Earlier that afternoon, they had spotted the first signs of land.
Regina's kingdom is but a few days away now, and Killian had gruffly informed her of this before disappearing belowdecks. Part of Mary had wanted to follow him, but she held back, figuring that he must have just needed some time to himself. She is terrified by what this means as well–have they been mad this whole time to think that storming the Evil Queen's castle in search of some magic beans that may or may not even be there will actually work? It is a fool's errand at best, a suicide mission at worse. And yet it is their only choice, if Mary wants to keep Killian alive. She still has not told him of the threat that the Dark One made on his life that night on the Jolly. She is afraid of what will happen if she does.
Hours later, or so it seems, she can see dark clouds creeping over the horizon. The wind has picked up, and she knows another storm is brewing. An involuntary shudder racks her body–a storm had heralded the appearance of Rumpelstiltskin the last time, and her body is seized by fear that he will come for her again.
Still, Dark One or no, she will need Killian's help to sail the ship if the storm does come, and she ventures below, rapping once with her knuckles on the door to his cabin before pushing it open. "Killian? I–"
She smells the rum before she sees him. He is slumped on the bed, burying his head in his hand, the flask lying on its side next to him. When he looks at her, his eyes are rimmed with red, although with tears or drink she does not know. He looks utterly wrecked, heartbroken, but in his eyes still shines the one thing that Mary knew Killian Jones never thought he would feel again: hope.
She crosses to him quickly, preparing to drop to her knees in front of him, cradling his head in her hands, but his voice stops her.
"Please stay."
Her breath is stolen from her lungs. "What?"
"Stay with me, Mary. Forget the Dark One and the beans and all of it. Stay with me. I love you, Mary."
"I–I love you too," she murmurs. "But we can't–"
"Yes we can, Mary."
Choked by tears, she shakes her head. "We can't run," she says softly. "He'd find us."
"We could try," he says vehemently. His hand reaches out for hers. "Please, love. You've given me life again, a life that for once in 300 years is about something other than revenge. You taught me how to live again. I can't lose you–not now."
But if you don't let me go, Mary thinks miserably, you'll lose me anyway.
"I don't belong here, Killian," she whispers. "This…this isn't my world."
"You belong with me, Mary. Can't you see that?"
"My family needs me."
"Mary–"
"You just don't understand!"
"Then make me understand!" He is shouting now, his voice ragged and broken, gripping onto her as if at any minute the Dark One himself will come and tear her from his grasp. An explanation is on the tip of her tongue, but the words are lost to her. Although every movement feels like Rumpelstiltskin is squeezing her heart once again, she lets go of him and stands up.
"I'm sorry. I–I can't."
"Please, Mary." He is begging now. "Please stay."
"I'm sorry."
I can't let you die.
