forget, for it wasn't her choice to make anymore.

He simply stared at it. "Is that…will that send you back?"

"No. It's supposed to make you forget."

The hurt that flashed across his eyes was all too real. Far worse than any physical damage she could have done. "You…you want me to forget?" He let go of her and pulled away.

"No. That's the problem. I don't want you to forget, but you have to. You have to forget all of this."

He kissed her. He kissed her with more passion than she could ever know. Her heart ached for him, for this moment, but it wasn't meant to be. They couldn't continue like this because she knew all too well that actions came with consequences. She gently pushed him away, only causing him to dive right back in. He was so close to her, forehead resting against her cheek, eyes darting with an intensity, a desperation she hadn't seen from him before.

"Killian. Stop. We have to stop this."

"Why? Why do we have to stop this? Why do I have to forget? Better yet, take me with you."

"You know I can't do that."

"You know this isn't about my revenge anymore," he pleaded with her. He clutched at her, as if she would very well disappear right then and there. "You know that don't you?" She shook her head, snapping her eyes shut. She couldn't look at him. "Emma. Look at me."

"No. Don't say it."

"Why not? Emma Swan, I lo-"

But she never let him finish that sentence. It was no secret that he loved her.

"Because this is going to mess everything up!" she shouted, cutting him off.

"But what if won't. What if this was meant to happen?"

That gave her a pause. When she had first met him he had been cocky and arrogant, but he had also been charming and understanding. Was it possible? Could he have known who she was when she first met him? She thought about what the White Fairy had told her before, that she couldn't have traveled back in time unless it was meant to happen. One memory in particular clawed at her though.

In the enchanted forest, Hook had locked her in the cell. She had pleaded with him, begged him even, yet he had called her dead, dried up, and useless. He had been so harsh with her, so incredibly rude that she couldn't understand why'd he do something like that if he had truly remembered who she was.

No.

It wasn't possible. Hook didn't know her before they met, she was sure of it. If he had, he may not have so desperately struck a deal with Cora to seek out his revenge against Rumpelstiltskin. They might never have met on the beanstalk, which meant they might not have defeated Cora at all. A domino effect, if you will. You couldn't have one without the other. If Hook remembered her, then it would set everything off course. Hell, she could very well run the risk of Henry never having been born. She couldn't let that happen.

She shook her head, fighting back tears. "No. You have to forget this. You have to forget me."

"I don't want to take the damn bloody potion. Can't you see, Emma? I don't want to forget."

Then he kissed her again and this time she did not resist. She gave into him and he pushed her back down onto the mattress. The green bottle fell from her grasp beside her and Hook replaced it with his good hand. She squeezed it and he did not let go.

They clutched at each other, each desperate for the other. They were both painfully aware that the time they had left together was running out. When he kissed her, everything around them fell away. He lost himself in that kiss, in her. In that moment, he knew and the space between them exploded.

He loved Emma Swan with all his being.

She was joy and bright and real.

He loved her and she was going to leave him.

Suddenly, he was desperate. That raw emotion—one that only came at the perils of love—clawed at his heart. Somehow, he couldn't seem to bring her close enough. Yes. He had loved before, but not like this. And yet when he pulled back, wanting and ready to profess his love for her, he saw the unmistakable truth: She was going to leave him. Not because she wanted to, but because she had to.

"I have to go back. My family, my son, they need me. I can't stay here," she told him.

Don't leave me, he wanted to scream. How could he ask that of her? To choose him over her son? When you loved someone, you put their needs before your own. When you truly loved someone, you let them go.

He rolled off her, staring up at the ceiling. After incredibly long moment of silence, he took her hand in his. "I know, love. I know." He rolled back to her and picked up the green bottle that laid between them. The magic of what it could do to him left a heavy weight on his heart. "I can't bear the thought of you hating me, Emma." There was so much emotion in his voice, she found a hard time meeting his gaze.

"No. I don't hate you. I've never hated you."

He stared at the green bottle, clutched in his hand. "If I take this… you have to promise me something. Promise you'll find a way to make me remember."

She let a single tear fall. "I promise."

The bottle seemed to weigh a ton in his hand. He tore off his necklace, suddenly heavy with emotion. He couldn't just let her leave here without taking a part of him with her. And if he couldn't tell her that he loved her, then perhaps, she would let him show her. As he expected, her eyes grew wide with panic, and he quickly caught her arm before she could flee from him.

"Calm down, Swan. I'm not proposing." She gave him a pointed look. He took her silence as a go ahead for him to continue. "You know I'm a survivor. This ring is why." He placed it in the palm of her hand. "I've had it for many years. It's the reason I'm alive… or could be. Who knows?" He was rambling now. "We both know I survive in this future of yours. I want to assure that you're in it too." Then because he couldn't help himself, he added, "At the very least, it's a reminder that you've got a piercing-eyed, smoldering pirate waiting for you to wake him from a curse."

She pulled him down for a kiss before he could finish the sentence. When they finally pulled away, he rested his head against hers and cupped her chin with his hand. Then he let his hand fall from her face. He put the necklace over her head. He found it curious that it rested perfectly against her heart. He picked up the bottle, a sickly green he couldn't imagine would taste good at all.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Emma, I'm scared," he admitted.

She clutched at his ring, his heart, afraid to let it go. The wait of his words mirrored her own internal pain. "Me too."

Hook popped off the cap of the bottle. Just as he brought the potion to his lips, the door burst open. Emma scrambled for the sheets, covering herself as quickly as she possibly could. Hook snapped the cap back on the bottle and moved in front Emma, doing his best to cover her from their unwelcoming intruder.

"Bloody hell, Smee! Get. Out!"

Realizing what he had walked in on, Smee grew several shades brighter than his red cap. He snapped his eyes shut but did not make any move to leave. "Oh my…Oh my. I'm sorry, Captain." Smee gave an awkward nod towards Emma. "Milady…I'm deeply sorry. I don't mean to barge in like this."

"GET OUT," Hook shouted.

If their talk hadn't been so sentimental before, Emma would have been in hysterics. Of all the times someone could have walked in on them, it just had to have been then. Killian had been so close to drinking that damn potion. She just hoped he wouldn't back out on his promise now. Hook let out a few colorful words when he realized that Smee was not going anywhere. So he threw his legs over the bed and pulled on his pants. Emma fell back onto the bed, covering her head with her hands.

"I'm sorry, Captain! But it's important!" Smee was stuttering and breathing quite hard, looking rather flustered.

"So help me, Smee, I will throw you off this bloody ship if you—"

Smee scrambled, but Hook was faster and managed to catch him by the scruff of his jacket. It took little effort on Hook's part to drag the small man across the room. Smee caught the door just as Hook was about to throw him out of his cabin, forcing his way back inside.

"It's Bae!" Smee finally shouted.

Hook paused, though he didn't release his hold on him. His eyes were dark, uncaring. "What about Bae?"

"It's the Dark One," Smee stuttered, choking on his own words. "He's here. He's here in Neverland. He's come for Bae."