Killian felt numb.

In part due to being chased for what felt like an hour, and was he getting bloody sick of that.

He failed.

Without that memory potion, there was no way to unlock Emma's memory. Not without Regina to undo her spell, and Regina was one of the people Emma needs to bloody save.

Killian found himself back in the alley beside Emma's building. He'd sunk down to the ground, half his flask empty within seconds.

Bloody hero he was.

How in all the realms was he supposed to convince her now? Now that she thought him insane, and something about that restraining order, which only brought forth an image of himself in chains somewhere. Sounds like Swan, he mused humorlessly, taking another draw from the flask.

His mind raced for a new strategy. But everything he came up with—even getting Emma to go back to Baelfire's living quarters. But if Emma thought him this stalker type, then she'd simply assume he'd found that information about her as well, or planted whatever she found there.

Killian needed to make the most distrustful person in all the realms believe in something without proof, and he was beginning to think it was impossible.

Why couldn't the bloody kiss have worked?

His eyes opened.

That pain, that agonizing pain in his chest resurfacing.

How could he feel this strongly about a woman, and not have it be True Love?

He hadn't even ever felt this desperately lovesick over Milah.

Killian took another swig of the rum, letting it burn down his throat.

He tried to ignore the burn itching behind his eyes, and blamed it on the alcohol.

But the truth was, without that potion, nothing except magic would prove anything to her, not when this damned realm was so sure that anything out of the ordinary could be explained through ordinary means. And where was he supposed to find magic in The Land Without Magic?

Frustration and hopelessness built and he shut his eyes.

Well, this restraining order be damned.

He was going to wait until she returned from wherever she was, and he was going to try again until something worked.

A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.

He doesn't deserve her, but dammit he was going to fight for all she was bloody worth.

The walk back to her apartment was long and awkward.

Really awkward.

"Emma?"

Walsh gave her a little smile and she looked up, torn from her thoughts.

More specifically, the ring-shaped box that was in his pants' pocket.

Ring still inside.

He proposed.

Walsh had stood there in a suit, bent at his knee in the middle of the restaurant, and Emma hadn't even bothered to go home to change into something date-appropriate before showing up, since her case ran way later than she'd planned.

But seeing that ring, in his hands, something still felt out of place, and it wasn't just her wardrobe.

The moment she saw that ring, everything inside her froze. She knew in that instant why Henry had arranged his own sleepover at his friend's house and gave her that strange smile before he left the apartment.

"Yeah?" she replied in a mumble, walking numbly next to him.

"Can we… talk about this?"

They were only a block away from her apartment now. She stopped walking, turning to look at him. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

He smiled that kind smile of his. "No need to be sorry. I guess this wasn't the best sort of… surprise."

Emma took a breath. "I do…" Emma hesitated, disliking her choice of words immediately. "I… It's not that I don't love you," she said quickly. "It's just… a little... fast."

Neal had left her over ten years ago, and Emma had sworn off men ever since.

But Walsh…

He pursued her, the moment he caught her eye. He didn't give up, no matter how much she kept him at arm's length. He seemed to want her so genuinely, and want to be around her as much as humanly possible.

No one has been that way with her before. Not since…

Emma shook herself, ridding herself of painful memories.

She'd been seeing Walsh for eight months, but… seeing was taking it lightly. Her armor was a thick wall, and it was wearing away slightly—in no small part to how hard he was trying to knock it down, however patient he was trying to be—but… she'd just opened up enough to tell him she loved him back. Mostly because he kept saying it, and she kept feeling guilty for not saying it.

She still didn't know if she could let him all the way in.

But he seemed to want her, so badly.

Emma hasn't had that in so long.

To be wanted... it felt so...

Emma shook herself, too afraid to even let herself feel the emotion that came with the notion.

For him to propose when she was still trying to figure out if she'd rather bolt or say I love you and mean it?

At this point, Emma wasn't even sure if she'd be ready after eight years.

Emma must have been lost in her thoughts for a while, because Walsh let out a little sigh.

"All I know," said Walsh, "is that I want to spend my life with you. I want to marry you, Emma. I love you."

Her brows crinkled.

"Perhaps there's a man you love in the life you forgot."

Emma shut her eyes, that stalker's words playing in her head again. She hadn't seen him for the rest of the day, thankfully, but he'd been distracting her regardless. The guy thought he was the infamous cartoon Captain Hook. Who knew what was in that bottle that he wanted her to drink?

And what kind of crazy person had the right to be that… symmetrical?

"Emma…?"

Emma blinked, realizing she'd zoned out again. "Sorry…" she said, then smiled inwardly at a good idea for an excuse. "Look, Walsh, today might just not have been the best day to spring this on me. It's been a... weird day."

"Weird how?" he asked, tilting his head, something unidentifiable in his eyes.

Emma shook her head at the ridiculousness of it, saying, "This… guy showed up at my door this morning claiming to be—get this—Captain Hook." She looked at him, a bewildered half-smile on her face. "He was even dressed like a pirate. Had a hook for a hand and everything. He cornered me in the park afterward and tried telling me all this crazy stuff, about curses and other alternate universes where Disney movies were real." She shook her head, dismissing it all. When Emma saw a strange look flit over Walsh's face, she said with a little wince, "I guess it just distracted me a little today."

"Captain Hook," repeated Walsh slowly.

"Yeah," said Emma. "Trying to convince me I needed to break some curse or something."

Walsh looked away from her. "I guess we're going to have to do this the hard way, then."

Emma's brows kneaded. His tone changed sharply.

Almost… angry.

"What's… wrong?" she asked slowly. "Walsh, what are you talking about?"

Walsh lifted his eyes to hers, face shadowed in something that looked nothing like the man she's known for the past eight months, making Emma's eyes widen and something in her chest clench. He took a step toward her, making her stumble back. "I was sent here to keep an eye on you. To make sure you didn't cause trouble." His eyes flashed. "So I'll just have to make sure you'll stay out of trouble." He smiled coldly. "It's too bad; I actually sort of liked you."

"What are you talking about?!" exclaimed Emma, jerking back when he lunged toward her.

What the actual hell?

"Walsh," she said in a small voice, but this was not the man she knew.

That man was a lie.

Emma stumbled back another step, falling off the sidewalk curb to the ground. And suddenly, Walsh let loose a roar that rivaled a beast with rabies and she watched with wide eyes, frozen, as his body mutated, clothes ripping apart, frame growing twice in size until a winged beast stood in his place.

Emma blinked in utter shock, muscles locking with paralyzing fear.

This had to be a dream.

It couldn't be real.

Walsh—the beast—roared again, the sound an ear-splitting screech. Emma stumbled back, tears springing her eyes from the sound, heart pounding in her chest. Whatever the beast was, it had wings, and feral teeth that looked razor sharp and fury in its eyes, directed at her.

...Perhaps she should have said yes.