4 weeks ago...
Deception never got any easier; in fact, as the week dragged on, the lies grew more complicated, with additional details to try and remember. Who knew what. What each of them had told someone else. Killian and Emma were forced to have comprehensive debriefings with each other several times a day. When they could find a moment alone, that is.
The tension, the arguing… that had been Emma's idea, the day he came home from the hospital. And she hadn't warned him beforehand, either; maybe as payback for the shock of seeing him stumble into her office with an unexpected stab wound, even though that part wasn't his fault. Regardless, her emotional outburst with Jones as witness - and partial victim - sounded impressively real. Killian wondered if a small part of her was actually angry at him for suggesting the plan in the first place. That night, while helping him tend to the painful rows of sutures in his flank, she had offered words of quiet apology, which Killian assured her weren't necessary.
From then on, their charade had required the inclusion of biting remarks and frosty silences, adding to the discomfiture of all onlookers. Increasingly, Killian found himself unable to meet the eyes of anyone he interacted with; his days as a villain had not prepared him to sustain such a devastating deception in front of people he actually cared about. They were trying to comfort him, going out of their way to be sure he was taken care of, trying to bolster his spirits and show him their love, and all he was doing in return was prolonging the suffering they kept stoically private. If he looked them in the face, he would see the tears behind Snow's brave smile. The desperation masked by David's gruff words of optimism. The helplessness on Henry's face every time he softly asked his mother what she needed.
More and more, Killian was becoming convinced that he had the easy job, going to face the monster. Emma would be left to continue the falsehoods alone. Physical torture may yet prove easier to bear.
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One week after the surprise stabbing, Killian limped along a garden path in an unfamiliar realm, straining to hear - yet dreading - the sound of a playful three-year-old in the vicinity. The cottage lay just up ahead, at the outer limits of his ability to walk even with six days of recovery time behind him.
Storybrooke slept, gifted with hours left until the dawn of Day 7. It had been early even by Killian's standards when he'd awakened in a spiraling terror, the charade weaving seamlessly into his nightmares, and he knew he would never get back to any semblance of a peaceful rest.
To a greater extent each day, the wound was becoming a convenient excuse. A plausible reason for him to avoid taking that awful next step, the plunge into torment that was their whole motive for emotionally torturing their loved ones. If he'd been sound, who knew how long it would have taken him to work up the nerve to go. Maybe the extra time was making it harder; maybe he could have already been through it all and come out the other side by now. But it was a moot point when he was limited to hobbling mere yards before needing a break. And so, in order to banish the temptation to carry on in indefinite, dread-tinged delay, he had to eliminate the obstacle.
He'd been a coward, in the end, unable to face a proper goodbye. The last glimpse of his slumbering wife he would take with him into Hell. The note he'd left her - I love you, my Swan, for all eternity - could only bring her anguish on the morrow. But it was time to go, and their shared pain would help to shield him from a frighteningly perceptive monster.
First things first, though. Killian knocked on a carved wooden door, tucking his hookless wrist behind his back as he awaited a response.
Bless Smee and his side business. With the uniting of the Realms, there wasn't much call for magic beans anymore, but the former first mate still tended the beanstalk in his backyard with all the devotion integral to his character. Killian and Emma may have been his first customers in three years; they made sure to tip him well. Later, they'd even tossed around the idea of somehow smuggling a bean into the Vocivore's presence and then simply opening a portal right underneath the monster, but eventually decided that its telepathic powers would give it full control of the portal's destination. The idea was shelved for a last-ditch effort, if all else failed.
Belle opened the door with a pleasant smile. "Killian! Welcome back! Hope's gone for a nap, but I can go get her if-"
"No!" Killian exclaimed, then added sheepishly, "Thank you, love. She can be a right little terror if she misses out, and I'm not here to collect her just yet."
Belle nodded her understanding, and his heart wept. He wanted more than anything to see his daughter and ensure her safety after so many days of pretending otherwise. To tell her once again how much he loved her… in case he never got another chance. But he held firm in his decision. For one thing, he didn't have the time. Every minute spent in this realm translated into an hour back in Storybrooke. In the short amount of time he'd taken to walk from the portal to the cottage, Swan would have likely already risen and discovered his absence. He needed to get this business taken care of and get out of there as quickly as possible.
Additionally, if he had just seen Hope, the monster may somehow pick up on that. It was better to have the real feelings of missing her and of prolonged separation when he surrendered himself.
Later today.
Killian shuddered slightly, then plastered on a fake, cordial grin. "Is your husband around, by any chance? I have a favor to ask of him."
"Uh, yeah, he was just…"
As if drawn by magnetism, Rumple chose that moment to materialize near the shed in the corner of the yard, and Belle gestured in his direction. "Just there, in fact."
Killian thanked his friend before hobbling back the way he'd come. The Dark One was waiting near a morning glory vine, wearing an overly polite smile for his wife's sake, which promptly dissolved into an expression of strained acknowledgement as soon as the cottage door clicked shut.
"Back so soon, Captain?"
"I haven't the time for games, Crocodile," growled Killian. He lifted his shirt to reveal the unbandaged stab wound in his side. "The blasted magical barrier has expanded to include all of Storybrooke. For once, have the decency to do the right thing without a calculation of how it can benefit you."
Rumple broke into a wicked smirk. "Heal you for your appointment with the Vocivore? That seems rather futile, seeing as you'll soon be sporting countless other injuries just like it…"
"That's exactly the point and you know it." Killian stepped closer, seething with enough frustration to partially mask the dread threatening to overwhelm him. "I have to start out as strong as possible to have any chance at surviving long enough to-"
"Spare me the sniveling," sighed Rumple. "If it rids me of your unwanted company for the afternoon…"
He made a casual gesture with his fingers, and Killian was knocked back a step with the unexpected force of the dark magic crashing into him. If Emma's healing was like an effervescent champagne spilling over the rim of a bottle, Rumple's was the cork unstoppered, all explosive velocity with nothing gentle about it. Invisible iron fingers gripped half-knitted flesh, mashing separated fibers together until they had no choice but to bond, yanking and practically melting individual layers of dermis into a functional protective coat.
Effective… but excruciating.
If jet lag were possible between realms with different time rates, Killian would have self-diagnosed as suffering the effects of it. The thirty seconds spent enduring the healing magic of his foe felt like the half hour that had elapsed in Storybrooke during that time. And when the invasive power fled with just as much force as it had plowed into him, Killian only barely managed to avoid toppling sideways. He dripped with sweat, unable to get enough air.
"No charge," sneered Rumple as he pushed past the doubled-over pirate. "It will be worth it to hear tales of your… experiences... with the monster."
He was gone before Killian could summon the breath for a bitter reply.