I feel like all I ever do is apologize with every chapter I put up *sad face* and for that, I'm truly sorry (once again). Work, work and work...That has been my life for several months. Blame them for not getting an update faster, not me!
Be prepared: this Chapter is loooooong, but good. So, bare with me. Part One is almost done :)
Lots of love and please, enjoy!
-FantasyWriterFoSho
Summary of the Previous Chapter: After winning the battle, a drained Emma steps in front of a magical rod, saving Hook's life...
…
Chapter Twenty One: A Selfless Sacrifice
...
"Swan," he repeated, lowering his voice to a more gentle timbre. Still trying to get her to look up at him, Hook cradled her broken form and called to her again, each word more harrowing than the last. "Swan, please...Please look at me..."
But she didn't.
She couldn't.
With her body beginning to shut down, Emma just bit at her bottom lip and found herself burying her head into his chest, an unconscious effort to muffle the inner screams that were clawing inside of her own. The hazy feeling she's had ever since she removed her heart—and regained her control from Zelena—was growing and pushing hard against her ribs, heightening the profound symptom of emptiness, which was soon accompanied by a pulling numbness. Surrounded by his warmth, she released a shuddering moan, not one of pleasure, but one of complete and utter pain.
This is it, she thought sadly, the realization of her actions truly hitting her. I'm dying...for real this time, and I'm leaving them. I'm leaving my family and, and...Oh God...
As if sensing that she needed more comfort, Hook tightened his hold on her before tenderly lulling his forehead down onto the top portion of her head, their connection turning his stomach into knots. Not again, he thought to himself as tears began to well up in his eyes. Softly rocking them both back and forth, he then released a gut-wrenching exhale before bringing his hand up, to cradle her neck. Not again, not her.
"EMMA?!"
The sound of her parents' simultaneous cry suddenly filled in the stillness that had surrounded the two—despite the loud evaporation of the thunderous and trapping mist. Within seconds, they were beside the enveloped pair—David had made his way to stand in front of them, his hands outstretched and ready to grab ahold of his daughter, if he was so inclined, while Mary Margaret had pivoted around Hook's back and carefully slumped down next to Emma's head, her eyes rooted on the limp figure in the young man's arms. Reaching out, the latter hovered her fingers around several of the blonde pieces of hair, that had spilt over Hook's bent elbow, before touching some of the strands; most of them were matted together with sweat and blood.
"Emma," Mary Margaret said, hoarsely, sobs beginning to rack her entire body. "My precious baby..."
"Hook," David then said, his voice resembling his wife's. "Is she, is she—"
"No," was his simple response. Clutching her fragile figure tighter, he slowly looked up at the distraught father before him. What he was feeling, which was nothing short of heartbreak, probably didn't even compare to what they were experiencing.
She was their daughter and he...he wasn't anything to her...and yet, here he was...holding her in her last moments. He thought about relinquishing her over to her parents, but he couldn't seem to let her go. In fact, he nestled closer to her.
Swallowing hard, David then dropped his arms and his body down to the ground, his knees thumping hard against the street floor, but he didn't care. His focus was completely on Emma, who was still curled up against Hook.
Just in the last few hours alone, they all had survived an array of emotions that no one should have to deal with, but now, things had taken a turn for the worse. One that was all too permanent.
"We have to do something," David continued hoarsely, his thoughts strangling him. He couldn't keep watching her struggle for her life anymore. It just tore his insides apart. "We have to stop this damn storm cloud of Zelena's! ...She needs to go to the hospital."
"How?" Hook asked, returning his attention back to Emma, who hadn't moved at all during their exchange. He didn't want to give up, but their alternatives were extremely short—if not depleted. Placing his head back onto her's, once again, he directed the next words to her, his breath warming her visible ear. "Please tell me how..."
Though he spoke in a mere whisper, it was loud enough for Mary Margaret to hear.
Fingers still tangled in her daughter's hair, the young mother flattened her hand against the latter's head, her palm gently creasing the blonde texture beneath it. Bowing her head, Mary Margaret closed her eyes and silently prayed, hoping against hope that they could somehow make it out of this, but it all seemed so...pointless...so absolutely pointless.
...
After settling her charges back down, it didn't take long for Regina to understand their new devastating circumstances. Eyes wide, she carefully wobbled her way over, her vision drinking in the now rocking Hook and limp, but still alive, Emma. Moving behind Mary Margaret, she hesitantly placed her right hand onto the other woman's shoulder.
Her mouth opened then closed as she tried to think of something to say—something that would prevent any more trauma or damage—but nothing appropriate came to mind. She was moments, if not seconds, away from losing her daughter and there really wasn't anything that Regina could do to make it better; not humanly or magically...
"Snow," she began quietly, shifting her attention onto a new concern. Her tone was one she had never used around Mary Margaret before, so, Regina didn't take it personally when the former flinched and slightly looked over her shoulder to see who was talking to her. Exhaling slowly, she continued. "You have to calm down. You have to think about your unborn child..."
"I, I can't..."
"You must," she replied quickly, knowing that minimizing the situation would only make it worse. Gradually lowering herself down, behind Mary Margaret, she tried not to stumble, or to hurt herself further—despite using their shared contact as her support system. After applying some pressure, Regina then moved her right hand over to the front side of Mary Margaret's other shoulder, gently skimming across the latter's collarbone in order to wrap her in a one-armed hug.
Ignoring the throbbing pinching sensation that was now spreading inside of her wound, Regina leaned her forehead against Mary Margaret's back and sighed, the familiar stings of grief beginning to overwhelm her as well. Despite their differences and, not to mention, their past history, there had always been some sort of a common ground between Emma and herself. It may not have stopped their sarcastic jabs at one another or their disagreements over Henry, etc., but it was there, and she was going to miss it.
"We'll make it through this," she then whispered softly, her tone cracking near the end of her statement. "I promise..."
Mary Margaret didn't respond, however. She just continued crying, her fingers shakily combing through the long, tangled tresses of Emma's hair. Bringing her other hand to her swollen stomach, she struggled to hold back the bile that was rising in her clogged throat. Please, no, she thought, brokenly. Don't take her away from me...not again...please. I can't loose her again...
David, on the other hand, had fallen into a state of shocked silence. He just couldn't seem to process, or understand, what was happening. From Emma's disappearance to now, fate just seemed hellbent on taking his daughter away from them. Kneeling in front of the swaying couple, his eyes bored into Emma's crumpled figure, allowing him to take in every available detail—every seize that her frail body was making while wrapped in Hook's arms.
She looked so...lifeless.
Hands trembling at his sides, he finally found the strength to speak. "Hook...is she, is Emma still..." He repeated, hesitantly, his mind choking on the words that were filling his throat.
Immediately stopping his gentle movements, in order to oblige the man's request, Hook unwillingly began pulling his head away from her's, instantly revealing his wet cheeks and reddened eyes. Breathing deeply, he then shifted his hold, from her neck, down to the spot beneath her chin, the tips of his fingers gently sweeping and caressing her smooth skin. It was faint and weak, but he managed to feel the slight drumming of her pulse beneath his calloused flesh. "Yes," he said hoarsely, the results prompting some tears to escape down his cheeks and onto her hair below. "Yes, she's still alive..."
He heard David sigh in momentary relief, but Hook swallowed hard and fully looked at the woman resting protectively in his arms. He had been so lost in his dark thoughts, and in the feel of her, that he couldn't think straight.
Brushing away some of the hair that was covering the side of her face, he then trailed his thumb down her profile, desperately wanting to see her eyes. Moving his hand to the back of her head, he slowly began to peel her away from his chest, in a mindful grip, causing Mary Margaret's hold to fall away.
There was some resistance, on her part, but in the end, he soon found herself staring into her expressive features.
She wasn't bitting her lower lip anymore, but her eyes were still open, which was a good sign; however, she was still clutching at her injury with a noticeable rigidness. Her pain absolute and relentless.
"Swan," he croaked, his soul slightly rejoicing when she met his gaze.
Unable to stifle the unbearable feeling that was consuming her entire being, she released a heavy groan in response. Now open and exposed to her surroundings, Emma felt absolutely helpless when she stared into Hook's pleading eyes. Missing the warmth and safety that his body provided, she quickly applied more pressure to her wound and tried to ignore the profound sense of emptiness that was still spiraling around inside of her.
Blinking slowly, she did her best to focus on the man before her, her time running on fumes. Barely feeling his touch—his thumb was now caressing the soft area beneath her ear—she attempted to talk to him, to try and make him understand why she couldn't let him die, but she couldn't. Everything inside of her was beginning to shut down. Permanently.
Wheezing, she leaned further into his hold and pushed through the pain, barely managing to mouth the words: I'm sorry, to him—her bottom lip quivering with untold emotions.
Tilting his head, his brows furrowed at her apology. "You're sorry...?" Immediately disagreeing, he inclined forward, bringing the tip of his nose to her's. "You have nothing to be sorry for, love. Nothing. It's us, or more appropriately, I, who should be apologizing to you, Swan." Pushing himself back, to give her some breathing room, he saw a degree of determination begin to light up her dimming features.
Yes, I do, she mouthed again, her breath squeezing between her teeth, causing her jaw to constrict and some of her words to stutter. I wasn't fair to you...Zelena told me that she gave you no...no choice. I'm s-sorry for what I s-said...and—
She then stopped, involuntarily interrupting herself when a sharp jolt thundered in her ribs, racking her entire body. Reacting to it by arching her back, Emma squeezed her eyes tightly closed and exhaled, releasing a chilling, gurgling sound. Her blood had already begun to clot in her veins, building and spreading till she would have no other option but to pay the ultimate price for her decision—a decision that she didn't necessarily regret; however, on the other end of that spectrum, when she was dead...her son would technically be an orphan; a thought that killed her more then Zelena's rod ever could.
As her limbs stiffened and a thick, sticky substance began to rise in her throat, she forced herself to find her voice.
"T-t-tell Henry," she unexpectedly rasped out, gaining the attention of everybody around her, their faces haunted and bleak. "T-tell Henry that I, that I-I'm s-s-sorry—"
"No," Hook interrupted, shaking his head, not wanting her to finish saying her goodbyes. Shifting, then moving, the arm that she was lying on, a little bit more up her back, he bit down on his tongue when she experienced another spasm. Holding onto her tighter, his pulse leapt painfully, when she tried to continue speaking. "Stop, love. You can tell him anything you wish when we get you some proper medical assistance. We're going to save you. You're going to make it. You're a tough lass..."
"H-Hook," she then said, sadness blanching her cheeks. "T-tell him I love h-him, p-p-please..."
"You're not dying," he interjected passionately. "I won't let you."
Emma tried to roll her eyes and to smile at his sentiment, but she was pretty sure that it would appear more like a wince, since she wasn't particularly in the mood to lighten her dire situation. She had always been efficient at running away from said moments—her speciality being the harder one's—but she couldn't run away from this...especially with how Hook was observing her, which only made her feel worse. The mixture of hope and despair that painted every corner of his face just broke her down further.
Desperately feeling the need to comfort him, she tried to free the arm that was pinned between her body and his chest, but her wrestling movements earned her nothing but another series of sharp jolts. A burning and ripping impression instantly crackled and danced through her veins, making it harder for her to maintain eye contact. Her lungs felt like they were on fire and the more she attempted to free herself, the more serious it became.
If she had thought that breathing was a difficult concept before, what with the battles and the power draining, she was sorely mistaken.
Suddenly dropping her mouth open, in agony, she panted, the air searing a scorching trail down her esophagus.
"Emma!" everybody then cried, each throwing themselves closer to her—in any conceivable way. David lunged forward and laid a hand on her available shoulder while Mary Margaret resumed her hair stroking, her face the picture of torment. Regina, who had been locked in an awkward embrace, quickly recovered by managing to scoot alongside her companion, her features flushed due to her own hardships.
Trying to hold her steady, Hook then tore his wide and desperate eyes away from Emma's face. "GOLD!" He roared, somehow able to glance around a startled David's head, in search for the one person who still had their magic and would most likely assist them. Given the current state of things, Hook had undoubtedly forgotten about him—granted, his former adversary wasn't occupying his thoughts anymore, now that he had renounced his revenge for the pursuit of love—but he needed him now more than ever.
Emma was now coughing and trembling uncontrollably; her hazel eyes masked under the strain of rapid blinking and running tears.
"Gold!" he repeated, straightening his back in order to see him better, silently praying that the crocodile wouldn't turn her away because of their turbulent past.
...
The older man was just about to finish the Wicked Witch off, for good, when he heard someone shout out his name and clearly—the dissipation of the crackling and encompassing cloud had completely escaped his notice, despite the fact that he had witnessed Zelena's collapse.
Turning around, his exhausted foe still reduced to her knees, he took in the scene that now rested before him, his neutral face transforming into one of surprise, then confusion, in seconds. He had been too distracted with Zelena to know what the others were doing, but as he gazed at them and took in their new situation, it didn't take him long to understand that things had become more complicated.
Knitting his brows together, Gold calmly made his way over to the small group, all the while thinking about how this could've happened to the Nolan's firstborn, but after he approached the vacant, right side of Hook and saw Emma's injury, he instantly remembered the hot bolt of energy that had shot past him during the fight. Originally, he believed it to be a misfire, but apparently, it wasn't.
A sinking sensation began gurgling in his stomach. Clever witch, he thought while observing the woman lying in the pirate's arms. She was making a deadly point...
"Now that both the mist and Zelena have been dealt with," David surmised, cutting into Rumple's thoughts. "Gold can heal her before we—"
"No," he replied back evenly, his response garnering him bewildered stares.
"What?" David questioned, his hand still on his daughter. "But Gold, you can heal her! You finished the witch off, so, now you're free to—"
"It's not that I don't want to," Gold clarified. "I can't..."
"You have to do something," Hook then pleaded, staring directly into the other man's eyes while everybody else looked away in puzzlement. "I know that we have a...complicated and long history, but...but please," he paused briefly, trying to control the waver in his voice. "Please, she's dying. You have to heal her! Or, at the very least, try!"
"Of the latter, I am quite sure of," Gold replied grimly, his sight falling onto Emma's bleeding chest. "Unfortunately, there's not much that I can do for Ms. Swan, I'm afraid. Her heart was pierced, well, the cavity where it should be, was severely damaged...and since it wasn't adequately protected, the price must be paid, dearies."
"What does that mean?" Mary Margaret asked, her voice worn and unrecognizable. Tired of seeing her hopes fade away before her eyes, she couldn't help the twinge of anger that burbled up inside of her. "Why can't anybody help her?! Well, well...if you can't magically heal her then we'll...we'll just have to, to take her to the hospital!"
Already expecting some kind of outburst, Gold had raised his hands up in order to continue his reasoning; tone mild. "I could easily transport her to the hospital, but there wouldn't be anything that they could do for her. This is a magical problem, therefore, it requires a magical solution and—"
"Of course," Regina then interjected, muttering her former mentor into silence. Removing her hold from Mary Margaret with a few shakes, and a grunt, she tried to stand up again. "Dammit, I forgot about that...about what Zelena had said..."
Glaring at her, Hook also felt his temper rising. "What the bloody hell did you forget?"
Regina opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, her older sister spoke first.
"Fools, all of you," Zelena commented, loudly, her red hair piling around her face. Still crouched on the ground, she threw her head back and met the eyes of Gold and Regina, the only two physically able to pay her any mind. Briefly licking her lips, she heaved a sigh and sat up straighter, her lower back and knees stinging in their new position. "I told you what would happen should she be attacked, how 'sensitive' that area would be without a heart. How you can cause a 'great amount of damage to the location' ...Does any of that ring some sort of bell? ...I forewarned everybody!" She then gave them a twisted, gleeful smile. "But then again, nobody ever takes me seriously."
Rolling his eyes, Hook groaned. "I swear if she monologues one more time, I will kill her personally..."
Laughing, as if she had heard his comment, Zelena managed to pull herself up to her full height with a spry bounce—despite all of the battles that she had fought in the last few minutes, she made it appear effortless. Lifting her hand high above her head, her residual magic stirred the air around her finger tips. "I have her heart, remember?!" she maniacally shouted. "That's what the evasive windbag and his inept student are alluding to!"
Pulling out said organ from her enchanted safe place, the glowing heart materialized in the witch's right hand with a sizzling pop, drawing those who weren't already looking at her—David, who was still blocking Emma from Zelena's view, had to physically shift himself around in order to see what was going on.
"She's a tough one, I'll give her that," the Wicked Witch smiled cruelly. "Most would've died by now. This endurance level, that she possesses, must fall under one of those complexities of being born a Product of True Love—as I stated previously—but there aren't any doubts that being the Savior must've helped her as well." She then paused to lick at her dry lips. "Still, such foolish bravery. Even if she didn't choose to save your life, Captain, she would've died anyway... "
Cradling the heart in her palm, she then cupped it and gave it a tight squeeze.
"AGGGH!" Emma immediately screamed. A fresh stabbing wave of pure agony tingled then jabbed across her chest, making her arch up and clench at her wound tighter. Hook moved his hand down to her now balled up fist and covered it, fear warming his eyes.
"STOP IT!" he then bellowed.
"You crazy bitch!" Regina followed, repeating her earlier sentiment while she still struggled to stand up.
"None of this would be happening if she had just followed my orders and left well enough alone," Zelena commented, a bit offhandedly, the insanity sinking deeper into the crevices of her mind. She then began tracing the pumping organ with the tip of her thumb, purposefully adding a tiny bit of pressure to it along the way. "So much for not risking anything on a rescue attempt. Well, as things go, I highly recommend you saying your goodbyes to your precious Emma within the next few minutes..."
Everybody's eyes widened. They all knew what she meant to do. As if hoping that he would somehow change his mind, they all turned their attentions back over to Gold, but he just shook his head. He had already informed them of their options.
There wasn't anything that anybody could do for her.
Their Savior, their daughter, their friend, their love...was dying.
"Emma," David then whispered, immediately returning his focus to her. Reaching out, he softly stroked her trembling cheek. Sparing a glance over at his wife, who was doing her best to remain strong, David continued, his throat burning. "We love you, Emma. We love you so much and...and...Henry," he took a moment, allowing some of his tears to fall down his cheeks. "We, we all promise to take good care of him."
"Yes, don't worry about him," Regina said, water filling her own eyes at the thought of Henry's future suffering. "Rest assured that he will want for nothing, Ms. Swan...Emma."
The blonde found the strength to smile weakly at their words, knowing, without looking, that they were telling her the truth. "T-thank y-you..."
Emma then turned her attention back to a quiet Hook. This was going to break him. She could tell just by looking at his face. She regretted many things in her life but, besides leaving her family, she was painfully aware of the guilt that was banging around inside of her. He loves her...and she shunned him, despite her own feelings. She knew that now—or she was just willing to admit it now—but it didn't matter. She was dying...and just when she was learning to accept her emotions...
Opening her mouth, she stared deeply into his blue, miserable eyes and stuttered out a string of words. "D-don't let this r-ruin your l-life, K-Killian...T-this was...my...c-choice..."
At the use of his Christian name, he released a breath that he didn't even know that he was holding. Shaking his head, his fingers pressed into her's. "No," he gritted, unwilling to let her go. Unwilling to let their story end before it could really begin. "Don't leave me..."
"I d-don't want t-to. I..." —but she couldn't finish what she wanted to say. The rest were lodged in her throat, threatening to remain unspoken. Gasping for air, she once again struggled with the arm that was pinned between Hook and herself. He didn't know what she was doing, but he, nonetheless, created a tiny gap for her by leaning his body back; his eyes never once moving from her's.
After finally tugging that limb free, she immediately extended what she could up to Hook's left cheek, gently rubbing away the wetness with several swipes of her fingers. Before she could hesitate, before she could even judge her thoughts, before she...died, Emma woodenly shifted her tips to the other side of his face and curled them around his neck, shakily pulling him down to her level. Understanding what she wanted from him, Hook swallowed hard before closing the distance and pressing his lips to her's, entering into a searing kiss that elicited a pair of moans from the both of them. Electricity sparked and twirled where they touched, causing their hold on one another to tighten.
Neither of them had enough energy to deepen the kiss into a passionate one. It was simple and sweet, however, it was also very powerful. It marked their last moment together and without any words exchanged, it spoke volumes; each participant wishing that they had more time with the other before it was too late.
I'm losing her, he thought. The notion unbearable. I'm losing my heart...
After giving her a final press, he pulled away, feeling a breeze wipe at the spot their tears had mingled against their cheeks. Face contorting, he closed his eyes and hovered his nose beside her's.
"I love you, Emma Swan," he whispered hoarsely. "I always have and I always will."
Wheezing and convulsing, she nodded softly before tilting her head back, bringing her lips near his. Straining, she reciprocated his affections by wordlessly murmuring an —I love you too— against his mouth, her breath coming out in piercing gasps while her hand, that still rested against his cheek, spastically caressed his chin in rutted motions.
"Aww, love at its finest," Zelena mocked, eyeing the scene in front of her before stumbling closer, her features transforming into something more deranged and sinister. "But the time is up."
Without allowing any further hesitations to occur—or giving them a chance to—she let out a malicious chuckle before immediately putting all of her strength into her fingers, each tip pressing harder and deeper into Emma's heart. Requiring more effort than normal, the organ struggled heavily against its inevitable, crushing death, which was unusual in of itself, but...under the continuous amount of pressure it was receiving to its exterior, it finally relented and began crumbling into a pile of ash atop the witch's palm; earning a savory sigh from Zelena.
It took seconds, but it lasted longer than any other did, in similar circumstances, and yet, despite that fact, there was nothing spectacular, or special, about how it ended in a collapsed, mountain of dust.
The moment of reduction, itself, appeared to be normal.
During the process, Emma had arched her back up in unparalleled discomfort, making her face inch up his, or until her mouth rested high on his inner check. Groaning, burbling and panting at the sensation that was now filling her chest, which only enhanced the tingling of her injury, Emma shuddered before moving her fingers down to grip the side of his neck. Dizzy, she began to fade away, her vision spotting, then blurring, before she ultimately fell into a sea of blackness; her eyelids fluttering shut upon a final sigh.
"No, no, no," Hook choked out, tears pouring freely from his eyes before he closed them. Nuzzling his head into the crook of her exposed neck, he felt her grow limp and lethargic in his arms. "No—"
"EMMA!" Mary Margaret then cried out, lunging herself forward till she was near the top portion of her daughter's body; her arms encasing the intertwining pair. David had reacted by also moving forward. Hugging his wife, his chin found a resting spot at the very top of her head, his grief rendering him speechless.
Regina, who was still dependent on Mary Margaret, lost her footing and fell hard onto her knees. A slight curse rumbled past her lips, but she ignored the jarring irritation and, once again, scooted forward; her bones sore from the repeated action. Once again finding herself behind the inconsolable mother, she bowed her head and said nothing, choosing to remain quiet.
Gold, on the other hand, did open his mouth to say something, but then decided against it. Considering that he couldn't do anything for them—or that he didn't even try to do anything—he had the feeling that remaining silent was his best option...and that was justifiable. So, looking at his clasped hands, he too said nothing.
Nobody did.
...
Bound a few paces behind the others, Glinda watched them with her sad lavender eyes.
In a way, she still felt responsible for everything that had happened since she last saw the Savior. Maybe if she did something differently, things wouldn't have gotten this bad. Blowing a wisp of hair from her face, she cleared her throat and shifted her uncomfortable, side-leaning position into a more reasonable one. Bringing her legs beneath her, she immediately felt better and, by doing so, she could tell that the draining effects were finally ebbing away.
Biting her lip, Glinda's thoughts were clouded. Many things were bobbing around inside of her head, but the strangest of them all happened to be of great importance: ...none of this was ever mentioned in the Scroll. One of its traits is listing out several alternative options, for an event or for a person, presenting an array of likely outcomes that are then weighed and measured, but this was never recorded.
It was never written that Emma Swan would die...
Frowning, Glinda searched for a way out of her ties, particularly the ones around her throat and face, but found herself distracted when a grumbling noise emerged from the man who laid beside her. Turning her attention over to the sprawled Robin, she noticed that he was coming to; his eyes tightened then slowly opened, as if he was just waking up from a deep slumber. He groaned, then rolled onto his back—every inch of him throbbing from the lack of use.
Blinking rapidly, Robin squinted over to his left, taking in Glinda's form before gradually pushing his arms back and tensing his muscles, adding what little pressure he could to brace himself up then forward—into a sitting position. Succeeding, he closed his eyes against the whirlwind of images that began threatening his vision.
"What happened?" He asked groggily, raising one hand up to his face so he could pinch at the bridge of his nose.
"Much," she responded quietly, trying not to disturb the mourning process in front of her.
"The witch? Is she defeated?" he asked, some of his memory returning back to him. Snapping his eyes open, he then glanced at Glinda's profile, still recovering from Zelena's attack. "Regina? Is she alright?"
"Hush," she answered, now gazing at him with a forlorn expression. Instantly taking notice of the confusion lighting his brows, she nodded then looked at the individuals that were still surrounding Emma, who was now residing in her parents' arms—Hook had finally surrendered her over to them in order to grieve separately. Her gesture drew his attention, but she continued speaking as if it hadn't, her tone a low whisper. "We lost Emma."
Hearing her, Robin's mouth fell open. He also didn't know what to say. He was beyond confused. He had failed on so many levels that seeing the remaining company sent a sobering and chilling shiver throughout his body. Folding his dull legs beneath him, he was in the midst of bowing his head, to pay his respects, when several cries interrupted his action, prompting him to pop back up in surprise.
Especially one in particular.
"MOM?!"
...
From the doorway of Granny's Diner, a group of curious and frightened people had emerged, chancing a peek beyond their haven to see what kind of havoc Zelena was now conjuring up, and in the very front of said group, stood a grim Red, a tear soaked Belle and a confused-looking Henry.
During what appeared to have been a mysterious and thunderous whirlwind, they were very nervous and completely terrified of what else would befall their town, and when it stopped, those feelings only heightened. It wasn't until they had heard some commotion outside that they knew that some of their friend's must've survived the onslaught...or just barely.
Despite being in the very back of the main room, Henry was the first to gather enough of his courage to walk over to the entrance, leaving the relaxed grasp of Granny, who was too stunned to stop him. He was soon followed closely by Belle and Red, both of whom hesitated before stepping up behind him, their faces slightly glowing when a sliver of sunlight fell upon them.
Silence consumed everything and it felt as if time was standing still, but it was within that moment that Henry saw it. There were two groups: one set was hunched over a person, a woman—he believed—while the other sat a couple feet away; two people, to be precise, who looked too wrapped up in their own circumstances to join the previously addressed fraction. He found himself furrowing his brows at the scene. The day felt like a bizarre, yet, familiar dream. The craziness, the chaotic nature of the town, and some of the people, have sparked something deep within his subconscious, especially in the last hour alone.
He never told his mom that. He meant to, but her "cases" prevented him from truly confiding in her, not to mention that she was now constantly lying to him about everything. Besides, he had the sinking suspicion that, on some level, she already knew. She was just protecting him from something—she would never do anything to intentionally hurt him—but enough was enough. He still needed to know what was happening...especially since he was now staring at some green woman, dressed in a witch's costume and baring a strong resemblance to a particular classical novel, but that wasn't the strange part...well, the strangest part...
In that same woman's hand, she held what appeared to be a clump of ash, which she was now tipping over, allowing some of the flecks of dust to tumble down to the ground. Moving his eyesight back to the hunched group, Henry felt an unknown and unsettling chill sweep up his spine. Even more confused, he descended the steps till he found himself walking the sidewalk and it was there that his puzzlement turned into utter heartbreak.
Eyes still glued to the scene before him, Henry had wedged his body between a couple of parked cars before stopping, not really creating that much of a distance from the Diner to where he was, presently. He then saw Killian cradle the limp, paling woman one more time before handing her over to a weeping David and an inconsolable Mary Margaret, who eagerly received her. Shuffling to his feet, the dark haired man first stumbled then slowly moved past Mr. Gold, his face crimson, somber and full of despair. He looked unbelievably lost and alone when he raised his hand to cover his mouth, his swollen eyes staring blindly in front of him before he chose to close them.
Returning his attention back over to the rest of them, Henry's gaze uncontrollably fell onto the person that they were all mourning and instantly, he felt the chill, from earlier, intensify, prickling goosebumps alongside his forearms and his entire neck. Before he could fully register anything: the warrior costume, the blood dripping from the woman's chest, the cries pouring out from every direction or the parental way in which Mary Margaret and David were holding her, Henry let out a bloodcurdling screech at the crumpled form of his mother.
Not thinking about anything, except Emma, he bolted, shooting down the street till he was standing inches away from her stationary form, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. Collapsing to the ground, his eyes widened as he glazed over her. He didn't know what to do or what to say, so, he just reached out a hand to touch her face, his fingers shaking when they brushed against her glossy skin, which was, shockingly, still warm. Unaware that tears had begun to fall from his eyes, he gasped in anguish and fought against the urge to scream out again.
He wanted to shake her awake, to question everything around him, to pull her away from the strangers holding her, but once again, he couldn't. Following Killian's example, Henry found himself covering his face, with his free hand, before dropping his already extended fingers down to his mother's unclenched ones, sobs now racking his body.
Unable to see her son in such pain, Regina bit her lip and gathered everything she had left into standing up and limping over to him, her sore knees buckling a couple of times before she gently plopped down beside him. Awkwardly resting on her rear, with her legs folded neatly beneath her, Regina hugged her bandaged right hand to her stomach before twisting her midsection slightly in order to place her left atop his fingers, which were still joined with Emma's. She had hesitated for a brief moment, but her need to comfort him was too hard for her to simply ignore.
Henry flinched, but he didn't stop her. He just continued to cry.
"This day certainly has had its bumps in the road," Zelena purred, favoring her left side when she moved forward, eager to see the distraught boy mourning his mother as well as her sister's uninvited and motherly tendencies. Her eyes were bright and extremely focused when she carried on, an upbeat lilt in her voice. "But now, it just keeps improving..."
Nobody responded. Their new situation outweighed the need to make any retorts; however, there was one person who was contemplating something else entirely. Still a few feet away from Emma's body and facing the opposite direction, Hook felt as if his heart had been ripped out and stomped on. He wished that he was dead, which was a terrible thing to desire, but it was the grim truth. Gloom leaked onto his shoulders while a numbing, empty sensation began fueling his lungs.
He hadn't felt this way before. He had never felt so alone. When Milah was murdered, he was sad, yes, desperately...but that quickly morphed into a confusing mixture of hatred, revenge and a dissembled devotion. Right now, with Emma's death, he just felt...hollow.
Everything hurt.
Flicking his void eyes up, he shifted a bit to his left and swept his vision over several vehicles before stopping, his attention doubling back and honing in on something in particular. Beneath a distant car, lay a sword...and from the looks of it, it appeared to be David's. At first, holding that knowledge meant absolutely nothing to him, but the more he tried to overlook it, the more he found himself mulling through his limited, yet possible, options.
For more than three hundred years, it had been in his nature to hunt, to prey on or to kill those weaker than himself, especially if they knew something that could further his bloodthirsty agenda—it wasn't a topic that he liked to discuss now that he was still reforming himself—and as the seconds passed, he could feel that familiarity begin to rise to the surface. His eyes darkened and he took a small step forward, moments away from surrendering into something that would potentially fill in his said hollow and empty spaces. But he was pulled out of his hazy fog by the one person he so desperately wanted to silence.
"Don't even think about it, Captain," Zelena warned, her voice still impossibly light. Knowing what he was planning on doing with his new captured interest, she smirked and shuffled some of the packed, magical ash that still lay on her palm, the motion taunting and playful. Tilting her head, she pouted her lips. "Though I would love to see you try, my pretty."
Blinking away the red splotches that had dotted his sight at the sound of her voice, he tried to quell the intense hatred prodding around in his gut. Snapping his head up at her, his glare hard and lethal, he could feel his fingers itch with adrenaline. There were so many things he wanted to do to her—bloody and gory things—but as much as he wanted to get even, as much as he wanted to cut her thin, little throat with his handy apparatus, he wanted to curl up in a ball and drown his sorrows in rum more.
So, instead of answering her or making any threats towards her person, he turned his focus back to the woman lying in Mary Margaret's arms and made his way over to her; his form silhouetting the pair when he stopped and stood behind Regina and Henry.
"Don't let this ruin your life, Killian"...
"This was my choice"...
Her words were already haunting him, making his decision to leave Zelena alive even more justifiable, but it still crushed him, especially when he realized that he was partly responsible for her death. She may not have wanted him to blame himself, but how could he not when it was his fault? Based off of his actions, or lack thereof, Zelena had pursued her, turned her into a mindless puppet and now...killed her—and that last part happened because Emma wanted to spare his life. So, really, when he thought about it, he was solely to blame for what had happened to her.
Frowning, several moments from his earlier drinking excursion with Robin began to plague him, already adding to his faltering sensibilities, and now, he was completely certain that he would never, ever be able to forgive himself...
It had only been a few minutes and he was barely holding himself together! Seconds after they had finally confessed their feelings towards one another, she was...gone. Just like that. Forever.
Bowing his suddenly heavy head, Hook turned inward, his thoughts and various memories of her consuming him, transforming him into a confusing pile of mush and nothingness.
"Well, I best be off," Zelena announced cheerfully, the lower parts of her dress twirling when she turned away from the scene. "Now that this mourning process has you all distracted, I can attend to the other half of my plans, which is somewhat of a shame...This is some quality entertainment."
Looking down at her raised hand, at what used to be Emma's fully functioning heart, she began walking away, but not before she allowed another remark to pass her lips. "Ta! The Queen of Oz needs to go back to reclaim her throne!"
"The hell you are," came a raw and ragged voice from behind her, making her stop in her tracks. Curious and intrigued, she spared a glance over her shoulder and met the raging eyes of David, who had stepped away from his wife and his daughter's body, his intentions clear. He was obviously spent, but he now had that determined and relentless air about him, a trait of his that was well-known, if not legendary. "You die where you stand!"
Rolling her eyes, Zelena giggled. "You are amusingly dense, Prince Charming. Apparently, you haven't been paying much attention to our recent activities." Leaning, then nodding her head, she gestured at the company behind him. "You've lost, dear! I am the victor. I have defeated the Evil Queen, the Southern Witch, the Dark One and, of course, the Savior." She then lifted the hand that held the pile of ash up higher—for evidence. "And...I did it with the majority of my faculties. As you can see, I'm not as drained as some of your pathetic companions."
Smirking at his darkening expression, she continued. "But I shall extend the same courtesy to you as I did to that pitiful, sulking pirate over there: I would love to see you try..."
The emphasis on the word "love" sent a stirring shudder up everybody's spines, but before David could even think of a suitable reply, Zelena had reset her position. Shifting her head till all of her was facing forward, she waited, intentionally pausing her already delayed schedule to see if he would actually accept her impractical challenge. She honestly wasn't in the mood to fight with another soul, she was weaker than she was allowing them to believe, but nobody needed to know that. Besides, the best way to get out of any sticky situation, was to be: clever, daring and overly confident—at least in her opinion it was.
Knowing that he was hesitating or thinking of another course of action, she scoffed and began walking away from the havoc she had wrought. She was about to unceremoniously drop Emma's ashes in the middle of the street, for a dramatic effect, but rethought her decision. She suspected that there could be some kind of magical properties buried deep within the unusually hefty specks, after all, the Savior was a special and unique person.
Maybe I can make another addition to my brew, she mused, shrewdly. Or use it for something else in the future?
Forgoing her usual method of teleporting—she was waiting till she could fully withstand its natural conditions—she picked up her pace, but not before making one final taunt to those in the street, wanting to leave them with something, more or less, memorable. "I didn't think so, Charming. Well, till next time, my pretties! And farewell old world! The dawn of a new era is finally upon you!"
Silence trailed the Wicked Witch's speech. The words sunk deeply into the ears of every individual she was leaving in her wake, but David had plans of his own.
Looking around himself, he desperately searched for something, anything that he could use against a receding Zelena. Suddenly remembering what had happened to his sword, he snapped his attention over to the same car that Hook had been eying moments ago and lunged for it, his greedy hands enclosing around the hilt while his knees crunched hard against the cement. Feeling nothing, he popped back up and sprinted towards the witch, closing in on her within seconds.
"You're dead!" He screeched, raising the weapon high above his head, when he was in swinging distance, desperately seeking to reward her with a deep slash to the back, but she was a lot faster than he was.
Nimbly avoiding the assault, Zelena sidestepped to her left and pivoted around, watching his empty hacking movement with an amused, yet apprehensive, twinkle in her eyes. Holding her free hand out, she flipped it, sending David flying into a car, the magical use causing her to issue a weary grunt.
"David!" Mary Margaret cried, a portion of her top half twisting around in order to see what was happening to her husband, her arms still cradling Emma. Conflicted, she exchanged looks between the two, the cloudiness and sadness transforming into an unforgiving resolve.
"Get her out of here!" David wheezed out to nobody in particular, knowing, and not liking, what his wife was thinking about. "Now!"
Taking that as an invitation, Red and Belle suddenly rushed out, the former weaving her way over to Mary Margaret while the latter established eye contact with Gold before moving over to Henry. Placing a firm hand on his shoulder, she pulled him out of his hellish abstraction and tried to tug him up, prompting Rumple to come to her aid. Positioning himself between his grandson and Regina, he helped them both up, which surprised his former pupil, who immediately struggled to reach her full height.
Mary Margaret fought against an insisting Red, who was doing her best to attend to her friend without further upsetting her—that, in of itself, proved to be a hard task to accomplish because while she didn't want to leave her husband, she was also refusing to let go of her daughter. Seeing through a departing Belle, Henry, Regina and Gold, Hook pulled forward and grabbed at Emma's unoccupied side.
Leveling his eyes to Mary Margaret's, he tried reasoning with her.
"We have to go, Your Majesty. I'll carry her to safety and then I'll come back to assist David, but first, we have to find shelter." She gave him a pleading look before looking up at a nodding Red. When she met his eyes again, he continued, but with more urgency. "Trust me, please."
She stared at him, her expression unreadable. Knowing that he was, somehow, thinking more clearly that she was, she then, slowly, relinquished her grip on her daughter and wobbled to her feet, her thighs and legs exhausted from her constant movements. She exhaled shakily and watched how gently Hook had taken Emma away from her, his jaws clenching with emotion when he focused his gaze onto her closed eyes. With a sob lodged in her throat, Mary Margaret helped Hook by first lifting, then folding, the closest of Emma's limp arms against her breastplate, a small cry escaping her at how inactive her daughter was.
Allowing Red's help with a quick look, Mary Margaret felt the other woman's arm encircle around her waist while the other gripped at her already extended right hand, her muscles tightening in order to properly steady her.
The four of them then headed back into the direction of the Diner, desperately trying to ignore the commotion that was happening behind them.
Glinda and Robin were also being attended to. All of the dwarves had quickly surrounded them, Leroy and three others tackled the disoriented archer while the rest were softly picking up the Southern Witch, who was in the midst of her recovery; her natural color was finally beginning to bloom against her cheeks.
"Don't worry, Ms. Glinda," one of them said. "We should be able to cut this rope with our axes. I believe that Granny has a couple of them stashed in one of her backrooms, for whatever reason..."
She widened her eyes, but softened her features with a smile, half appreciative of their willingness to help and half apprehensive about how they were going to do it.
When everybody, minus David and Zelena, had reached their destination, those who were injured were immediately, and delicately, placed into several of the booths—Glinda was actually stationed ontop of a table—before the door closed with a sharp thud. It was there that a surprised, but very relieved, Regina reunited with a smiling Robin, who reached over to clasp one of her hands into his; the constant pangs of her body disappearing in an instant.
"I knew that my girl could handle herself," he whispered, making her faintly blush and smile, which was a rare sight in the last hour, or so.
Partially blocking the entrance, Hook then ordered something large enough to lay Emma on, not wanting to set her down on the floor, and it was done briskly. Constructing it in the middle of the room, they gathered and stacked three of the loose tables, pushing and dragging the shorter edges together till it formed a bigger version. When it was finished, Hook quickly moved to the side closest to the booths and lowered Emma onto its marble surface, gently easing her head down, over his attachment, but only after he had already done so with her legs.
Slightly adjusting her billowing cape, he observed her serene face and inhaled sharply. From his bent angle, he would've sworn that she was sleeping, with her blonde hair sprawled out and her eyes gently closed, but her pallor and lack of breathing enhanced his reality with the excruciating truth that she wasn't. Throat unbearably dry, Hook then refolded her hands, softly placing them onto her stomach before topping them with his own. Ignoring the uncentered, drab necklace and the congealing wound, Hook leaned in closer and kissed her forehead, savoring the feel of her. Soon, I won't be able to touch her at all.
When he was done there, he then hovered down to her cheek and pressed his lips there too, the familiar welling sensation prickling at his eyes, once again. If only True Love's Kiss was an option, he miserably thought, slightly wishing that their situation was more like that of her parents' celebrated moment. He just desperately wanted to see her alive again. But it's too late.
Pulling away from her in the respected silence, their hands still joined, he breathed deeply before taking a step back, his vision sweeping over to the entrance, where the screams of David were now permeating through the stillness—making it that much harder on Mary Margaret's decision to leave him out there alone. The poor woman was now sitting next to a sympathetic Regina with her hands cupping her ears, tightly.
He wished there was more he could do for her. She looked like she was standing at the very tip of a plank; just waiting for somebody to push her off of it. Lowering his vision, he let his hand slowly fall away from Emma's, causing the unmonitored movement to thump down against his side. Frowning when he felt something poke into a part of his vest, he tilted his head and dug into the thick pocket, in question. When his fingers felt a familiar material, his eyes lit up with remembrance and he carefully pulled it out, the tiny satchel coming into view. He had placed it in there sometime ago and couldn't believe that he had forgotten such an important item, but given the current circumstances, he would probably be given some sort of reprieve. Knowing that it would greatly help Mary Margaret, he walked over to her and delicately placed it on the table, in front of her, but she didn't look up. She just sat there with one hand now rubbing at her stomach while the other still covered her eyes.
Regina, however, did and nodded her head. Silently telling him that she will point it out to her when she was ready, but not now. After copying her movement, in agreement, Hook then backed away and headed towards the door, about to commit to the promise that he had made to a distressed Mary Margaret. He had just extended his hand to the knob when he then heard an audible gasp pierce through the stillness, several steps behind him.
It was peculiar enough to make him stop and look over his shoulder, his features unreadable.
...
Glinda, who was in the process of being freed from her restraints by a diligent Tom and Leroy, had watched the tragic, yet romantic, exchange between Emma and Hook with a mournful expression. Guilt, once again, took ahold of her, especially when he moved away and granted her a full view of the deceased Savior...
...but that was when she saw it.
There, between her fingers, was a glimmer of light peeking through them. She wasn't sure what it was at first, the day's excursion still weighed on her shoulders, but she had a clue as what it could be.
Finally free from her bonds, she quickly issued her gratitude before scooting off the table, surprising herself, and a few others, at how fast she was able to do so after being restrained for such a long time. Making her way over to Emma, Glinda observed and touched her hands, her gaze intense with scrutiny before they widened. With her realization confirmed, a loud gasp pushed past her lips, disrupting the tangible silence and alerting the entire room to her activity.
Somehow, someway, the Northern Crystal had materialized from inside of the cloak pocket Emma had stashed it into earlier and was now lying beneath her stacked hands...and it was glowing.
It was a warm and subtle white light, one that may have been too muted for Hook's notice, but it was there.
Faint...but alive.
Touching her again, Glinda's face broke out into a watery smile.
That meant only one thing: Emma Swan wasn't dead.
She was reviving.
...
Whew! There it is!
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