Sorry for the long wait but life got in the way.

Blah dee blah not mine but yours to enjoy.

Killian was back, not exactly where everything had started, but where he felt everything had been set in motion, even if he hadn't known it at the time. Misthaven's port looked exactly the same as it had the year before. The same merchants peddling their wares, the same taverns each serving what they claimed was the best stew or ale to be found, the same people moving about their lives blissfully unaware that their Queen was far worse than they already suspected her to be.

"Can I get you another drink, sir? Or perhaps something else to whet your appetite?" The barmaid leaned over the table, batting her eyelashes at him as she used her arms to push her breasts together suggestively.

"Just the rum will do," he answered shortly.

"Well, let me know if anything changes," she said with a coquettish smile as she stood, grabbing his empty mug and sauntering back to the bar.

When she returned with his rum she tried to catch his attention once more but he sent her off with nothing more than a grunt of thanks and the instruction to keep his mug from emptying. Killian scanned the faces in the room with a scowl on his face. Since his arrival early that morning he hadn't dared to venture further than to the tavern he was currently ensconced in. He saw no point in taking even more unwarranted risks than he already was.

It had taken him over a week to reach the portside village. He had ridden nonstop from the palace of Regina's exile, forcing his mounts to near breaking point before exchanging them and continuing on. Having left the palace without any gold or provisions he'd continued to trade down, earning a few extra coin for choosing a lesser steed and exchanging quality tack and saddles until he arrived with an old, greying mare and nothing more than a frayed rope to guide her. What money he'd earned from her sale had gone straight into securing his room at the tavern with enough left over to keep him in rum and food for the time being.

Killian was exhausted. He had slept mostly in the saddle, only stopping once or twice to give into the need to sleep for more than an hour or two. His haste had not only been due to his need to reach Zelena before her spies alerted her to his whereabouts. It hadn't been long after he had left the palace that he had spied the first wanted poster with his face on it. They were still using his royal portrait with hair pulled back into a queue and a clean shaven face but he knew an observant villager would be able to discern who he was in a heartbeat. Time and suspicion of others had been working against him.

It was good fortune that his beard grew quickly. By the time he reached his destination his beard was full, a lighter brown than the hair on his head with a curious peppering of red and grey hairs alike. With the scar across his cheek, his wild, unkempt hair, and a beard that concealed the lower half of his face he was able to slip through the town unrecognized. Even when he sold the mare to a man as he stood smack dab next to his wanted poster he had been nothing more than an open palm seeking what gold he could. Yet, for all that, he had quickly gone to the inn he'd stayed at nearly a year previous and remained there.

He was two thirds of the way through his third mug of rum when he felt the point of a knife at the small of his back. He was armed, his sword was at his side, but he knew that any move he made toward it wouldn't end well for him. He was too deep into his cups and his movements had already been sluggish from his exhaustion to probably do nothing more than fumble with his sword before dropping it completely..

"Whatever you're looking for, mate, I'm afraid I don't have it. The last of my gold went towards this mug of rum in my hand. Which is unfortunate as the quality leaves much to be desired," he drawled, the spirits dangerously loosening his tongue.

"I've found what I'm looking for," the voice was too low and quiet for him to determine anything about its owner.

He set his mug carefully down on the table and placed his hands palms down on either side of it, "And what might that be?"

"Something you took from me. Now stand up," the knife dug into his back, urging him to follow orders.

Still he hesitated, "I believe you've mistaken me for someone else."

"Stand. Up. I won't tell you again"

With a quiet sigh Killian did as he was told. He knew it would be easier to convince whoever was behind him of their mistake if he complied and confronted them face to face.

His unknown accuser led him through the tavern by his elbow, knife moved to his side, and yet still behind him. They were shorter than him, but strong, judging by the painful grip on his elbow. Without any attention given to them they moved up to the second floor where the rooms for let were. He idly wondered how the person leading him had already discerned which room was his. As they entered it, him still in front, he was surprised to find it hadn't been ransacked by the person behind him, looking for whatever it was he was meant to have stolen.

He felt a light tug on his elbow as his accuser kicked the door shut behind them. The movement wasn't enough to dislodge their grip completely but it was enough to give Killian the leverage to wrench his arm out of their grasp and spin around to face them. Nothing could have prepared him for the shock of seeing Emma's face looking up at him angrily from underneath the hood of a roughspun woolen cloak.

"Emma?" He spoke barely above a whisper, his shock and disbelief at seeing her rendering him near speechless.

Of all scenarios and situations he'd thought about and dwelled on during his journey he had not allowed himself to think of Emma. Not consciously at least. He hadn't wanted to imagine her disappointment, her worry, and most of all her anger and the betrayal she must have felt at his leaving. However, when he was able to snatch a few precious moments of sleep her image was the only thing his tired mind would conjure up. Sometimes he would see her crying inconsolably and others her usually smiling face would be contorted with rage. The worst was of her lying dead at his feet, her heart crushed to dust by his own hand.

Killian had had that dream more often than the others, so much so that he had nearly convinced himself that it was more than just his guilt manifesting while he slept. It had to be a vision of either what had passed or what was yet to come. He had woken up after each one gasping, tears tracking their way down his cheeks, and his right hand clenched in a fist so tight it had ached for hours after. By the time he had reached the inn and secured his room he had taken one look at the bed and headed to the tavern below.

He had turned to rum in hopes of drowning out the images that haunted him and the thoughts that plagued him. Seeing Emma alive and whole before him filled him with a relief so profound he immediately pulled her into his arms, despite the fury etched on her face.

She was warm, if not stiff, in his arms. Killian could smell the days of travel on her: a mixture of her sweat, the horse she must have ridden upon, and dirt all layered upon each other. He knew he smelled no better, there had been little opportunity to bathe during his own journey and he hadn't even considered wiping the dust from the road from his face before seeking out his rum. None of it mattered when he could feel her breath puffing out against his neck and her heart beating steadily beneath his hands on her back.

With reluctance Killian released her and stepped back. Emma remained where she was, hands clenched into fists, eyes fixed resolutely on a point over his shoulder. Her hood had fallen down and he could see a few tendrils of her blonde hair that had fallen out of the queue that she had twisted it into. He desperately wanted to tuck them behind her ear, see her eyes soften in tenderness, but he knew she wouldn't be receptive. Not until he explained himself.

"Swan."

"You left," Emma said, her eyes as hard and unfeeling as pieces of jade.

Her voice was cold, detached. Killian had the feeling that if he had lifted his sword to try and deflect her words it would have shattered against the coldness of her tone. In all the time he'd known her he had never heard her sound so devoid of emotion. Suddenly a horrific thought occurred to him.

"Tell me something. Something only we would know," he said frantically.

"What?" Her icy facade slipped at his demand and a frown appeared.

He reached out and grabbed her by her upper arms in near desperation, "Please!"

She hesitated and his heart plummeted to his toes, then she peered closely into his eyes. He saw the instant she realized what he was asking and why as her eyes filled with melancholic understanding.

"I gave you that ring-" she nodded towards his left hand, "- and you asked me why I made it. I said it was to say thank you and then gave you a kiss. You said you were welcome and kissed me right back."

Killian loosened his grip and immediately crushed Emma to him in relief. He had never breathed a word of that first kiss he'd shared with her to anyone. Without a doubt he knew she would have kept it to herself as well. His relief was short lived, however, as it occurred to him that while Emma was not an imposter she would still be more than able to give him that answer without having possession of her heart.

"It's me, Killian," she murmured reassuringly in his ear. He shuddered in her arms and she held him tight against her, "I told you how I got the name Swan after Blackbeard stabbed you. I was dumb enough to think you were too drunk to figure out I was Misthaven's lost princess. I knew you were trouble when I sat down across from you by that abandoned inn in Tuiscint."

"That's not something I'd know for certain, love," he said as he let out a reluctant chuckle.

"No, but I thought you'd like to know anyway," she said warmly. When he pulled back her anger had vanished and was replaced with worry, "I still have my heart, too."

"How did you-"

"After your father and Thompson how could I not know what was going through your mind?" Emma said softly. Then her lips turned down into another frown, "At least you gave me a chance to figure it out this time instead of running immediately."

"I promise I wasn't running from you, Swan. I had to leave before-"

"Before what? Explaining what the hell happened with the Huntsman? Why you lied to Pinocchio? Why you didn't even think about how it would feel for me to be woken up by him and told that not only was the Huntsman dead but you had disappeared almost immediately after it happened? Do you have any idea what that looked like, Jones, because I had to spend too much time convincing people that you couldn't have murdered the Huntsman instead of tracking your ass down."

Emma's anger had been stoked once more. Killian knew he'd earned her tirade as he felt more than mere guilt settling on his shoulders. In his haste to leave the palace and beat Zelena at her own game he hadn't stopped to think about how the Huntsman's death might be misconstrued. He'd only told Pinocchio enough to allow him the chance to leave unobserved relying on the unmarked body and his word to be enough to convince the others in his absence.

He felt ashamed that he had violated not only Emma's trust but the trust of others as well. It didn't matter who or how many had accused him of killing the Huntsman. Leaving in the manner he had was tantamount to confessing guilty of the crime. In a way he was. If he hadn't questioned the Huntsman there was every chance he could still be alive and of better use than what Killian had gotten out of him before his death.

"Swan, Emma, I'm sorry," he sighed and hung his head. "I wasn't thinking."

"Obviously not," she snapped.

"But you have to understand that I felt there was no other choice," he plowed on hoping to make her see it how he had at the time. "Tommy lost his heart and I was none the wiser. He didn't have to die. Hewitt didn't have to die. Hell, even my father might still be alive if I had known that something was wrong with the one person I thought I knew better than myself. But I didn't and countless amounts of people have paid for my ignorance.

"Zelena spoke to me, through the Huntsman, before she killed him. She as good as told me there was a spy in the palace. I couldn't allow her to get the best of us, not again."

"And you figured by leaving at the first opportunity was the way to do it?" Emma asked incredulously. "Killian you practically announced your plan the minute we realized you were gone! If there was a spy at the palace they would have had no problem letting Zelena know you'd disappeared. We had everyone looking for you and then fighting about why you left. She has to know you'd show up at the palace eventually. She's probably just waiting for you to stroll in the front gate so she can take your heart and have one more weapon against me. Dammit, Killian, you should have at least talked to me."

"I know, Emma, and I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry I truly am but I couldn't tell you. I couldn't risk losing you too. Not after I've lost nearly everyone else."

Emma's expression quickly shifted from one of frustration and anger into awe tinged with something else he'd only seen fleetingly but with increased occurrence in the past weeks. She smiled at him, her eyes soft.

"You don't have to worry about me, Jones," her smile quirked crookedly for a moment before she sobered, looking at him unblinkingly, "Turns out I'm pretty good at surviving."

Killian stared at her dumbfounded before sweeping her into his arms and kissing her with everything he had. She responded with equal fervor, clutching at his back, her nails digging into his skin even through the cloth of his shirt.

They broke apart, breathing hard. Just as Killian was about to recapture Emma's lips his mouth opened widely in a jaw cracking yawn. Emma snorted in amusement and ducked her head into his shoulder, shaking with laughter.

"Apologies, Swan," he mumbled into her hair, embarrassed.

"When was the last time you slept, sailor?" she asked, still giggling.

"Erm-" Killian closed his eyes and then reopened them immediately when he felt his body sway, "-I can't say I remember, Swan. I believe it might have been the night before we stormed Regina's palace."

"Oh, Killian," Emma said brokenly as she tightened her arms around him. "Come on."

She stepped away from him and grabbed his hand, leading him the short distance to the bed. His exhaustion was so great he couldn't even muster the strength to make a quip about her being so forward. He dropped down onto the straw-stuffed mattress, the cheapest room available was all he could afford with the gold he'd gotten earlier that day, and sighed deeply.

"Where are you staying?" He mumbled tiredly as he toed off his boots.

Emma gave him a wry look, "Right here with you. I can't have you sneaking off on me again."

"Wouldn't dream of it, love," he said with a small grin as she pushed gently on his shoulder to get him to lie down. He grasped her hand in his tightly as she went to move away, "But truly? You'll stay?"

"Yes," she said softly. "Sleep. I'll be here the whole time."

"Good."

Killian closed his eyes, still grasping Emma's hand in his, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When he awoke he was aware of two things: the sun had the indecency of shining straight onto his face and he was alone.

"Emma?"

He sat up, blinking away the vestiges of sleep, as he surveyed the room. It looked as though nothing had changed, no small signs that anyone other than him had been there. Keeping his movements slow and purposeful, in order to stave off the panic that it had all been a dream, he bent to pull his boots on when the door opened.

"Oh, good, you're awake. I wasn't sure when you would be so I brought up some bread and cheese but if you want something else I can go get it."

Emma was smiling at him but he barely noticed it as he leapt from the bed and hugged her to him.

"Whoa there, Jones!" She yelped as she stumbled back from the force of his embrace. "I wasn't gone that long."

"Apologies, Swan," Killian said as he released her and stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. He looked at her mostly to assure himself that she was truly there, "You weren't here when I woke."

"I thought you'd sleep a little longer," she said with a small apologetic smile. "I was getting a little bored."

"Bored? How long was I asleep?"

He looked out the small window and noticed with a shock that the sun was long past its zenith, heading back down to the horizon. Looking back at Emma she bit her lip against another smile.

"It's been a couple of hours since the midday meal. You slept through the night and barely moved when I got up this morning. If it hadn't been for your snoring I would have been more worried something was wrong," she teased, but it was tinged with something like unease.

"But you were worried," Killian pointed out.

Emma sighed, "I kinda have some good reasons to be worried about you, Killian, and it's not like you aren't worried about me. Unless there's some other reason you've been greeting me like you thought you'd never see me again."

Killian let out a slow breath. While he'd had a dreamless sleep the nightmares of him holding her crushed heart still haunted him. For a moment he contemplated not telling her, seeing no need to worry her further, but then he realized that he didn't want her to think the worst by coming up with her own conclusions for his behavior.

"I haven't been sleeping as you well know," he paused waiting for her to interject but she only waited patiently for him to continue. "At first it was the ghosts at the palace and my guilt that kept me awake but I was still able to acheive an hour or two. Then when I left, when I ran, my nightmares changed into something truly terrible. You died, night after night, by my hand. It didn't take long for sleep to lose its appeal."

He gave her a careless shrug feeling anything but.

"After you moved out to that stupid tent with Will I didn't sleep well but I wasn't going to ask you to come back when I knew it upset you," Emma began. She took a deep breath before continuing, "When you left that's when my nightmares started. Sometimes it was my parents, or Red, or Pinocchio but mostly it was you leaving me behind, not looking back, forgetting me."

"Emma, I could live for centuries and never forget you," Killian held out his hand for her to take. As soon as she did he drew her towards him, "I may have been a complete ass for leaving but you were never far from my thoughts, love. Even when I tried not to think of you for my own sanity."

"I was sending you to the madhouse then?" Emma asked peering up at him with a teasing smile.

"Swan, if you're making jokes am I to assume that I'm at least partially forgiven?" He asked hopefully, squeezing her hand gently.

"Maybe," she said, screwing her face into mock sternness. "I also want you to eat something and tell me everything that happened with the Huntsman."

"Done," Killian agreed easily. "I'd like to know what happened after I left as well."

"Done," Emma said with a nod. She stepped back and wrinkled her nose, "First things first. You need to wash up, you smell like you've been living in a stable."

"That's not that far from the truth," he said with a chuckle. He sniffed himself delicately, "I'm surprised you saw fit to sleep beside me last night."

"I've smelled worse," she joked. Then she shrugged and looked at him sincerely, "I didn't want to spend one more night alone."

Killian nearly rocked back on his heels at her soft confession. He ducked his head and pressed a light kiss to her lips.

"Then I'll endeavor to ensure that won't happen while I live and breath, love."

Emma gave him a radiant smile before wrinkling her nose again and practically shoving him towards the door. He went reluctantly, his own smile wide and free, feeling far more like himself than he had since Thompson's death.

After his cold, yet refreshing, wash he returned to the room and did as Emma asked. She watched him eat and listened to him not quite ramble about what had happened with the Huntsman and the conclusions he had drawn from their conversation and his subsequent one with Zelena. When he had told her everything he continued and spoke of his time on the road: the loneliness, the need to push himself to his limits, the thoughts that had plagued him and the dreams that had haunted him. He told her everything.

In return she picked at his crumbs and told him of everything that had transpired after his disappearance.

It had taken only a half an hour for them to realize something was off. When Emma hadn't joined the others right away Pinocchio had been the one to wake her and tell her the basics of what he'd known. They'd done a perfunctory search for him but knew he'd absconded completely. Much to Emma's annoyance, which she relayed to Killian by glaring at him as she spoke, it had taken three days for them to agree on a course of action.

Will and Little John had returned to Sherwood Forest to let their people know of the fight that would ensue and to give them the choice to join them or move into the palace. Red and Granny had chosen to travel along the northern route of Misthaven's borders to try and recruit others to join their cause. Robin had remained behind with the rest to act as a guard to Regina and the other prisoners and as a point of contact for the others that had scattered to all points of the compass.

As for Emma and Pinocchio they had left as soon as possible to follow what trail remained of Killian's flight from the palace. Unfortunately due to the days that had passed they hadn't gone far before they had lost any sign of him. Emma and Pinocchio had parted ways at a crossroads, Pinocchio choosing his path by logic and Emma by feeling. She had ridden nearly as hard as Killian had once she was on her own, spurring herself and her mount on with magic. It was only through that and clever shortcuts she'd learned when she was first on the run that she had arrived in the port town half a day after Killian had.

"You covered a three day's lead with magic and shortcuts?" Killian asked disbelieving.

"You stuck to the main roads," Emma said smugly. "There are plenty of hunter's paths and little known trails between villages that worked to my advantage. Once I was sure where you were headed it was easy to navigate a faster route."

"A horse isn't a ship love," Killian said amused and slightly awed. "How did you know where to find me?"

"Just a feeling," she said with a self conscious shrug. "Pinocchio thought you'd head straight to the castle but I knew no matter how stupid you were behaving you wouldn't be that suicidal. I almost went with him anyway but just looking down that road felt wrong. When I faced the one leading here it was like you had just dipped past the horizon, that if I hurried I'd see you cresting the next hill. I couldn't ignore it."

"I'm glad you didn't, love."

She finished her tale quickly. In his exhaustion he hadn't been as careful as he'd thought and Emma had been able to find where he had holed up easily. The man who'd Killian had sold his horse to had been boasting in another tavern about the man he'd swindled and after a thinly veiled threat from Emma had told her where he'd seen Killian heading towards. She also managed to swipe the man's purse, telling Killian with a smile it was payback for the poor deal he'd gotten.

To Killian's dismay he had begun to yawn even as his attention was fully captured by Emma's tale. It seemed that even with his long rest the night before his body was still working with low reserves. Emma had given him a bemused smile every time he yawned and when she finished her story merely pushed him down to lay on the bed, combing her fingers through his hair even as he protested through heavy eyelids. The last thing he remembered before succumbing to sleep was her quiet reassurance that she'd still be there when he woke.

The next two days passed in similar fashion. Killian or Emma told the other what they hadn't that first day: tiny details that might prove important, observations from their travels of the villages they'd passed through, the few people that had talked to, and ever more ludicrous ideas on how to take down Zelena without losing their hearts or their lives. Sometimes they went down to the tavern but more often they took their meals in their room, the gold Emma had nicked from the horse buyer more than enough to cover the expense. Then as night began its crawl towards dawn they would curl around each other in the bed, resigned to yet another fruitless day of planning absolutely nothing.

As much as having Emma back with him had assuaged some of his worry Killian still could not help feeling as though they were merely in the eye of the storm. He knew that Zelena had not been making idle threats. Whatever she had planned would transpire before they had their own solid plan in place, no matter how many allies they drummed up or time they foolishly thought they had.

At the end of their third day together he suggested that they go to the castle and confront Zelena once and for all.

"Killian, stop, think about it. We can't just storm in there and hope for the best! We need to be smarter than that!"

"We can't just sit around and think that a perfect opportunity will just fall in our laps either, Swan! Zelena has no idea when we're going to strike. Even if she knew either one of us were here we've been holed up in this room long enough for her to send someone to kill us on the spot. She hasn't, which means we have a chance!"

"Are you insane? That's some of the most idiotic logic I think I've ever heard! We might as well march through the front gates with trumpets blaring and bloody banners waving!"

"Bloody banners?" Killian felt his lips twitch despite his irritation. "I do believe you've been spending too much time with me, love."

"Dammit, Killian," Emma huffed but he could see her biting back a smile of her own. "This is serious."

"Aye, it is, Swan, but you have to admit I have a point," he pushed gently.

"Of course you have a point," she said throwing up her hands. "I'm sorry if I don't feel like walking straight into our deaths right now."

"It would be less of a straight walk than a serpentine crawl through a back door," Killian grabbed her hands. He ducked his head to look at her straight on, "We've had days, months really, to come up with a better plan. This may be our best shot."

"What if it's our only one?" She murmured back. "We could lose everything if we don't do things right."

"We'll lose everything if we don't even try."

Emma sighed deeply and tipped her forehead to rest gently on his. He knew in that moment that she would go along with his insane skeleton of a plan. His only hope was that she would emerge victorious, no matter what his own fate would be.

They left early the next morning, well before the sun pierced the veil of night. The walk to the castle along the main road took well over half a day from the port village. For them, having decided to forego the usual route, it would take until night had fallen again to be in sight of the castle. Killian left the path forging to Emma. It may have been well over a decade since she'd stepped foot in the woods of her kingdom but he knew she remembered them well. Her tiny gasps and involuntary smiles as they had left the village behind assured him of that.

Emma led them quietly, if not entirely quickly, through the forest. She followed trails and streams that Killian would have overlooked otherwise, murmuring to him in a low voice how she had discovered them when she was younger and her mother had given into her demands of being taught what Snow had learned as a bandit. Where Emma's father had sharpened her sword fighting skills her mother had honed her instincts for survival, neither knowing how truly invaluable their indulgences to their daughter's demands would be.

Around midday they stopped for a small meal and to rest. Emma assured him that they were moving at a good pace. She had to remind him that if they moved any faster they'd be exhausted by the time they reached the castle and they might have well just taken the road where they would have been spotted for all the good it would have done them. Properly chastised he didn't argue when she suggested they wait an hour before continuing on. The delay would only improve their chances of remaining unseen as they approached the castle under the cover of darkness.

The sun had been below the horizon for an hour or so when they finally caught sight of the castle. It was still a few hours until moonrise, what good the waning crescent would be to them remained to be seen. As such there were plenty of torches lighting up the bridge leading to the castle and the courtyard that could be seen through the open gate. The windows were ablaze with light, a far cheerier picture than when they had approached Regina's palace despite the inherent danger they knew lied within.

Killian heard Emma's breath hitch beside him several times before he realized she was beginning to spiral into a panic attack.

"Swan!" He hissed, putting himself in between her and the castle, blocking her view. "Swan. Emma, love, look at me. Come on, love, look at me."

He could feel her whole body shaking under his hands when he placed them on her shoulders. Her breathing was shallow, stuttered, and when she looked at him her eyes could barely hold his in her distress.

"I can't. I can't. I can't."

"Yes, you can," Killian said calmly taking exaggerated deep breaths, trying to hold her gaze as it darted about, hoping she'd copy him. "Emma, breathe with me. Deep breaths, love. In and out. In. Out. In. Out."

Slowly she did as he instructed taking deep, shuddering breaths in time with his. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms hoping to soothe her further. Finally she sagged against him, burying her face in his chest.

"Okay. Alright, I've got you, love. I've got you," he crooned softly, stroking her hair as her breathing evened out.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled into his chest.

Killian tipped her chin back and said earnestly, "There's nothing to be sorry for. I think I'd be more worried if you hadn't had a reaction of some kind at all. I know that the moment I set eyes on my family's castle I'll shed a tear or two."

"Don't make fun of me," Emma gave a weak laugh as she pushed away from him.

"Wouldn't dream of it, love," he said with a wink. Then he regarded her seriously, "So, we've come this far. Feel up to going a bit further?"

"Why not? I mean, we did come all this way."

"Then after you, Swan. After all, it is your castle."

Emma took a final deep breath before nodding and striding around him with purpose in her step. Killian hurried to catch up, grasping her hand in his as she led the way to her former home.

Much like the night of their raid on Regina's palace Emma brought them to a somewhat hidden side entrance. She told him in a quiet whisper that she'd used it more often than not to sneak away from her lessons with the Blue Fairy. In the years that had passed ivy had grown over the door and the lock appeared to be rusted shut. With a quick shot of her magic the lock snapped in two and fell with a harsh thud to the ground. Wincing apologetically Emma pushed open the door and they found themselves looking at a slightly overgrown garden, barely lit by the torches lining the castle walls.

They moved silently through the garden, passing a murky pond that had Killian wondering if Emma's swans were still in residence or if they'd flown away when their owners had been unceremoniously replaced. He kept his question to himself as they moved closer to the castle. Unlike Regina's palace they could see and hear guards moving about the grounds. With Emma leading the way and through sheer luck they made it to a servant's door without being seen, slipping in as quickly as possible.

With difficulty they moved through the castle. There were guards and servants alike roaming the halls despite the lateness of the hour. Both Killian and Emma had to use what knowledge they had of the castle's layout to avoid being caught and made their way to where they believed Zelena to be.

"This has been too easy," Emma breathed quietly.

They were pressed against the wall of the servant's stairwell leading to the landing where the main bed chambers were. It had been Emma's idea to start there and Killian had agreed. Zelena might have been wicked and cruel but she too had to sleep at some point. Killian had confirmed that she had settled herself in Queen Snow's former chambers and boasted about it often.

"I agree but we can't turn back now. All or nothing, Swan."

Killian went to step onto the landing but found himself being surrounded suddenly by green tinted smoke. Before he could blink, much less warn Emma, he found himself in the middle of the castle library staring at a large bubbling cauldron with Zelena standing behind it, smiling widely at him. Emma's string of curses next to him was his only hope that everything hadn't gone completely sideways.

Zelena hadn't bothered with the Regina glamour. She was posturing proudly in a tight fitting black ensemble trimmed in feathers and dark crystals, a black pointed hat with a large brim sat atop her red hair, curls arranged to fall down one side where the ends brushed against a large glittering emerald at the base of her throat. Something about it niggled at Killian's memory but he was more intrigued by how the gem was nearly the same color as the witch's skin.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever join me," Zelena trilled as wisps of steam curled around her. "Then again if you'd come any earlier I would have had to lock you in the dungeon until everything was ready. Luckily for both of us your timing is impeccable."

"You knew we were here," Killian growled, not entirely surprised.

"Of course I did," Zelena huffed and waved her hand behind her. "I told you my spies were watching."

With a jolt Killian saw the server who had attended him the first night in the portside tavern come out from the shadows of the library. He heard Emma gasp beside him as she recognized her was well. Before either of them could say a word Zelena waved her hand again and the server was enveloped in smoke. When it cleared a hideous winged monstrosity, looking horrifically like a large simian, was in her place. It opened its wings wide and flew out the open doors leading to a balcony of some sorts, screeching as it went. Killian watched it go with a sort of sick fascination.

"You're a monster," Emma croaked.

"I prefer wicked witch if you must call me something," Zelena said with a bright white smile. "You'll see soon just how wicked I can be."

"What's in the cauldron?" Killian demanded, unsheathing his sword and taking half a step in front of Emma. "Is this your grand plan? To poison everyone in the kingdom?"

"Oh, it's so much better than that," Zelena's eyes widened as her smile took on a deadly edge. "I'm finally going to get my happy ending."

"By killing everyone?" Emma asked, her voice trembling.

"Not quite, Savior," Zelena sneered. "I'm getting everything my dear sister had and more. I am taking what is owed to me."

"How?"

"This lovely concoction here isn't a potion or a poison, my pretty," Zelena began to circle the cauldron, running a hand lovingly around the rim. "It's a curse, the Dark Curse. One that will allow me to take what is mine without hiding behind a pitiful mask. The Dark One said I couldn't cast it, well more that he wouldn't let me, but I'm proving him wrong. I'm proving them all wrong."

Zelena was standing in front of them, seemingly unconcerned about the sword Killian had unsheathed and pointed at her throat or Emma's raised hands.

"And what will this curse do?" Killian asked, not because he was interested but to keep her talking as he madly tried to come up with a plan.

"Like I said, it will take me to my happy ending. What happens to the rest of you makes no difference to me," Zelena chuckled.

"You hate your sister that much?" Emma asked incredulously.

"That worthless worm was given everything!" Zelena shrieked, her gleeful facade slipping. "It should have been me. I'm more powerful, smarter, more cunning and I was thrown away like a broken broom. She got our mother, the crown, the Dark One on her side all because she was wanted. I won't be so easily cast aside, not this time and never again!"

Killian didn't stop to think and lunged, thrusting his sword through Zelena's stomach. It slid cleanly through, a killing stroke to be sure. To his horror she merely smiled at him as if he'd merely brushed her with a feather.

"You can't kill me, not with such a paltry weapon," Zelena scoffed, pulling the sword out in a casual manner before tossing it aside.

With a flick of her wrist Killian was sent flying. He crashed into one of the tall bookcases and fell to the floor, heavy tomes raining down on him. Aside from the ringing in his head he could hear Emma yelling his name but he was too dazed to answer back. Shaking his head to clear it he tried to stand but only managed to push himself up a few inches before sinking back to the ground with a low groan.

He could still hear Emma crying out for him. Her desperate pleas galvanized him to try to stand once more, despite the fierce ache at the base of his skull. With great effort he stood, swaying dangerously on the spot, but under his own power. What he saw when he looked towards Emma and Zelena nearly stopped his heart.

Zelena's hand was buried deep in Emma's chest. Emma's face was contorted in a rictus of pain, her eyes wide as tears streaked down her cheeks.

"No," Killian grunted as he stumbled over books in his dizzy haste to reach them.

"When will you learn, Your Highness? Love is weakness and it will only get someone killed," Zelena sneered, the muscles in her forearm standing out as Emma cried out in pain.

"Stop!" Killian roared.

Suddenly it felt as though a large hand had wrapped around his throat, stopping him in his tracks. He fought against the invisible vice that was squeezing ever tighter as he continued to struggle to reach Emma. His eyes caught hers, tears running down his cheeks in pain and regret. It was his fault they were in this position, both dying because of his impatience.

"Love… isn't… weakness," Emma gasped.

"What did you say?" Zelena turned back to Emma, her brows drawn down.

"Love isn't weakness," Emma repeated, stronger. "It's strength."

A wave of bright light erupted from her chest, flinging Zelena as cleanly across the room as she had done with him. Immediately the pressure on his throat disappeared and he staggered to Emma's side. Without pause he crashed into her, kissing her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, anywhere he could reach as she ran her hands over his neck, his back, his head, each assuring themselves that the other was whole.

"Emma, are you alright, love?" He rasped, his throat feeling as if he'd swallowed broken glass.

"Me what about you?" She asked shakily.

"I'll be fine," he winced as a wave of dizziness overtook him. "In time."

"I'll do you one better."

With a quick wave of her hand he felt immensely better. He immediately felt guilty for her having to use her magic when she had just seemingly used a powerful amount of it.

"You shouldn't have done that, Swan. A few bumps and bruises aren't worth expending even more of your magic," he said softly, lifting his hand to rest over the place where he had seen Zelena's only moments before.

"I'm pretty sure my magic isn't like a barrel of rum, sailor. I don't think there's a bottom," she gave him a watery chuckle.

"I can fix that."

They spun around to see Zelena standing over the cauldron. Her hat was missing, her hair disheveled with a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth but otherwise looking unscathed from Emma throwing her across the library. In her hand was a heart. At least Killian thought it was, the pulsing organ was almost completely black with only a speck or two of vibrant red swirling in the darkness.

"Don't! You don't have to do this!" Emma pleaded, her hand outstretched.

"Ah, ah, Savior," Zelena squeezed the heart. She eased her grip as Emma lowered her arm, "Nothing is going to stop me. Not your magic or your pathetic pleading. You know, I've always wondered how thin the line between love and hate is. Guess we'll find out."

As quick as a snake strike Zelena crushed the heart. It burst into a waterfall of ash that sifted between her fingers directly into the cauldron below. With a giggle of delight she tipped her hand to deliver the rest of the ashes into the violently churning potion. She dusted off her hands and gently caressed the emerald at her throat.

At the gesture things became suddenly clear to Killian. Whatever the curse did, where ever it took them, or what horrors it had in store, Emma was the only one who would be able to break it. Zelena had called her the Savior, the one that would return on her twenty-eighth birthday to save them all. The Dark One's prophecy was true and with a horrible sinking feeling he knew he'd have to play his part to ensure that it would come to pass.

As a cloying purple smoke began rising in a column from the cauldron Killian hauled Emma into his arms and kissed her soundly before pushing her away. In Zelena's distraction as she watched the curse unfold he sprinted around the cauldron and grabbed the emerald, tearing it from her throat. Without pause he threw it towards Emma, a clumsy toss made with his left hand that had the jewel flying out of sight into the wreckage of where he'd been thrown earlier.

"You fool! Do you think that will stop this curse?" Zelena shrieked.

Killian braced himself for the impact of her magic, holding his left arm over his head, but none came. Instead he caught sight of a flash of metal out of the corner of his eye and turned just in time to watch a blade slice through his wrist, severing his hand from his arm.

Bellowing in pain he dropped to his knees as he clutched his profusely bleeding left arm to his chest. White spots were dancing in front of his eyes as a dark shadow closed in from the sides. He was faintly aware of a smaller, more insignificant pain blooming at his throat only to belatedly realize that Zelena was holding him upright, her knife drawing across his neck.

"No!"

Using what strength he had he focused on Emma. She was posed with her hands in front of her, as though she were waiting for the opportune moment to use her magic. The edge knife dug into his throat in response.

"Careful there, Savior. You can't stop the inevitable but you can stop me killing him. Put those hands down," Zelena goaded from behind him.

"Emma, the prophecy," Killian choked out, as he tried to keep her in focus. "Go, love, you've got to go."

"I can't," Emma sobbed, lowering her hands.

"That's right, you can't. Nothing can stop me now," Zelena crowed.

The thick purple smoke was pouring over the sides of the cauldron. Somehow he knew Emma only had moments to decide.

"You can stop her, Swan. You can save us all, it's fate, but you have to go. You'll find us, you'll find me again," he gasped.

"Killian…"

"Go now, Emma! Go!"

He saw her face screw up in anguish as he used the last of his strength to twist Zelena's arm away from his neck. Zelena cried out in pain as she dropped the knife and then in fury as Emma was becoming enveloped in white smoke. Despite his pain and his heart breaking he couldn't help but feel proud at the sight. She had somehow learned how to magically transport herself as she had wanted to months ago.

Before she disappeared completely he called out. He had wanted to wait, to tell her when they were both happy and safe, but he didn't want her to leave, to possibly never see him again without knowing.

"I love you."

He thought he heard her cry out to him but she was gone. No trace remained as the purple smoke of the curse crept across the floor towards him at an alarming rate. Zelena stood over him, rage sparking in her eyes as he collapsed to the floor and fell into the yawning darkness that awaited him.

She landed roughly on her hands and knees. It didn't matter if she was safe or not. Only one thing mattered: getting back to Killian no matter the cost. He had told her he loved her, in that impossible moment before she had disappeared, he deserved to hear her say it back.

The clatter of footsteps broke through her spiraling thoughts as she jumped to her feet, ready to fight off whoever was approaching. She was stunned to see Elsa running towards her. As she looked around she realized she was in the study where she had practiced her magic in Arendelle's castle. In her distress she had transported herself to the last place she had felt truly safe, since Killian's arms were no longer an option.

"Emma! What are you doing here? What happened?" Elsa asked as she came to a stop in front of her.

"A curse," she said shakily, a few tears falling from her eyes. She looked past Elsa, out the window that faced south, towards her kingdom, "But I'll find him. I will always find him."

END PART 1

Yes, my lovely readers, you read that right. This is the end of the first "book". Much like Thompson's death I've had it planned since the early stages of writing this. Look for the sequel The Savior and The Scoundrel to be posted sometime in early January. I will post a little teaser here to whet your appetites. As always you can come bug me on Tumblr (username terreisa) and have a happy holiday!