Dedicated to all my lovely readers who didn't give up on this story, even when Emma's choices might have angered you. This chapter gives you the reason for it all, finally!
Beta-read by the ingenious lethemoirai, whose suggestions and comments added dimension to this story in so many ways. I will never forget your hard work. ;D
And so, without further ado, previously in An Age Cannot Sate Love:
Emma has been traveling through the door of time, reliving memories of her original timeline, juxtaposed against a timeline Killian altered by way of his intervention early on in Emma's childhood, providing a stability she hadn't known in the original. In the new timeline, Emma has Henry when she's 22, marries Killian when she's 24, has another son (Liam), and still travels to Storybrooke with her family (including Jamison) when she's 28. She breaks the curse using true love's kiss on David.
Once again, the italicized sections represent Emma's flashbacks, the regular type is occurring in real time.
Chapter 38: Who Decides What We See, Final part
Emma stretched her arms overhead with the languidness of a cat, Killian's roaming fingers waking her with his ever-ready desire, it not having cooled one whit after several years of marriage. He said it was because she was aging as well as a bottle of expensive rum, kissing away the tiny wrinkles around her eyes, tracing the stretch marks from her two pregnancies with his fingers, drawing gooseflesh across her lower abdomen. He called them her battle scars, and revealed his own with the question, "Do you love me any less for mine?" Of course he already knew the answer, and she only drew him down to her, filled with desire for the touch of the only man she had ever loved.
Their love-making was delicious and fulfilling, morphing into a quick double shower with nips along the shoulders as they switched positions so she could rinse while he soaped up, rushing their morning routine to make it to her appointment on time. Killian would get the boys on the bus.
Accepting a coffee from Killian's hands with a large grin communicating more than just a simple thanks, Emma started to move to the entrance to grab a jacket, but he pulled her back and into his mouth, taking his time over his kiss as if to say, the world can wait.
She melted into him, more than aware of her boys' heads rising up from their cereal bowls to study their parents momentarily, then to go back to their breakfast as though nothing unusual was occurring. Of course, it wouldn't be unusual for them to see such displays.
"Good luck, Mom," Henry said when Killian finally released her. And Liam, not to be outdone, gave her a grin as sly and wonderful as any she'd received from his father. I love you, Momma, his bright blue eyes intimated. He was going to be a lady-killer one day.
====o0I0o====
The final two doors stared at each other in silent testament to the two different lives they represented, neither swinging wide to reveal their secrets just yet, as if offering Emma one over-long moment to collect her thoughts before finally going home. This was it. Emma could only guess the door on the left contained her last memory before she fell through time, and the one on the right… It could harbor just about anything, since she had no memory to go along with the new timeline that might tell her how or if she'd ever left it.
Glancing over her shoulder, the lengthy hallway stretched out behind her, two lifetimes for one life playing out behind each of those doors. Understanding exactly what Killian had sacrificed left her wondering what she had ever done for him. To be loved so completely by another person was almost overwhelming, and Emma knew she was undeserving. How could she possibly repay him? How could she possibly match his gift?
There was no answer. Killian had not only relinquished her and their child at the door of time, but had waited centuries for her birth, traveled back and forth to Neverland to keep his body young, allowed her the time to develop a relationship with Neal so Henry could be born. And he had never known whether or not he might find her again each time he left.
Two timelines for one life…
She once had a conversation with David and Mary Margaret about what it was like to have two sets of memories. David said it was mostly like a dream, neither set more real than the other. Over time his true memories seemed clearer, the fabricated ones serving the purpose of showing him who he didn't want to be. It helped that he knew which was which. In Emma's case, she wasn't sure—she just knew which set she preferred.
Walking through that preferred timeline had shown her one important thing, however. Nearly every major event that had occurred in the original timeline had occurred in the new, with minor detail changes from Killian's involvement. For instance, Neal still returned to Storybrooke with Tamara, but instead of jealousy on Emma's part, she mainly felt relieved he had found happiness just as she had. That relief quickly dissolved into fury when she learned the extent of Tamara's involvement in the abduction of her son, but Emma was forgiving by nature, and didn't blame Neal for something he couldn't have known.
Because of Killian's supply of beans, which they tried to keep as quiet as possible, they left Liam in the care of Belle and Granny, and Leroy of all people, who turned out to be quite good at taking the inquisitive little boy on short hikes in the forest, never too rushed to stop every time Liam bent to examine another rock or bug. Killian, Emma and the Charmings left for Neverland aboard the Jolly Roger, with Gold and Regina in tow to retrieve Henry.
Of course Gold eventually remembered who Killian was, and the argument that ensued had Gold even angrier than ever. But Killian told the truth when he said he had never dallied with Rumple's wife. Since Gold had never known the extent of their involvement, he unwillingly took Killian's sincerity at face value, although he brooded over it, and chose to work a good portion of the rescue on his own. This was quite inconvenient, but favorable as well, since no one overly enjoyed his presence.
Eventually Henry was rescued, Gold and Pan destroyed, and Storybrooke went back to life as usual.
So now that Emma stood before both doors, she knew the town would be similar behind both, but on the right, Henry would be younger, Liam had been born, Killian had two hands and a past he could be proud of, Regina was pregnant with her first child with Robin, Graham had been reunited with his heart while Leroy had reunited with the pink fairy, Ruby and Dr. Whale were dating and enjoying strange outings late at night, and so on, a cascade of happy endings.
With a deep sigh, Emma glanced down at her belly, wrapping her hands underneath the firm roundness and lifting slightly, giving her hips a much needed rest. What she wouldn't give for a shower and a bed for several days. The life Killian had made possible beckoned to her, calling her home as sure as her love for her family. To hold Henry and Liam, to feel her husband's touch on her skin, to invite her dad and her parents and brother over for dinner and just bask in the normalcy of it all—her desires seemed almost like dreams themselves, just within reach of her grasping fingers.
An air of expectancy surrounded her as she looked to the door on the left and awaited its release, the brown wooden hallway cushioning the moment with a thickening of the atmosphere, or maybe it was her own temperature rising in anticipation. Either way, she stepped forward and waited for the door to open on Main Street that fateful morning before her disappearance.
The door inched open at first, then swung wide as though eager to reveal its contents. But instead of hearing the happy sounds of her hometown waking up, an office came into view, Archie's office specifically, and she was surprised to see herself sitting on the couch, wearing exactly what she had worn the day she fell though time, red jacket over a tank top, jeans and her favorite leather boots. Archie leaned back in his well-worn armchair with the same concerned expression she'd come to know and love over the years.
This time the concern was directed at her.
Emma edged forward curiously, her toes bumping into the invisible wall that kept her from interacting with the scene on the other side of it, not having recalled the hour before she fell through time until just that very moment.
His office smelled of leather and paper, the couch cushion just stable enough to give support but soft enough to give the illusion of being enfolded in comfort. Mary Margaret had suggested the sessions after Emma had asked an innocuous question: Was there an adjustment period when you first got married? It had taken a couple of sessions already, her mouth fumbling over the words that would bring her to a resolution as quickly as possible.
Archie's unassuming presence encouraged her to speak, despite her natural reticence involving personal matters. Once the words began to flow, they continued flowing, drawing from a pool of emotion and confusion that longed to be drained.
She and Killian had been married about a year and a half, and their life was wonderful really, a tribute to how much a reformed pirate and a lost girl could really change. But… To be honest, she had moments of doubt and feeling trapped, her hands pulling at her throat as though she wore a turtleneck fit for a child. It was most likely the remnants of past relationships, and she wanted to be free of all that muck that reared its ugly head in moments of frustration, or when she least expected it, like when he did something particularly thoughtful and her heart immediately questioned his sincerity. Killian was always sincere, but her past partners hadn't been, leaving a residue of mistrust.
Killian also came to their relationship with baggage of his own. Sometimes, when he was hurting over something, he would push her away, hiding his pain behind snide comments and indifference. Those were the days he reached for the rum and brooded alone on his ship.
The first session had revealed the root cause of her occasional turmoil: fear. In the second session, Archie had quite cleverly helped her discover that her fear was born out of finally surrendering her whole heart to another person. Surrender was different from love. It implied a level of trust Emma had never had occasion to experience in her life.
If she wanted to heal, she had to let go of the past and the illusion of control. It wasn't as if she could stop the world and live in a bubble. She had to focus on the present and hope the future would be just as blessed, and if it wasn't, well, she had proven time and again that she could handle it.
It wasn't as if the information was groundbreaking or anything, but seeing that her fear was born out of control helped her relinquish some of it, and when she was feeling suffocated, she could take a few deep breaths and talk herself down.
The memory of those first couple of sessions and the reasons behind them brought a smile to Emma's face as she watched from the doorway, the therapist-client pair exchanging pleasantries and discussing some of the effects from her previous revelations. So much had occurred since that last session in Archie's office. She had been on an adventure beyond imagination and fallen in love with her husband all over again—more than once if she included the alternate timeline.
"We've established that you love Killian enough to have surrendered your heart..." Archie's sudden seriousness broke through Emma's reverie, and she focused her attention on the small room and the conversation.
"…That your fear stems from recognizing you're happy and can't control outside events that might affect that happiness. So I have a question for you."
Emma's other self gazed at Archie with interest, waiting for him to continue.
"If you could do one thing for your husband, one thing that would demonstrate your love for him more than anything, what would it be?" he asked.
As other-Emma answered the question without hesitation, Emma felt her own lips simultaneously mouth the words, "I would do anything to take away his regret, so he might know how wonderful he really is, who I see every time I look at him."
Archie looked at her strangely, as though he had been expecting her to say something like, Pick up his dirty socks every day without complaint.
And then something changed in Archie's face, his eyes holding a twinkle Emma had never noticed before in the kind therapist. Other-Emma just waited as if she thought Archie might have a solution for such a tall order.
"And if that were possible, if Killian truly had no regrets, do you think you would love him as much? It's entirely plausible that his experiences have shaped him into the man you love," Archie challenged.
The question had thrown her other self off-guard, and her self-assurance faltered for a split-second. She had never carried the thought any further than the immediate consequence of Killian being free of his past. "I don't know, but I'd sure as hell try," other-Emma declared with a conviction that seemed to reverberate throughout the air.
"Then perhaps we should find out," Archie murmured.
Emma inhaled sharply from the doorway as she caught Archie's comment, her other-self looking bemused with the implications of Archie's line of questioning and having missed the comment altogether.
"What was that?" other-Emma asked, pulled from her thoughts.
Archie settled back in his chair, waving away her question, that amused glimmer back in his gray eyes. "Then perhaps you can do that for him, Emma. Try and help him live without regret. Love him the way he needs to be loved, and the past will no longer hold the same power it once did."
"Thanks, Archie, I'll think about it," her other self said, standing up to shake his hand with a gentle smile of thanks. But before she reached the door to Archie's office, Emma thought she saw her other self sniff deeply and draw her brows together in question, shaking it off before exiting the office.
It was then that Emma distinctly remembered catching a whiff of pipe tobacco from a freshly lit pipe. The hallway door hadn't closed even though her other-self was gone, and so when Emma turned her attention back to the still-seated therapist, she saw him blowing smoke rings at the ceiling in lazy satisfaction. Pongo slinked into the room and transformed into the white fox as she padded across the floor, stopping at Archie's chair and lifting her face for a scratch under the chin. Archie obliged, his own shape shifting until Emma was staring slack-jawed into the face of Mac.
"Yes, Emma Jones," he said to no one in particular, "Perhaps you think about that!" Mac's booming laughter shot out of his mouth in an outburst of hilarity, he the only one in on the joke.
The door began to close on Mac and the fox, but just before it did, Mac turned his head in Emma's direction, and holding her eyes, blew a smoke ring at her. "We aren't given these kinds of chances arbitrarily, Mrs. Jones."
The white puff floated across the room in an ever-widening circle, framing Mac's exuberant face with its fuzzy edges, while Emma's mind began to whirl with possibilities.
The door shut firmly and Emma turned away, months of turmoil becoming clear through Mac's question: Do you think you could love Killian Jones if he didn't have his regrets?
Her entire journey back in time had been to show her that she most certainly could love him, and did, regardless of the experiences that shaped him. All those months ago, Mac had implied that Killian in the past was different from Killian in the future, a conversation that had thrown Emma into a tailspin of emotion and confusion. And yet it had all been a ruse to ferret out her true feelings for the one man she had always loved, in any time.
====o0I0o====
One door left. One door that held one final memory. Emma could only hope that whatever it was, it would hold the key to her returning to the alternate timeline, since she didn't think she could live without Liam or Jamison in her life.
The door swung open quietly, just like all the others before it, and Emma stepped to the threshold, nearly stumbling in surprise when she saw her other self sitting on the couch in Archie's office, looking exactly the same as she had in the corresponding memory. She appeared to have only just arrived, taking a sip of a still-steaming cup of coffee while she made small talk with the town's resident psychiatrist.
It was several moments before Emma recognized the scene as her yearly evaluation and the reason she had to leave her apartment before the boys left for school. She and Regina had set up the sessions as a way to ensure the mental health of Storybrooke's first responders. The program had been a success, mitigating the stress of the complications that arose in a town that had magic amidst a world that did not.
"Well, Emma, I know this is your yearly evaluation, not that you appear to need it," Archie began, "but I do know from experience that looks can be deceiving. So tell me, how is everything?" Archie's unobtrusive concern sat plainly on his face, reminding her that he wasn't only a doctor, but a friend as well.
"Isn't that the truth?" other-Emma chuckled, "But everything has been really good lately." She took another sip of coffee, her eyes losing focus for a second, and a memory of Killian's mouth against her collar bone brushed across Emma's skin in sharp definitude as she experienced what her other self was thinking, once again in the throes of the odd sensation of observing and experiencing the memory simultaneously, as though she were in two places at once.
"Tell me about work," Archie said.
Emma's other-self gave a summary of the kinds of cases she, Graham and David had been working lately. And as often happens with psychiatrists, once she had begun talking, Archie was able to steer the conversation in the direction he really desired, her personal life, evident by the tiny smile on his lips that suggested pride in his manipulations, her other self completely unaware.
Emma listened to the contentment in her own voice as her other self shared what it was like to live out the life she had dreamed of since she was a little girl, with the man she'd idolized for as long. Emma's own mind began to wander, her heart near to bursting with the desire to get back to that life.
"Well, there is one thing," other-Emma said thoughtfully, drawing Emma from her pleasant recollections by the break in the rolling sound of the simple conversation, her ears noting the sudden seriousness of the comment that seemed to stall the air in the room.
Archie raised his brows as if he expected it, concerned and gentle as usual, and other-Emma gave a tentative smile.
"We've talked before about the story," she began.
Archie's face suddenly seemed to contradict itself, his mouth looking grave, but his eyes… His eyes were gleaming and gray, the unmistakable eyes of Mac. Emma groaned inwardly. Her other self wouldn't have known she was staring into the face of a shape-shifter, a seer who was so much more than just another fortune teller.
Emma had a feeling she knew what her other self was going to ask, given her fascination with the other timeline. One of the doors had opened on her and Killian watching documentaries about time travel and space anomalies, she helping Killian try to figure out what happened to the other Emma who was sent back through the door, especially since she was carrying his child—which explained his occasional looks of sadness most often occurring when she was pregnant with Liam.
"Well, it's just that we can't figure it out. And I want to know what happens to her baby, er… my baby," other-Emma fumbled.
Emma had the sudden urge to shout into the room, "I'm right here!" and placing a hand on her belly, "We're right here!" But Emma knew they wouldn't hear her. Memories didn't work that way. Well, except for Mac, but Mac seemed to come and go as he liked, and Emma had learned to accept it.
Archie inclined his head slightly, considering. "It could be as simple as having another. Have you thought of that?"
"Sure, but Killian isn't convinced. And the way he tells the story to the kids, bits and pieces of it before their bedtimes..." Emma watched her other-self blush, and the memory of Killian whispering into her mouth the most delicious parts of their journey flooded her mind, her body tightening in pleasant response.
Archie quietly waited for her to continue, his brows arched as though he knew exactly what she was thinking.
"I know I have no right to complain, but sometimes... sometimes I wish I were the one carrying the child he remembers so clearly. I hate to see him sad over a memory I had nothing to do with," other-Emma blurted, her eyes dropping to her upturned palms as they sat on her thighs.
Archie smiled encouragingly. "There's no need to be embarrassed, lass. Your reaction is perfectly understandable."
She looked up and smiled, relief relaxing her features. "Then you don't think I'm crazy, or worse, ungrateful?"
"Not at all," he added. "I would think it was quite normal to be jealous of Mr. Jones." The gray eyes sparked with mischief and Emma knew Mac well enough to know he was about to bait his captive audience. She wished she could tell herself to calm down and not take it personally, but other-Emma was already sitting up straighter, shoulders tensing.
"Jealous? Is that what you think I am?" she asked, affronted by Archie's suggestion and surprised he would risk such an unwarranted judgment.
"It matters not. Your husband claims to have experienced an adventure with another version of you, a glorious adventure of which you have no recollection, suggesting that perhaps he even experienced it with another woman he only thought was you. I can imagine the questions you must have." Archie's eyes drilled forward with a particular intrigue, challenging her to answer the charge.
Other-Emma inhaled sharply, not missing the accusations aimed at Killian and her. "Then you think we're wasting our time trying to understand what happened to her. That she's just a part of his past he needs to let go of?" she said with a bare hint of disdain.
"Let me ask you, Mrs. Jones…" Archie's Northern Maine accent degenerated into something more Scottish-sounding on her name, but other-Emma was still too flustered to pay attention. "What would happen if she were to return to your time? What would you do if a pregnant woman from your husband's past were to appear on your proverbial door step, claiming a love beyond imagination? Are you so confident in your marriage that you don't think he might have some kind of attraction for her? That he might not eventually leave you for her?"
"Wait, no. That's not it, she's me. Even Dad… Jamison, says so," other-Emma argued.
"So everyone claims. But the question still stands," he stated.
Emma watched her other self sink into the couch cushions, some of her bravado being replaced with insecurity. Mac/Archie had poked through other-Emma's bubble of perfection with a question that had her flummoxed as she considered all her years with Killian, together and apart. Emma felt only sympathy for her other self, having been in a similar position long ago on an ornate settee in Mac's parlor.
"I—I don't know," she said dejectedly.
"Perhaps I can ask one more question that might make this easier?" Archie offered.
Other-Emma looked up from her hands with a kind of dread that said she wasn't sure she wanted to hear anything else from her therapist.
"This is your life, your destiny." He paused, lightly tapping his fingers on the ends of the arms of his chair. "So what is it you believe?" His lips twitched with amused delight, and other-Emma stared at him blankly, not understanding what he could possibly be so happy about.
"What do you want to be true, Mrs. Jones?" he reiterated more quietly this time, gray eyes intensifying as they focused on his quarry.
"I want… I want the adventure story to be true. But I want it to be me," she admitted, looking up at Archie with longing, wishing there was a chance, but unable to believe in the possibility.
"Ah, yes. There it is."
"So what now?"
Archie shrugged. "So what now?"
"I mean, what do I do with this information? What does it gain me?"
"All it does, lass, is give you something to either hold onto or let go of as you see fit."
"And that's it?"
"That's it. No more, no less. Wishing things were different doesn't make them different." He pulled a pipe out of his pocket, holding it in one hand while he regarded her with a bright smile. "So let me ask you, who decides what we see?"
Emma's other self didn't lose her confused expression, but it became the backdrop for an increasing frustration. "What kind of question is that? One of those rhetorical ones that try to make the one asking it appear smart?"
"Touché, Mrs. Jones. But you'll know the answer to that question before you go home today, as well as the answer to your questions about Killian's other woman."
Other-Emma humphed at the other woman comment, but she let it go. "How can you possibly know that?"
"My conscience tells me so," he quipped with a quick raising and lowering of his brows, his face gentling a bit as though he understood he had almost pushed her too far. "You're smart, Emma Jones. Think."
"Yeah, well thanks, Archie, I guess." She glanced at her watch, noted the time and stood up.
"Good bye, Mrs. Jones."
She nodded and left the room, not even realizing a true therapist would loathe ending a session with his client angry and agitated, especially in an evaluation such as this. "Until we meet again," Archie murmured.
Emma's own door was still open, the same as before, and she watched Archie fill his pipe from the tobacco pouch in his pocket, tamping it down to his satisfaction. Striking a match, he lit it and puffed, sighing loudly when the smoke began to fill the room.
Finally looking up at her as she stood behind the handle-less door, his eyes once again held her gaze, commanding all her attention while from her periphery she watched his body dissolve into Mac's shape. His animated eyes were the only body part to remain the same.
Behind a large puff of smoke, he beckoned her closer with a wave of his hand.
Countless times she had tried to step forward onto a scene as her emotions became unbearable, when she thought she would burst from being held back from an embrace or a reunion, and each time her foot or hand would hit the invisible barrier that kept her from entering. She lifted her foot with the same trepidation, expecting to strike that same barrier. But nothing held her back, and her foot fell into Archie's office, silent on the carpet.
"Come in, lass." Mac reached over to pat the couch next to him, the exact spot her other self had just vacated.
"A…Are you s-sure?" Emma's voice sounded strained, the words catching on her dry lips after hours of quiet observation.
"It's quite lovely to see you again, Emma Jones. Here." She sat down on the couch while he handed her a bottle of water, although she couldn't have said where it had come from. Sitting felt heavenly, a warm relief spreading throughout her lower body as her muscles released their tension. She had been standing for a very long time.
"What about… her… Emma in this timeline?" Her head swiveled around the room in dread that her other self could decide she had forgotten something and walk into the room any second.
"Oh, not to worry, she's walking to Granny's as we speak. She'll stop to talk with Regina about something and then Graham will catch up to her, and then she'll be on her way again."
"Ok…" Emma drawled out, not quite following.
"And then she'll fall through time as she passes down Main Street, exactly as you did in the other timeline," he said with an incline of his head that told her she should have guessed that for herself. "So we have a few minutes."
"I see. So I fell through because I needed to know if I could love Killian without regret. And she falls through because she wanted to know what it was like to live out Killian's adventure." Emma was surprised at how coherent her words sounded, despite her roiling emotions.
"Aye. Although you are still speaking of her as though she's separate from you. She's not," Mac stated.
"Then what happens now?"
"You step into her place," he said, as though he couldn't fathom why she had any questions at all.
"But I'm… pregnant," Emma said, stating the obvious as though Mac was an idiot for not having noticed.
"So you are. I'm sure Mr. Jones will be quite chuffed to see you two after all this time." He took another drag on his pipe, pursing his lips as he exhaled.
His manner was entirely too casual for the conversation, and while his demeanor helped calm Emma's anxiety over how her return was supposed to work out, it did nothing to answer the thousands of questions crowding her mind.
"So just to make sure, I fell through time in both timelines?" she clarified.
"Yes, of course," he said. "How else did you think this was going to work?"
"But which one is true? Which timeline really happened and which one didn't?" Emma pressed, needing to fully understand what had occurred.
"Mrs. Jones, this isn't like the residents of Storybrooke with two sets of memories. Your case is… special. Both timelines occurred for you. And you will remember both, just as Killian still remembers both of his."
"But what about everything being different in this timeline? What about Graham being alive and Liam being born? What about…" she trailed off, unsure of what else to include.
"Destiny, lass. Destiny. Events in both timelines brought you to the same place: the place where you wanted to change something. So who decides, Mrs. Jones? Who decides what you see?" he asked, reiterating the question he'd asked her all those months before when she sat in the same spot.
Emma sank back against the couch, resting her head back with a sigh as she thought about Mac's question. "I really don't know. You? Me?"
"Maybe. Or maybe it's the one who orchestrated a collection of experiences that would best help you realize your destiny, in both timelines."
"You mean that wasn't you?"
"Oh no, I don't have that kind of power. But think about those experiences for a minute. It was you who saw Mr. Jones's pain when no one else did. The pain of his regret in the original timeline, and the pain of wondering what happened to his child in the alternate timeline."
He pointed his pipe in her direction, bouncing it to punctuate his words.
"You were the savior; you always have been. You were the one who made the choice to sacrifice yourself so Killian could live without regret, and in turn he sacrificed himself for your happiness, and that began a cascade of good intentions that affected many former residents of the Enchanted Forest, as well as countless others like Elizabeth Jamison, who remained a widow in the other timeline.
"It was you, lass." He spoke more quietly now, still gesturing with his pipe. "You who were given the opportunity. You who took it." He dropped his hand to his lap and sighed. "The biggest challenge in life is making use of those opportunities when they arise. And because you did..." He paused, as if waiting for her to finish his thought when she fully comprehended his words.
"Everyone has their happy ending," she finished. "Well, maybe not everyone."
"No, not everyone," he agreed.
"Wha… How…" Her words were failing her as she realized the circle had been completed, the imperfection in the Balgienit's woven cloth of time finally repaired.
"Mrs. Jones, it was a gift. An exclusive one that included you and many others, but not everyone. And neither you nor I get to determine who benefits from it. I might get to dabble here and there in altering perceptions, but that's as far as my role goes."
"So you really don't know who's in control of time," she said skeptically.
"I have my suspicions, lass." He stood up and switched his pipe to his other hand, a clear indication that the discussion was closed. "And now, dear Mrs. Jones, it appears our time is up."
She slowly followed suit. She still had questions of course, but now nothing seemed as important as getting back to Killian and her boys. "Thanks, Mac."
The twinkle came back to his eye. "You say that as though you aren't sure you want to thank me."
"I'm not sure. I was nearly killed, more than once!"
"Well, maybe," he conceded, "but you weren't killed and now you can go home."
"Home." Her mind paused in its chaos, suddenly quiet with the simple four-letter word. "Will he be there?" She didn't have to clarify who she meant.
Mac nodded, his smile reaching all corners of his face, obviously loving a happy ending. "And if you hurry now, you can just catch him before he leaves for the day."
Smiling, Emma Jones took his hand and said thank you, sincerely this time, his booming laugh chasing her as she left the office.
====o0I0o====
Emma raced up the stairs to their apartment, her pregnant belly tightening with the exercise. She wasn't sure when it had happened, maybe when she stepped into Archie's office from the hallway of time, or maybe as her steps had flown down the street, never so grateful in her life that she hadn't run across anyone she knew, since she didn't want to explain her pregnancy to anyone until he knew about it. But whenever it had happened, Emma fully understood that although both timelines had occurred, she had somehow merged with the preferred one. Emma Jamison Jones had fallen through time, lived out an adventure she had dreamed of for years, stepped into the door of time and learned exactly what her life would have been without the intervention of Killian Jones.
Her breath came in short gasps, her lungs no longer able to fill completely with her child pressing into them. She needed to slow down, but couldn't, and kept rushing ahead until she turned the corner to her hallway, coming to an abrupt halt when she saw Killian emerge from their apartment.
There was no breath to greet him, and even if there had been, she could only stare at his profile as he locked the door with one hand, holding his coffee in the other. Surprised delight crossed his features when he turned away from the door and saw her standing there.
"Ah, love, did you forget something?" He turned back to the door, almost slowly, his brow crinkling, "I could open it for..." he began, in the process of finishing his thought before he turned back to her again, blue eyes sweeping over her travel-stained leather vest, widening as they fell on the open buttons at the base, her shirted belly straining through the leather.
His eyes blinked a couple of times and his throat sounded tight. "It's… ah… been a long time since I've seen you in that," he said, an odd expression crossing his face. He stepped forward, as though to close the distance, but paused, hands dropping to his sides, his coffee tilting precariously, forgotten.
"I… I just got back," she said lamely.
"I can see that," he said quietly, watching her closely as if she might fade into thin air. "What about…" he lifted his hand into the air, pointing vaguely in the direction of Archie's office, the gesture indicating his concern about her other self, the Emma he'd been living this timeline with. Indecision coupled with the confusion of reconciling two versions of his wife filed across his features in tandem. She could relate to his difficulty—it was the same one she'd had for a good portion of their journey to get to the door of time.
"She's me," Emma stated, the two words sounding inadequate in the face of all the questions he must have.
"She's…"
"Me." Although she had finally caught her breath, her heart hadn't slowed its trip-hammering at being so close to him, and she was afraid to throw herself into his arms judging by his shocked expression and cloistered body language. He needed to understand what was happening first.
"Right."
Emma lifted a hand toward the door behind him. "Can we... go inside?"
He still looked as though he were afraid she was a ghost, and stepped away from her when she came closer, fumbling with the keys while he unlocked the door.
The hallway seemed unnaturally quiet, the tinkling keys echoing off the walls and amplifying her discomfort as she scrabbled to figure out what to tell him first. The door lock finally gave, and he moved aside again under the ruse of letting her enter first, but she recognized uneasiness when she saw it, especially coming from him.
The first thing she noticed was the smell, the smell of her family, her furniture, her life before... She inhaled deeply, the simple act of taking a breath bringing tears to her eyes as it truly sunk in that she was home. Her eyes slowly scanned the room she'd left months ago, the exact spot where Killian had kissed her goodbye, her boys' cereal bowls still sitting on the table, everything as she'd left it the morning she went for her evaluation. Which for him was just over an hour ago.
"Ah, can I get you anything, lass?" he asked, slowly closing the door behind him and sounding as though she were the last person he wanted to see.
"I hate this," she answered instead, her heart breaking over his divided loyalty to her, unable to understand she was the same Emma he had woken next to that morning.
He looked startled, lifting a hand to scratch behind his ear, not quite meeting her gaze. "Aye. I'm not quite sure..."
"What you're supposed to think right now?" she finished for him.
"Something like that."
Emma walked into the kitchen and pulled down a glass, Killian's eyes following her as though she were a stranger in his house, not yet having removed his jacket to get comfortable. Filling her glass with water, she drank thirstily, the water bottle Mac had given her not having been nearly enough.
"Are you okay?" she asked, setting the glass on the counter, suddenly feeling very tired and unequal to the task of explaining everything.
"As much as can be expected when one sees a ghost." He finally shrugged out of his jacket, not taking his eyes off her while he draped it over a dining chair and ambled over to the kitchen bar. "So are you going to enlighten me on how all this works out, or do I get to grin and bear the fact that the woman I love just left my presence, and the woman I left 300 years previous claims to have returned in her place?" He sounded slightly annoyed, not that she could blame him.
Emma walked around the counter to his side, taking a stool and perching wearily on the edge of it. "You know I left this morning for my evaluation at Archie's." His head nodded slowly, as though he wondered how she could possibly know that. "I talked to him about the story." Killian drew his brows together, listening intently.
"It came out that I didn't want you to have to continue to live with the question of what happened to your child. And..."
"And..." he prompted, although she could see the doubt marked in every line of his body.
"I wanted to live out the story with you."
His brows shot up again. "I had no idea you felt that way."
"Well, how could I not?" she answered testily. "Anyway, when I met with Archie... Archie is Mac by the way, and he asked these strange questions..." She sighed loudly, aggravated with herself. "This is coming out a jumbled mess."
She started over, noting that he didn't change his position, just continued standing there, blue eyes intent. "You sent me through the door of time 300 years ago and didn't drink the memory potion..." He nodded. "Leaving you the freedom to interact with my life." He nodded again, eyes narrowing slightly. "I remember it all, Killian. Every visit when I was a kid, growing up with Mom and Dad—Elizabeth and Jamison—falling in love with you before I was old enough to be in love. Our wedding, our boys, everything."
His mouth slowly dropped as she spoke, his body sinking into the nearest stool.
"It was only hours ago for me that I left you at the door of time. But the door wasn't just a quick trip back, Killian. It was a hall of memories. I-I saw the details of both my timelines. The last door was my evaluation with Archie this morning. And when the non-pregnant me left the office, about to fall through time..."
"You stepped into her place," he finished, and scrubbed a hand over his face, still looking as though he couldn't believe it was possible. But the gentling of his features told her he really wanted it to be.
"Yeah. Are you... are you okay with that?" she ventured.
It was as if a thousand emotions were fighting for supremacy over his face, and an idea occurred to Emma, one that would prove he had no reason to feel a divided loyalty. "I fell through time a couple of minutes ago," she said, putting her feet to the floor and standing in front of him, "and I've already met you, already traveled through months of hellish experiences without any recollection of the story that prompted the trip," she turned around, "all while wondering how I could tread as lightly as possible not to alter my blissful future." She lowered the waistband of her leather pants, his sharp intake of breath indicating he saw the tattoo of his ship, An Age Cannot Sate Love inscribed across her lower back. "I've already fallen in love with you, despite all efforts to maintain the timeline…" His hands grasped her hips and slowly spun her to face him, his features filled with wonder.
"Already allowed me to sire our child…" he continued, his grin turning cheeky, and he stretched out a hand, brushing her cheek.
As soon as his fingers contacted her skin, a bloom of energy released, and his blue eyes widened, mouth opening and closing a couple of times in astonishment.
"What happened?" she asked, almost alarmed.
"Bloody hell, Swan! I remember now. You wanted to get back to your husband and two children, Liam and Henry; I remember remarking on the peculiarity of your son sharing my brother's name. I remember your telling me about your two fathers. I never realized the Henry you spoke of was in reality Jamison. All this time. How could I have not known?"
"My guess is because it hadn't happened yet," she stated, the sudden wonder of the completed timeline causing her to search her own memory for the changes. And sure enough, they were there.
His hands cupped her cheeks, shaking slightly. "Gods, you're real! You're really here!" He stood, pulling her into his arms, pressing his face against her hair. "I didn't know if I'd ever see you again." Leaning back a little, he stretched his fingers over her belly, as if he could hold the entire expanse in one hand. "Or you," he whispered to their baby.
"Killian, I know why I was sent back, in the original timeline. I understand everything now."
He looked up from his open hand, surprised. "Do you, love?"
She nodded, throat tight at the feel of him, the smell of his freshly showered skin reminding her of a memory she'd relived several minutes ago, of a morning approximately seven months ago.
"In the original timeline, I went to see Archie for marriage counseling."
He looked at her closely. "I didn't realize you thought we needed it," he said, uncertainty passing briefly over his features.
"Our pasts were still haunting us occasionally, and Mary Margaret suggested I speak to Archie. Anyway, when I saw the memory a few minutes ago, what I was trying to say was Archie turned into Mac. And Pongo…"
"Let me guess, is Isobel," he finished. "Was Mac only impersonating Archie? Is Archie still... Archie?" He looked confused, his brow wrinkling and eyes out of focus with distraction.
"I think it was a one time thing," Emma said, knowing the words would get his attention like no other. "Doesn't matter. Anyway, when Archie—I mean Mac—asked me what one thing I would do for you above all others, I said…"
"Oh, love," he interrupted, face going slack with comprehension, "You wanted me to live without the stain of my past, is that it?"
She nodded, no longer surprised he could complete her sentences. They were so much a part of each other now, there was no other explanation.
He grabbed her again, and this time he kissed her, gentling his mouth over hers as though she were a fine rum to be savored. "I couldn't have guessed. All this time," he whispered against her mouth, breathing her in. "Gods, after all this time, Swan…"
"Hmmm?" she mumbled, completely lost to the overwhelming feelings of desire and love she had always had for this man.
"You could use a shower." He grinned and ducked back before she could push him back, drawing her own grin in the process.
"Tell me about it, captain." She reluctantly left the circle of his arms, walking down the hall to their bathroom, glancing over her shoulder to find him standing in the same place, transfixed, eyes following her as though unable to believe she was really home. "Can I talk you into not going into work today?" she called back.
"That wouldn't require any special skill, Swan," he hollered while divesting himself of his clothing.
Her vest was already off, her no-longer white shirt slipping off her shoulders. "What are you doing? You're already clean."
"I'm basking in the spoils of the adventure, love." He smirked, kicking out of his jeans and and abandoning them, moving with the speed of a man who's been denied a lot longer than he had in actuality.
They stepped into the shower together, Killian taking his time scrubbing every inch of her body with his spicy-smelling body wash, applying special care over her belly, all the while speaking sweet nothings to her and their child.
====o0I0o====
"Go on, open it," Killian urged a couple hours later, the feel of her soft curves still lingering in his hands. It had taken that long to reacquaint himself with every change in her beautiful body, and he still felt giddy with having been given the one gift he had very nearly given up hope of receiving.
They had just come from the kitchen, where he'd fixed her a large omelet with a tall glass of milk, and his Swan was now seated on the edge of their bed, looking glorious, if a bit fatigued, in a pair of his soft flannel trousers and a tank top that left the bottom three inches of her exquisite belly exposed.
"It's not my birthday," she said skeptically, the hint of a smile lighting her green eyes.
"I know, Swan, but I swear you'll approve," he expressed eagerly, sitting next to her and very nearly opening the box for her.
"Okay…" She lifted the lid, set it aside, and cried out in delighted surprise. "Killian! How did you…"
She unfolded a brand new version of her red jacket, the exact make of the one she always wore, shaking it out and holding it against her chest. Her eyes began to fill with tears as she clutched it to her chest, looking up at him in adoration.
"It was shredded in the fairies' defense lines, remember?" he offered, edging closer, running a hand over her leg, still in awe that he truly had everything he could have ever wanted.
"How could I forget? But how did you know? In this timeline? I mean, if I were returning to the other one…"
"I could only hope you would come home to me in this timeline the same way I sent you away at the door. And you did."
"I did," she agreed, and Killian was never so grateful for Mac's antics and for whatever providential design had returned his family to him. Although he may never understand the science behind their experience—and he had become quite an expert in particle physics—he found it didn't signify, and he captured her face between his hands and kissed her again, reveling in the magic and wonder of true love.
====o0I0o====
Two months later, Killian and Emma welcomed their daughter, Ellen Elizabeth Jones, named after Jamison's wife and Mrs. Fritz, a tribute to the amazing women who could claim the kind of selflessness it takes to raise children not their own.
Life continued as before, the simple ups and downs of every day lending excitement through the adventure of life. On their tenth anniversary, they had their rings engraved to match their tattoos, his ring with "An age cannot sate love", hers with "Neither can eternity extinguish it." They would welcome two more children before Emma declared herself officially "done", Margaret Caitlyn Jones and Iona Abigail Jones.
With five high-spirited children and one gorgeous wife, Killian decided his family had most definitely landed all together in that tiny bottle, floating blissfully on the ocean of life.
====o0I0o====
Our universe unfailingly adheres to laws at work in and around us. Time is one such system that always marches forward at the same pace, regardless of our experience of it or the many attempts to thwart its passage or lessen its impact on our lives.
Our destiny is entangled in the experience of time, and not something we can outrun. Who we are alters slightly as we maneuver through experiences, but who we are meant to be never wavers, and always finds a way to manifest itself.
Humankind is fascinated with the concepts of redemption and happy endings, miracles embodying a unifying factor in each.
And what is true love if not a miracle in and of itself, making redemption possible amidst the impossible.
Thank you all so much for taking this yearlong journey with me! Your support and encouragement make writing fanfiction worth every second. Please show your love to the writers nominated for the CS awards on tumblr—I'd love to know about your beginnings—and review often (it's the crack we live on!) Cheers! ~DD