Killian gave Emma's shoulder yet another gentle shake. "Swan. Emma."

Still, after what felt like several long moments of trying to wake her, she was still out cold.

He winced at his own wording.

Emma was unconscious, and it was bloody freezing in here.

Two things that did not mix well.

He felt his own fear itching in his veins, praying that David will find a way to convince the ice witch to free them. But to find a missing person? That didn't sound like a quick errand. Killian has had his fair share of near-hypothermic experiences sailing some of the most arctic waters in the realms—the worst of which when he'd ended up falling overboard as a child—and Neverland's weather could fluctuate quite dangerously. But just because he survived them didn't mean he felt like cutting it close for another time.

His worried gaze on Emma, he also, more than anything, didn't want her to get anywhere close to such a fate.

He could see her shivering hard.

He himself was only just beginning to feel a constant tremor from the cold, but in an instant he knew why it wasn't affecting him as much.

So, without hesitation, he took off his coat.

He felt the temperature of the room instantly.

It was a painful kind of cold, something that made the very air hurt to breathe, and his whole body shuddered the moment he felt the brunt of it. With his coat, it was something he could ignore for the most part, but feeling it without the heavy protection—

His need to get the coat on Emma only intensified.

Carefully, Killian lifted Emma's back and shoulders off the ground, sitting her up against his chest. He had no time to enjoy the feeling of being so close to her; despite the movement, she still didn't wake, even after another light shake and speaking her name.

Trying to keep his own worry at bay, Killian slipped Emma's arms into the sleeves of his jacket, no small feat with the true use of only one hand, especially when he was beginning to lose feeling in his fingers.

He cursed the damn Crocodile for what felt like the millionth time in his long life.

Now with her firmly wrapped in his jacket, he felt Emma's shivers wane, her tremors slowing as his own picked up. But he smiled, even when the cold made it shake, because knowing she was warmer was plenty reward.

He took half a second to feel Emma wrapped in his arms.

To really feel her.

Her back against his chest.

Her head on his shoulder.

How she seemed to fit, like she was made to lie in his arms like this.

He never even felt such a thing with Milah.

It stunned him for a moment.

Milah, she was… she was strong and she was a force of nature in her own right, which was so intriguing.

But Emma?

She was an utter enigma, as much of an open book to him as one written in a language he didn't know. She was as strong-willed and resilient as Milah, but Emma was just as much broken and terrified and innocent and Killian couldn't help feeling like looking into her eyes was like looking into a mirror. He's never met someone who was such a mix of grace and strength, love and damage.

He's never met someone so much like him.

And holding her just felt…

Right.

An awake Emma would be pulling away in a moment's notice. Yet here, he could almost imagine what it would be like to wake up to her every morning.

But when the cold made another tremor shudder through him, he was sharply brought back to the cold, harsh reality that if David wasn't quick enough, this would be the first and the last time he would ever have the privilege to hold Emma Swan.

Killian looked around the cave.

Not one to leave his well being in the hands of others, though Emma had begun to be the exception, Killian wasn't going to just sit around and let himself and Emma freeze without at least trying to free them himself. It didn't exactly seem likely—the ice looked feet thick all around, and the fact that it was created with bloody magic meant it was probably far stronger than regular elemental ice in the first place.

Which was just splendid.

But that didn't mean he wasn't going to bloody try to knock the damn thing down.

He's not one to balk at the idea of doing the impossible.

Being incredibly mindful of his hook, Killian shifted Emma in his arms so that he could lift her. His left arm under her knees, his right around her back, he slowly stood, cursing when he nearly slipped on the ice.

"Bloody—" breathed Killian, halting halfway to his feet, nearly dropping Emma when plenty of aches made themselves known. The frigid air had done well to numb whatever injuries that he'd sustained, but the movement had woken them plenty.

Forcing himself to ignore it, clenching his teeth, he rose to his height, Emma firmly in his arms. He couldn't even exactly pinpoint where he hurt; the cold had taken the edge off of feeling. But he knew with a certainty that once he warmed up, he was going to have quite the rude awakening.

He carried Emma a few yards away, cursing under his breath when each step hurt somewhere in his midsection—how many times can he break the same ribs over and over again?—sitting her up against part of the ice wall. He carefully situated her so she wouldn't fall, flipping up the collar of his coat to protect her head from touching the frozen wall. With one more attempt to rouse her, that was ultimately as unsuccessful as every other, Killian let out a concerned white cloud of frustration and worry. He closed his coat around her as much as he could, tucking her hands beneath the material.

Killian stood back up, and returned to where there used to be an opening. Taking a breath, he hacked his hook at the wall.

It was like striking stone.

Pain reverberated up his arm, and he cringed, grabbing at his shoulder. Grimacing, he tried again, harder.

He barely scratched the surface.

Killian let his throbbing arm fall to his side.

He tried the same tactic in at least ten different parts of the cave walls, yet every attempt was the same.

It was fruitless.

He stared at the scratch he made in the wall, the tiny flakes of ice he'd freed, then the wall in its entirety.

He shut his eyes, breathing out, his breath white.

They were trapped.

Completely, utterly trapped.

Their lives firmly in the prince's hands.

Killian sighed, feeling the now-violent tremors wracking him to a point he couldn't ignore. Blinking heavily, Killian shook himself, trying to chase away the sudden onslaught of tiredness.

If he and Emma were going to stand a chance, they were going to have to do it together.

He felt the muted sting in his abdomen with every step, making him wince. The cold was both his enemy and his friend at the moment, keeping most of his pain numb, though forcing himself to walk back to where the talking device was felt nearly impossible. His legs felt strangely weak. But, somehow, he made it, grabbing the device off the ground after more than one attempt with his numb fingers and he returned back to where Emma was what felt like a lifetime later, his head spinning.

Cold.

He was so bloody cold.

He's never, ever been this horribly cold.

Killian leaned heavily against the wall beside Emma.

In a more graceless movement than he would have preferred, he sank to the ground beside her. Forcing himself to blink away the tiredness spreading through him as quickly as the cold, Killian shook Emma's shoulder. Unable to mask the urgency in his voice, he gasped, "Emma."

But still, her eyes were shut.

Getting even more worried, Killian tried not to let his fear consume him.

She would be all right.

She had to be.

Even if he didn't make it through this, she had to.

"Damn it, Swan," he whispered half-heartedly, his voice shaking with the tremors that shook his whole body. His hand on her shoulder was shaking visibly. He couldn't feel it anymore, which after having lost his left hand, was nothing short of a terrifying sensation. He could see the smaller trembles coming from Emma, but much of her cold being kept at bay by his coat, and he thanked the heavens for that.

Body heat.

Killian sighed, slipping his trembling arm behind Emma's back, pulling her to his chest, briefly wondering what her reaction would be if she woke up in his arms. But he already knew without hesitation that even if she yelled at or hit him for it, he'd welcome it graciously because damn it, she needed to wake up.

With much effort—for it would be far more doable with two hands (and the one he had hardly even still had feeling)—he managed to pull Emma over him, so that she was lying on top of him, off the icy floor of the cave.

He could already feel the burn of the ice beneath and behind him from everything touching, his clothes—his pants, shirt and vest at this point—hardly helping keep the cold away from him. He held Emma tightly, her back to his chest, feeling a bit of her own warmth spread to him, eliciting a relieved breath from him. His arms crossed tightly over her waist, shaking hard from the cold, and he sighed in relief when he managed to get his hand under the folds of his jacket.

Her body heat had given the jacket plenty of warmth. His fingers burned sharply as feeling returned, but it was so blissful he could hardly care. He could feel just how warm his coat managed to keep her, and he was nothing short of grateful that he'd worn it, and that he was here with her. He couldn't even fathom the thought of her here by herself, suffering alone in the cold.

But the longer she was unconscious, the more terrified he became.

It had to have been less than half an hour since they'd been trapped in here, and yet the cold was already affecting him terribly. The fatigue felt like a horrible fog in his head. The idea that David could complete such a mission in such a tight time frame felt impossible. Killian was already fighting the intense pull to sleep.

Killian was becoming more and more sure that he wasn't walking out of here today.

He was going to die here.

That thought alone chilled him more than the damn room.

Why the bloody hell did it have to be when she'd just begun to want him?

He shut his eyes, and something hot—one of the only warm sensations in this hellhole—burned behind his eyes.

He opened his eyes, looking at the woman in his arms.

Even if he was to die, Emma would not.

She had to make it through.

She had to.

He held her tighter, trying to will as much of his warmth into her as he could, ensuring again that his coat was wrapped around her as tightly as possible.

"Swan," he whispered to her, where her head lay over his chest. "Wake up, love," he said, his voice trembling from cold and desperation. When she still remained quiet, he shut his eyes, resting his face in her hair, feeling the icy chill to her exposed skin, sending cold fear through him.

"Emma," he whispered. "Please." he broke out, holding her still form tighter to him and begging to every god of every realm that he will not lose her tonight.