A/N: Shorter chapter, apologies, but this is sort of the bridge/transition.
Every night gets harder for him to fall asleep, because every night he gets haunted by a very realistic looking Emma Swan. She visits him every night, and he wishes she could visit him for real in the morning. He sighs helplessly, hoping he could just fall in a blinding dream forever and drift away from this world. Yet, there's something in these dreams which give him some sensation of hope, desire, love, and most of all, patience.
Robin visits daily, giving him some hope as well. He's a good friend, and it turns out he's actually dating Regina Mills now.
Anyways, Killian's busy faking his sleep because the nurse that walks in always tends to flirt with him in some way, and he's already denied her so many times, it's becoming so redundant and tiring to deal with her. He'll just have to talk to the doctor about getting a switch with caregivers. The only person he wants is Emma, and he wants to see her, hear her voice, touch her, and so many other things, but she seems still stuck to a bed as well, unknown of her status since they haven't told him any of the details, both large and minor yet.
He's pushing himself each day, and the phantom pain returns a lot of the times he's trying to forget. It's just a constant reminder of 'oh look, you don't have a fucking hand anymore,' and it's a struggle he needs to overcome, but it only proves to be more difficult the harder he tries. There's only one person who can help him, but that person isn't here.
So, he secludes himself, brings his own walls up around his heart, and goes back to being the silent, stubborn arse who won't respond with much of an answer. They should be glad he even pays attention, they should be glad he at least nods or shakes his head. They shouldn't be glad that they have a total Douchebag McGee taking up a room in their precious hospital. He's purposely becoming someone else, and the only person who can change him isn't here.
Each night rips him apart harder, and it makes it difficult for him to let her go for even the slightest second. He can't slip away to anything before his mind goes to think about her, and how pale she could be, or how dead she could seem. He doesn't know any of this though, he doesn't know a single bloody thing about how she's faring, and he deserves to know, so he decides that it's time to push the doctor for answers, whether he likes it or not.
And the next morning, he really does go along and push for answers.
"When in the bloody world are you going to tell me how she's doing?" he inquires, keeping his gaze fixed on the man in front of him with a clipboard. "I need to know, please."
"She's fine. Still recovering, but I heard she's fine."
Killian sighs, shaking his head as the man examines his stump. "You heard, so you don't know?"
"Look, Mr. Jones, we're trying our best here. She's alive, and that's all you need to know. Right now, we'll keep you updated on your new prosthetic," he says, "and Miss Swan if you want."
He sighs, and it's because he feels relief. It's one less thing to really be worried about. She's alive, but just the state of her being alive? He's unsure about that, but he's rather happy he's gotten a bit of details. "That would be highly appreciated, thank you," he utters, glancing down at his arm. "Also, I would like for you to change the nurse who has been tending me for the past week."
"And why's that?"
He groans, rolling his eyes at the doctor's ignorance. "You should know why."
"Alright, well that will be arranged. I suppose I shall leave yo-"
"Killian?"
He blinks a couple of times, recognizing the voice. He glances over the doctor, and notices the familiar figure leaning against the doorway with the help of a nurse. "Emma," he breathes out, trying to find his breath beneath the excitement and relief.
"Sorry Doc, she couldn't stay down anymore and had insisted on coming to see Jones," the nurse explains, shrugging slightly.
"It's fine, sit her down and leave them to privacy. They deserve it I guess," the doctor mumbles, slipping past the nurse and leaving.
This time, he hopes it isn't a damn dream, because it feels real like usual, and he hopes it is real for once. His eyes are fixed on Emma the entire time, the nurse helping her into the seat before she curtly nods and leaves them in privacy in his hospital room.
He doesn't know where to start. "Hi."
"That's all you're going to fucking say after you nearly died in front of me?" she asks, the lilt in her voice showing a bit of anger. "Because I nearly died in front of you, and I couldn't even bear to think you were in this bed, probably angry and going mad because they don't even let you take one step out of this room before they barge in and make you go back to bed."
"You must firmly believe I am everything you have briefly described. I am angry, frustrated, and bloody hell woman, I've been dreaming of you every night!" He sighs, shaking his head in shame. "I wake up in tears because I'm only human enough to persuade myself that I'm okay during the day, but never during the night. I don't even know if this is real right now. I've asked for you several times, but the doc had dismissed the idea practically every time, and that led me to think you weren't doing well. For one moment, don't you dare put any blame on me for not being direct with you any sooner. If it had been my choice, I wouldn't have had to come with me, because that put both of our lives at risk.
"I wanted to call out for you when you fought Gold, but nothing came out. I wanted to reach out for you, but my body was frozen, as if the bloody devil took control over me. There were so many things bothering me then, love, and it pained me to see myself unable to enact on anything because my nerves were a mess."
"I assure you, I am very real at the moment." Emma glances down at her feet. "I would have went anyways, Jones. Also, to be honest, I didn't wake up until like two days ago. Turned out my wound was pretty bad, I lost a lot of blood, but they managed to make me recover enough." She laughs softly, taking his right hand in hers. "I just… I'm angry. I wish I could have have killed Gold earlier… He took your hand, I can't, I can't believe he did it, if I had escaped any sooner, I could have saved you."
He squeezes her hand gently, assuring her he'll be okay. "It was destined to be, Swan. I deserved it for the many of mistakes I've made. Perhaps my hand was a sacrifice, it was already a done deal by the time Gold had his man strain me against my own will." He winces, the phantom pain returning, but he shrugs it off. "It was me, being helpless on the floor unable to save you from Gold's attack."
"Sorry to break it to you buddy, but one hand probably wouldn't have accomplished much," she says. He cringes and looks back at his missing hand. "Bad timing for a hand joke, sorry. But, I think for both of us, it was meant to happen."
"Swan, do you still love me?" he asks, wondering if she still does. It's the hand giving him doubts about himself, and it shouldn't be doing that, but it is, and it's too late now to retract any of his words or intentions.
"Of course I do. Do you think I'd love you any less because you're missing a hand?" He doesn't answer her, and she sighs, squeezing his hand gently. "You lost your hand for me, and even if it wasn't for me, I'd still love you. No matter what, you're still a whole, a human, and a man who is vulnerable and has a weakness, no matter how much of a hardass you can appear to be." She leans forward and kisses his cheek, the feeling lingering there. "Don't hide away, Killian. Don't let the hand loss bring you down, because through all of this, I promise to be with you."
The words are familiar, as he recalls it's similar to the ones he's heard in his dreams. He closes his eyes and nods curtly, hoping that he's not dreaming all of this up again. When his eyes open wide, she still there, smiling gently. "Thank you," he mumbles, holding her hand tighter. "We'll be out of here soon. Once I get a clear for my new hand and all..." He hasn't mentioned it to her yet. "Uh, that's right... I'm getting a prosthetic, and I know it won't be nearly as good as my original hand was, but... I need it because I want to hold you with both my hands."
She nods and presses a short-lived kiss to his lips. "Thanks for being so considerate, but I love you with or without that hand. As long as it can make your life a bit easier, it's fine by me."
"That's the thing, lass. It makes my life easier, but not easy. Everything's going to be hard to getting used to. I fear I will be attending physical therapy for awhile until I gain full control over my new hand," he says softly, acknowledging his future. "Bloody hell, I'm going to have to attend therapy!" he complains, closing his eyes.
She laughs. "I'll accompany you if you'd like. If it makes it any better that is," she offers.
"You always make things better, love. It would be a great honour to have you as an accomplice through this entire process."
"Then that's settled." She yawns. "I should get back. I know there's a lot to talk about, but you weren't the only one having dreams. I've barely gotten like three hours of sleep, and I'm exhausted and can barely keep my eyes open," she says, rubbing her eyes.
And at that moment, he refuses to let her go. "Can you stay with me?" He scoots over a little in the bed, and she sighs, nodding. She climbs into the bed, and the familiar feeling of being home, and being happy returns. "Will you still be here when I wake up?" he asks softly.
"Yeah. I will."
/-/-/-/-/-/
The pain in her torso hasn't left since, but she acts perfectly fine because she needs to look strong. Be strong for him, even if it means faking a smile, or using their conversation as a distraction. After she woke up blinking in the light, she had to see Killian.
First time, the doctor completely denied the request. Second time, the doctor completely denied the request. Third time, well, rhetorical as it is.
It wasn't until the fourth where she demanded for it, and the nurse helped her.
Now she's in bed with him, a very cramped, tiny, single bed, but everything she feels once again is right. Home, because home isn't a place, at least not necessarily to her. As long as she can follow Killian, be with him, she's home. A thing she's never had, and now clings so dearly onto.
It doesn't take too long for her to fall asleep, because after all, her entire body demands for rest. Especially that wound that still feels as if it's fresh. And for the first night in two days, she gets a good sleep without any dreams. There isn't a ghost of Killian haunting her sleep, or even anything on her mind. She's just sleeping peacefully- disregarding hospital machine beeping- next to him, with him. If only this wasn't in the hospital, and back at the apartment, in a more spacious bed.
When Emma wakes up, she realizes it's only in the late afternoon. She glances over to the side, seeing Killian smiling at her. "Staring at me while I sleep?"
"Sorry, love. Had to make sure I wasn't dreaming this up again," he answers, leaning over to press a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you for staying, however. That helped me sleep, for I just woke up about five minutes earlier than you did."
She can feel the bubbling in her stomach, which is a good sign. She gives him a small smile. "Anything to make you feel better." She sighs. "Damn, I missed you so much. I didn't even know how long I was out."
"I can confirm that you woke up at least a week after the event."
A week? she thinks, trying to take that in. "You're serious?" They were not kidding when they said I lost a lot of blood.
"Aye."
"And you waited that entire week, hoping that I would wake up?"
"Aye." He chuckles, taking her hand in his. "For the record, Swan, it wasn't much of hoping you would wake up, I knew you would, I just hoped to know when."
"Sounds…"
He interrupts her, "Cheesy?"
"Pretty much." She laughs, and god does the pain return at the worst possible moment- thanks for ruining everything. "And shit, the pain's back," she mutters, closing her eyes.
Killian gently squeezes her hand, just a small action of assurance, love, care. Even that makes her heartbeat stutter because she'll never get over how she even deserves a man like him in her miserable life. "Why love, you're quite vulgar when you're in pain," he claims.
"Of fucking course," she mumbles, pushing her head back into the pillow, even though there's no where that pillow can go. "I'm afraid you're going to have to refrain from making any innuendos or jokes, otherwise you'll have to listen to me swear every five seconds until the wound goes away."
"You know me darling, I can't make any promises I can't keep, and that is one that I won't be able to keep," he whispers into her ear, causing him to grin. "Just tell me when to stop, and I shall heed to your very command."
"Deal," she mumbles, opening her eyes again to stare at the ceiling.
2 Weeks Later
Life could not get any worse. Well, perhaps it could, but shit's going down, and neither of them like the consequences that they're walking out of. For one, there's not much compensation for the fact he lost his hand- not that he was expecting any.
Though, about the entire reason and case, he's not exactly on the bright side of things. Gold's going to be sentenced to a lifetime in prison, which satisfies them both, except Killian. The police is slowly unraveling the entire case, and apparently that meant going through his apartment. Weapons were found, and fuck, good thing he cleared out most of his shit beforehand. They only managed to find a gun and some explosives that were untouched in the back. Not as bad as they'd expect it to be, but the thing is, he's still going to be convicted of stuff.
They've developed that Killian was working under Gold, hence the reason of his now-missing hand, and the armaments they found. It's inevitable, and though he wants to keep up up a strong façade, when Emma's not in his room, or she goes out to buy something, he breaks down because he doesn't want to go to jail. He can't just leave her like this, he can't but he needs to, because it's the law, and when the law speaks, it speaks and is enforced.
And when she rushes into the room, the one thing she does is comfort him as much as she can, but it proves pointless because the court date arrives starts nearing quickly. Which means he's going to end up in jail very soon, and he's mildly prepared- not prepared. There's not much hope, and there's nothing they can do to change the jury's mind, so he just waits for the day he gets sent to the one place he's always wished not to go to.
They're all sitting in the court, Killian staring down at the ground, unable to make any eye contact with anyone. His lawyer tries his best, but can't do much. He's sentenced to a minimum of 20 years, but then it gets reduced to 10 because he's already lost his hand, and because he was in a forced contract to work under Gold.
And that means he won't be getting out until he's 37.
Everyone is dismissed and the case is closed. Killian doesn't move, he stays seated with his jaw clenched, his hands turning into fists. Emma shakes his shoulder, and his lawyer apologizes that he couldn't do anything more.
All this anger inside of him, boiling, waiting at some point to be released and evaporated is killing him. He's trying his hardest to fight the urge to punch something or someone in the face, and honestly that's not turning out so well.
"Killian," she mumbles, sitting down next to him. "We gotta go."
"You mean I have to go," he mutters angrily, shaking his head. "Bloody hell Emma, I won't be out for ten years!"
"At least they lessened it," she says softly. "I know you don't find this fair, and I wish I could have been able to do something, but the case has been closed. It's too late… You know how much it pains me to see you have to go to prison for things you were forced into doing?" She rests her hand on his thigh, and somehow it makes him relax. "I'll make you this promise. Each month, I'll come visit you. We can talk about anything you want, as long as you behave yourself. How does that sound?"
He lets out a shaky breath and nods, letting his fists go. "I don't want this."
"Neither do I, but we don't have much of a choice, Killian."
And she's right, she's fucking right in all ways. At least they lessened it. At least it's not 20 years. At least she'll visit him.
But for 10 years, he won't get to kiss or hold Emma Swan, for 10 years he won't be able to wake up with her in his arms, for 10 years he's going to miss her growth. What if she moves on from him? What if she finds another man, gets married, has children, and forgets about him all together?
"Hey, Killian, look at me." She nudges his shoulder gently, and he swallows, hesitantly looking up at her. Emma's eyes are red. "Don't let this get you down. You never know if they'll let you out early. I'll wait for you, I promise you that too. Just please, please, don't get into any trouble at the prison because I don't want to wait any longer than what I need to because you decided to fuck yourself over my doing something extremely stupid."
"Okay." Before he knows it, he's crying too, because he can't lose her. "I'm going to miss you, Swan. There won't be a day that'll go by where I won't think of you."
She smiles sadly and takes him in for a hug. "Good."
He brushes his lips against hers softly, just so he can take in his last moment. His goodbye.
And the rest of that day, he loses touch with her the moment he steps into that horrible building. Keeping his head down, he stares blankly at the floor while he gets pushed forward and into jail. It doesn't take long for people to start picking on him, especially because of his prosthetic. After physical therapy, he's learned to get used to maneuvering the bloody contraption, and boy would he like to test it on some faces. But he practically promised Emma he wouldn't get into any trouble. Definitely not going to get into anything, especially on the first day. Not only would that be a bad impression to the guards, but also building a damned reputation in the horrible place.
Stench, dirt, hard beds, confined in a small space with a cell mate. In fact, his cell mate isn't actually that bad of a person. He keeps to himself, says 'Hi' sometimes, and that's about it. If only everyone would treat him that way. But prisoners aren't all nice, because some of them scream the real definition of 'murderer,' or 'robber.'
During dinner, he keeps to himself. It doesn't take long until some assholes decide to throw food at him, or gossip like fucking teenage girls behind his back. While they're outside, he talks to a couple of the nicer guys who aren't complete douchebags. They aren't strangers, but they aren't friends, just some people to speak to casually when he doesn't feel like being alone. And then, it's the return back to the cell for the rest of the night. He lays on the top bunk, staring at the dirty ceiling. He sighs and closes his eyes, trying to get some sleep, and of course, the rest of his sleep consists of Emma.
Nothing matters anymore, only the time that slowly passes does. He doesn't stress as often as she should, and he's only three months into his sentence. He learns and catches on quickly. This means having to join a gang, because he's seen what happens to outcasts. And although every day has a new change, or something different happens from the regular, his nights remain the same. He still dreams of her, her happiness, her laughter, her sorrow and pain. But, she's kept her promise of visiting him and that's the only bright side of his life
"Hey," she says, smiling. "How's it been?"
"Not too horrible. Everything goes by so slowly, love. I miss you," he responds, trying to keep a smile on his face. "What about you?"
She chuckles, shaking her head. "I guess it's been fine I guess. I got a job at least, but it's been stressing me out a lot. Balancing myself between three different obligations can be a lot harder than I thought."
"I see. What's your new job?"
"Bail bondsperson."
"Working for the law now, huh, Swan?" Kilian teases, letting a small smirk climb his face. "I bet you're a phenomenal bail bondsperson. I'm proud of you, love. You're doing the right thing, so I suppose a congratulations is in order, so congratulations." He feels his hands turn from warm to cold suddenly, clenching them into fists because he wants to break this divider between them.
"Thanks. Though wearing dresses and going on fake dates to chase after a guy who skipped bail is harder than you think."
He laughs, and she does too. God, how much he misses being with her each day. "Unfortunate that I can't see you in a stunning dress, Swan. We've yet to go on a proper date, and once I'm out of here, I'm taking you out on one, whether you like it or not. I know how to plan an evening out." He winks at her.
She sighs, nodding. "Sounds like jealousy. Funny. I look forward to it, though I really wonder how well you can plan a date. The last time we did a date, I beat you in your own game."
"You know how to chase down criminals, I know how to plan an evening out." He raises an eyebrow. "And, I was the one who taught you how to play darts, give me some of that credit, Swan."
Emma scoffs, a small smile dancing upon her lips. "Yeah, yeah." She turns her head to look at the man who approaches her. "Anyways, I think its time I get going. The guard is gonna punch me if I stay any longer than I should. Love you."
"And I, to you, Emma."
Watching her leave, he immediately frowns because he misses her way too much. The guard tugs on his shoulder, and he abides, but he glances over his shoulder just to see her out of his view. He sighs helplessly, being put back into his cell.
His cellmate, whose name is Lawrence, is quite a patient and attentive guy like Killian himself. They talk a lot, and they get along well. Perhaps fate which was on his side, decided to give him a kind cellmate, rather than a total asshole.
"Another visit from your lady friend?" Lawrence asks, sitting on the edge of his bed.
Killian curtly nods. "Aye."
"You love her a lot, don't you?"
"Very much so. We met on unusual circumstances, and we didn't get along well in the beginning, but time took it's place and changed us both."
He nods, there's a look in his eyes like he understands him almost. Weird though. "I see. I got a wife and kids too, ya know? Got convicted for drug dealing, which as you know, was a false charge in every way. Jury don't listen though."
"Jury takes evidence to make charges, not the truth," Killian exclaims, lying down on his bed.
"Now that, I can agree with." Lawrence sighs. "Complete and utter bullshit if you ask me. But, at least I'm stuck with a guy who's not a dick."
"Yeah, mate. I suppose we got lucky there."