2020 has started off with a bang for me so this chapter got just a little bit delayed - and ran a little longer than I had originally plotted with the addition of a previously unplanned scene. With this being the next to last chapter, there are a handful of surprises left to reveal.
Thank you to everyone who has given me encouragement along the way! I hope you'll enjoy these last 2 chapters as this tale draws to a close.
It was just a kiss.
Emma kept that mantra swirling through her head as she anxiously hovered at Killian's bedside trying to muster the courage to press her lips to his. Her sight was locked on his face, staring down at his stubbled jawline and dimpled cheeks before allowing her gaze to drift upward to his closed eyes. She'd not previously noticed how unfairly long and full his eyelashes were. Two coats of mascara and she couldn't even come close to that natural lushness… Of course, she'd much rather be staring into the intense blueness(was that even a word?)that lay beneath - irises the hue of the sea he loved so much. And just like the sea, it would be so easy to find herself lost in his stare…
She'd felt a connection with this man the moment they'd met, but she hadn't imagined that the future of their brief, still-evolving relationship wound hinge on a kiss. Oh hell, who was she kidding? Everything hinged on this single kiss and the weight of all it entailed was a lot to bear. This kiss would control their destiny - his as well as hers - and just the thought of something potentially going wrong was terrifying.
"It's just a kiss," Regina casually reminded her from across the room, her tone seemingly mocking Emma's mantra, although unintentionally.
"Easy for you to say," Emma replied in a huff. "You're not the one who's going to lose her powers or condemn a man to endless sleep if this goes wrong…"
"Do you believe that he's your true love?" Regina queried.
"That's really a loaded question to ask about someone I've known a week."
"You were the one who cast the spell…" Regina quipped sarcastically which garnered her a side-eyed glare from her cousin.
"Thank you for the reminder," Emma scoffed. "I mean, there's definitely a spark, but…"
"But what? Does he look at you the same way David looks at Mary Margaret?"
"I think so."
"Do you find yourself losing track of time when you're with him? Like nothing and no one else matters?"
Emma didn't respond right away as she thought about the lengthy conversations she and Killian had engaged in and how comfortable and welcomed she'd felt while in his presence. Her memory reminded her of the panic she'd experienced upon learning he'd gone missing and of her determination to find him… And then she knew - she'd fallen fast and hard for Killian Jones.
"Yeah... Yeah, I do," Emma responded at last as her fingertips tenderly ghosted across Killian's hand before she grasped hold of his fingers and gave them a reassuring squeeze.
"Then your heart already knows what your head might not have figured out yet," Regina stated. "Now, will you please just lean in there and kiss him so you can put an end to these spells and beat that damned wizard at his own games?"
Just a kiss, Emma's brain chimed in again. It's only a kiss.
"Oh, what the hell…," Emma exclaimed with a shrug. "Here goes nothing…" She slowly lowered her chin towards Killian's slumbering face, pausing for a second or two that could have been an eternity to her weary mind. Why was she hesitating? She knew she had real feelings for Killian and was sure they were reciprocated but to find herself putting everything on the line so soon in their blossoming relationship seemed so ludicrous… But she was also reminded that she'd gotten herself into this and she'd run out of options. She couldn't think it enough: Everything - everything - rested on their kiss.
She traced her index finger along his scruffy jaw as her lips inched closer to his. The tips of their noses brushed as she lined up for the kiss. She'd had only a little time to imagine what kissing Killian Jones was going to be like, never quite expecting that it would be so one-sided. His lips were surprisingly warm and soft, maybe not as responsive as she would have liked...
But she certainly couldn't deny the spark - the knee-buckling, toe-tingling flash that coursed through her body and even seemed to shake the entire room. She felt momentarily blinded as if a bolt of lightning had struck her down from the heavens. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced. Was this what true love felt like or was this merely the universe stripping her of all of her magical powers for being a fool?
She tried to look down at Killian to find out if his eyes were opening, but all she could see was an encroaching cloud that was black as soot. She thought she could see his eyelids flicker before the cloud enveloped them, leading her to wonder if she'd just unleashed some torrential storm upon them.
Awakening as if struck by that same unseen bolt of lightning Emma thought she'd felt, Killian's eyelids flew open. His body attempted to jolt upright, impeded only by the searing pain from his injured shoulder that sent a shock through his upper body. He had no idea where he was or how he'd gotten here, but he immediately knew that he was no longer in the dark, locked room. This room was bright and stank of disinfectant rather than mildewed concrete. He woke seeing a flash of blonde hair and the remnants of a dissipating cloud of grey smoke which only heightened his disorientation.
"Emma?" he called out, his voice hampered by a dry, scratchy throat. He was certain it had been her golden locks he'd seen. Despite no one being directly in his line of sight, he still sensed someone was nearby.
"Afraid not, Captain Jones," a woman's voice replied, but it wasn't Emma. Killian raised his chin and shifted slightly to his right to see a brunette standing near the window - and she might have been as bewildered as he was right now. "You… you just missed her…" Regina continued, at a loss for what else to say. She was still struggling to make sense of what had just happened. Captain Jones was awake, which could only have occurred if Emma's kiss had been one of true love. She'd witnessed a blast of light that had nearly knocked her off of her stiletto heels, but then that cloud had engulfed the room - a manifestation of pure, dark magic that shook her to the core - and Emma had vanished. Regina had no idea what had happened to Emma and definitely had no idea what to tell the confounded Captain before her.
"Just missed her?" Killian repeated, brows knitting in confusion as he winced, allowing his aching body to settle back against the pillows. "What?" His brain was tired and nothing was making any sense, least of all this unknown woman standing a few feet from him. "Where the bloody hell am I?" he asked in frustration, now alert enough to realize he was partially exposed by the drafty, thin garment he wore. "And what the devil am I wearing?"
"Storybrooke hospital," Regina answered flatly, "which should explain your current attire. You've been here since this morning when Emma and her brother, Sheriff Nolan, rescued you from the basement of some old cabin out in the forest."
"The dark room…," Killian recalled with an audible, pained sigh.
"What exactly do you remember?" Regina pressed, hoping to gain clues from his experience, but Killian wasn't sure how much he wanted to open up to this stranger.
"Bits and pieces," he replied, unconsciously tucking his truncated left arm beneath the bedcovers as he countered her questioning with a few of his own. "I believe you have me at a bit of a disadvantage though. It appears you know who I am, but I don't believe we've been properly introduced… It would also be nice to learn why you're here and where Emma might be…"
"I'm Regina Mills," she replied, defensively at first, as though offended that he didn't know her identity. "I'm may…" She started to give her title of Mayor, but halted herself and softened her tone. "I'm Emma's cousin. She invited me here to help figure out what had happened to you. Long story short, she just woke you from a sleeping spell with a kiss of true love but then…, then she disappeared. I honestly have no idea where she's gone."
"Then I should assist in finding her," Killian stated, pushing himself into a sitting position and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. One bare foot reached the tile floor before Regina stopped him, brandishing her wand in her right hand.
"No, Captain - you need to lie back down in that bed until Dr. Whale gives you a clear bill of health. You've been under that sleeping spell for at least a day and you have a hole in your shoulder. You're not going anywhere right now. We have ways we can locate Emma just like she found you and I don't need a wounded man getting in my way and screwing things up."
"Are you giving me orders? I'm generally the one who gives the orders," he grumbled, still sitting defiantly.
"Well, right now, you are being given an order. Lie back down in that bed and stay put or I'll put a barrier spell around that bed to keep you there." She tapped the wand against her left palm to show she wasn't bluffing, awaiting his response.
"Yes, ma'am…," he relented, reclining back in the bed unhappily, but obediently. "Just find Emma."
"I will," she promised. "Now, you just relax and stay put while I try to figure out what the hell is going on."
As the smoke enveloping her dissipated, it was clear to Emma that she was no longer in Killian's hospital room. Honestly, she wasn't sure if she was even still in Storybrooke. She didn't have the slightest idea what had just happened or where she might be. She'd heard about teleportation but it wasn't something she'd ever witnessed. Regina had once admitted to unsuccessfully experimenting with it, but admittedly, few witches possessed the powers necessary to teleport a human. Wherever she was and however she'd arrived here, it had been through the use of powers far more advanced than her own.
Powers like those belonging to a trickster.
Now she needed to pull herself together and think this through. Like Regina had insisted, she'd kissed Killian Jones, believing him to be her true love. But before she'd been able to confirm whether it was true or not, she'd been inexplicably whisked away from him. It was nearly a parallel to what her mother had described in her journal. Her mother had witnessed the man she believed to be her true love vanish in a puff of smoke while Emma had just been unexpectedly torn away from the man she felt was hers. She had no idea whether Killian had awakened from the spell and she'd yet to have an opportunity to test her powers. She needed her head to stop spinning so she could think clearly. Damn, unplanned teleportation travel was quite disorienting - and maybe just a little bit nauseating.
Her eyes darted left and right searching for something - anything - recognizable beyond the remnants of the smoky haze. Storybrooke's battered, but iconic clock tower loomed on the horizon to her left giving her some comfort in the fact that she hadn't left town. She did realize that she was viewing it from an unfamiliar angle. Instead of looking up at it, it was straight in front of her.
Was she on a rooftop?
She couldn't be certain which building it was and there was no way she was going to move any closer to the edge to find out. She breathed a sigh of relief knowing she was still in Storybrooke. If she was going to be facing off with some maniacal demigod, at least it would be on her home turf. She had to believe that Regina had seen her disappear and was already on the phone with David. Soon, the whole town would be hunting for her. This bastard wasn't going to win. She was done with the lies and the games.
The sun had already dipped below the horizon, leaving her at a disadvantage when a silhouette emerged from the shadows. She wasn't surprised by the revelation she wasn't alone on this rooftop. She already had a very good idea who it was and she was fairly certain she knew what it was. After all, she'd spent the entire afternoon devouring books and online articles researching what she might be contending with. She was ready for it - not that she was expecting a fair fight.
"Hello Walsh," she greeted the dark figure opposite her. "Or would you prefer Ozmund? Maybe Loki…? Is that an old name you like? Just tell me - what is this? Another stupid game?"
"Ozmund… I haven't heard that name in a few years…," he mused, taking a few steps toward her to close the distance between them. "Ah, my wizard phase… Brings back some memories… Now, I suppose I should ask how you figured out it was me."
Her eyes followed his movement, wanting to slap the lopsided smirk from his face as his features came into view. "You shouldn't have targeted someone who's used to investigating," she replied. "You kept doing too many things that had me questioning and when I start asking questions, I have to find answers.
He chuffed at her response. "I suppose I underestimated your tenacity. The bail bonds girl that I met back in Boston was certainly a very different person than the deputy sheriff I found here in Storybrooke."
"That lonely girl found her way home. She found where she belonged and who she was supposed to be."
"A wannabe witch?" Walsh laughed.
"I am a witch! And a deputy sheriff. And a sister. What the hell are you? You're no warlock. A warlock wouldn't have bothered with such silly games... Damnit, why did you target me?"
"I've gone through many incarnations, including my aforementioned wizard era…"
"Wizard? I hope Toto pissed on you…," she muttered under her breath.
"What was that?" he asked, not having heard her off-the-cuff comment.
"Nothing. I was just waiting for your answer. I want to know why I'm here, you son of a bitch! I don't know what made you pick me to play your challenge, but I won. I identified my true love and it wasn't you! I beat you! So tell me - why the hell am I up here on this damned rooftop with you? The game's over."
"Are you absolutely sure you won?" he questioned in an attempt to instill doubt in her mind. "Your mother was so sure of herself too. She had every magical advantage available to her and still chose wrong. You're just a novice - so easy to tempt with that love spell. I knew that lonely girl back in Boston… I just needed to get close enough to you for you to develop feelings for me back then. Just had to plant the thought for you to discover yourself - your past. I needed you to return to Storybrooke and discover your powers. As Ava Blanchard's only child, I was hoping your magic would rival hers. I don't understand why you prefer such a mundane existence when you come from such an impressive family of witches."
"Maybe that's because I don't need magic to be happy. It is a part of me that I was curious about, but it doesn't define me. All I care about right now is that I won. You tipped your hand when you stole my mother's journal. What were you afraid of? That she'd left clues? You stooped so low as to kidnap your rival and put him under a sleeping spell just to create a damned diversion?" Her hands clenched into fists at her hip as she spoke, desire to punch Walsh in the face increasing with every word that crossed her lips. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't connect the dots? Maybe my mundane existence as a deputy sheriff helped me put everything together. Did you think you destroyed the photographs you took off of the mantle? The photographs of Ursula and of my mother - and of course the photograph of me taken in Boston…"
"You weren't supposed to find those," he shrugged.
"Then perhaps you shouldn't have locked up Killian in your root cellar in the first place!"
"So, what are you going to do about it?" he taunted as he invaded her personal space. "If you know what I am, do you really think you can beat me?"
"I already did beat you, Walsh, or whatever the hell your name is. I won the challenge so now you can keep your end of the deal and get the hell outta my town!"
Walsh shook his head and chuckled at her. "I suppose you've been fed the old story on how I made a deal to share my powers with the town in exchange for the right to challenge witches to a duel for their powers… Do you really think it was that simple? I'm not the villain you think I am, Emma. Your great-great grandfather wasn't exactly the patron saint of magical beings that he professed to be either."
"And I'm supposed to believe you? You stalked me in Boston… You lied to me… Hell, you lied to my mother! You made her fall in love with you and then you stole her magic. Do you think she was ever the same?"
"I may not have been her true love, but you don't think I had feelings for Ava? You don't think it hurt me? I did what I did for survival…"
Emma scoffed at his attempted explanation. "Survival? You're a damned demigod! What do you know about survival?"
"I may be immortal, but I'm no demigod… Your ancestor managed to trick me into giving up a huge portion of my magic and it weakened me so much that it tethered me to this town. Those challenges were my way of getting some of my magic back."
"So, someone tricked the trickster?" There was a degree of irony here that amused her. "Still makes you an asshole. You targeted innocent women and fooled them into trusting you so you could steal their magic. There's no defense for that, Walsh! And don't try to fool me - we met in Boston. You couldn't have been tethered to Storybrooke if you were running a business in Boston!"
"You don't have to believe me, but you are descended from someone far more evil than I'll ever be. The magic I procured from your mother strengthened me enough to leave. I traveled around a bit amongst the mortals and finally, settled in Boston. At least it reminded me a bit of the old world..."
"So I'm supposed to believe that after all of this? Us meeting in Boston was accidental?"
"Believe what you want to believe, but yes, it was entirely by chance. I saw you and instantly knew you were Ava's daughter. You're the spitting image of her and I had to believe that odds were your magic would be as strong as hers. I just had to get you to go back to Storybrooke, but strangely enough, you found your way back before I could even come up with a plan."
"I don't care, Walsh," she stated, giving him a forceful shove away from her. "This ends now. The games, the challenges - they're over. If you can leave Storybrooke - then leave!"
"I can't do that just yet. I don't have enough magic to return to my own realm. The Blanchard family possesses the most powerful magic in this realm and you were the most vulnerable of the Blanchard descendants. You just didn't find out until after you cast the little spell I planted for you that you were part of the founding family." Walsh ignored her protest and forced his way into her personal space again. "I'm really sorry, Emma. It's nothing personal, but I need your magic. Give it to me voluntarily and I won't need to hurt anyone. Not everything can be fixed with a kiss of true love…"
The evening skies darkened and a menacing mist descended from the heavens as Emma stared into the soulless eyes of her former lover. How had she misjudged him this badly? She'd always believed she had an innate ability to sense someone was lying to her but maybe that wasn't the case… How many people she thought she could trust had been keeping secrets from her? And not small secrets either. Maybe she wasn't the person she'd thought she was…
"No, Walsh," she replied. "I may not be some super powerful witch, but I'm not giving up my magic without a fight."
"So be it," he shrugged. His eyes took on an unearthly glow, yellowish at first then morphing into fiery orange and blood red. A lamp near the building's stairwell sparked and then exploded in a shower of tiny glass shards as Walsh's true nature made itself known.
Emma's feet scrambled in attempt to back away but his fingers latched onto her wrist and held tight. "Let go of me!" she demanded, wriggling herself free of his grasp as she stumbled backward. "I don't know what I ever saw in you, Walsh, but this is it! Get away from me!"
Her clenched fists no longer felt as if they were a part of her body as the pent-up anger within her exploded in a blast of brilliance that drove the trickster back several steps. She stared in disbelief at her balled fists while Walsh staggered and shifted his balance, both of them visibly stunned by Emma's newfound reactive powers. He tried to downplay his surprise and re-establish his dominance before she realized what she'd done.
"Well, well… That was a nice little parlor trick…," Walsh taunted, determined to keep her off guard. "Of course, I don't even think you could do that again if you tried…"
Emma unfurled her fingers and flexed them a few times, an unfamiliar tingle seemingly just beneath the surface of her skin. What had she just done? She could only recall growing angry when Walsh manhandled her and the emotion had simply burst from somewhere within. She'd watched Regina and Zelena conjure fireballs in the palms of their hands and of course, she'd practiced doing the same, but this - this was an entirely new sensation. This was magic she hadn't known existed until now. Pure magic she'd conjured straight from…
From where?
Not from a dusty old spellbook or some centuries old potion. No, this had absolutely come from within her. Her own energy had formulated this power in response to her own ire.
Could she do it again?
"Do you want me to try that again?" she responded to his challenge. "I think I finally figured out the piece I've been missing… Magic doesn't come from a book or a potion or a wand. My magic comes from inside of me. I don't know why it took me all these months to figure that out…" She squeezed her eyes closed as she focused her fury on Walsh once again. Warmth spread through her fingers as a gold-tinged glow emanated from her ivory skin. When her eyelids opened, her irises darkened, gilded sparks appearing to blend with her natural olivine and emerald hues.
And Emma Swan wasn't about to pull any punches. A second burst of energy nearly toppled her over, but succeeded in sending Walsh diving for cover. This little novice witch wasn't playing anymore.
"So that's how you want to play?" Walsh growled with a vindictive sneer. "You have no idea what you're doing."
And in truth, she didn't, but fate intervened and brought her an ally. A third, silhouetted figure had joined them on the rooftop and while she'd no idea how this person had gotten up there or even when they'd appeared, Walsh was visibly irritated by the intruders presence.
"You're not needed here!" He shouted at the figure obscured in the shadows. "This is between me and the witch!"
"You'll have to pardon the interruption, Dearie," the figure spoke up. She didn't recognize the almost impish, mocking voice, but Walsh clearly did. "I just stopped by to ensure a fair fight." The figure let out a slightly sinister giggle? as it vanished as stealthily as it had appeared. Emma stood her ground, bewildered for a second, until an object materialized on her right index finger - the garnet-capped signet ring that had been tucked away in her mother's little box. And then a disembodied voice whispered in her ear: Focus the talisman and turn the trickster's game back onto him.
Not noticing the trinket now adorning Emma's hand, Walsh lashed out against her. A ruby red shield immediately appeared before her, deflecting his magic as she retaliated in defense. The entire rooftop was alight with a blinding flash and Emma sunk to her knees, drained of all energies and fearful she'd just lost the battle. As the spots faded from her vision, she fought to regain her composure and get back on her feet, but Walsh was nowhere in sight.
He wouldn't relinquish his chance to gloat, she thought as she surveyed the roof, finding no one else around. Both Walsh and the shadowy figure with the disconcerting voice were gone yet she wasn't entirely alone.
Resting on the floor roughly twenty feet from her was a stuffed toy monkey with glowing crimson eyes that gradually faded to black.
