A/N: Thank you for the support once again, it is always appreciated.
To the guest reviewer, I'm sure then that you'll be glad to know that Neal only has a minor role in this story.
Warning: This chapter contains a flashback (written in italics) in which there is a brief minor reference to some dark thoughts.
Three
Dark-Knight Facility, Maine, 2029
Dark-Knight was destroyed, the machines had dropped lifelessly to the ground and, for the first time in forever, the Resistance soldiers had something they could really celebrate. Cheers erupted around the clearing after distasteful kicks of the dropped machines confirmed they were really offline.
"It's not over yet," The General snapped out, uncharacteristically short. The cheers died out immediately.
Killian glanced at her in concern. He knew it wasn't over. Unlike the celebrating soldiers, he had heard her proclaim that Dark-Knight had used the final weapon moments before their defeat. His concern was fuelled by whatever the final weapon was. The threat it posed had the General on edge and irritable. She looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. In fairness, she'd had it on her shoulders since she was a child but she'd never let it show before. It was unsettling, observing how much the final weapon affected her.
"Mills!" The General flung herself into orders, "I need eyes-on the weapon immediately. The hangar at the back of the building. Gather a unit and get to it…"
As the General flew into a series of orders, Killian began to make his way back towards the outhouse. He needed to check on Smee's condition and he wanted to investigate further into the augmentation plans they had happened upon inside. The destruction of Dark-Knight should have destroyed any potential threats but he needed confirmation.
"Jones!" The General called out, stopping him in his tracks. He turned to face her. Her eyes were locked on him, an unreadable expression on her face. "Where are you going? I need you with me."
"Ma'am, I have a man down in there," Killian informed her, nodding towards the outhouse. "I need to check on him."
"Whale's with him," the General revealed that she had seen it all unfold, "he'll be fine."
"The outhouse. Dark-Knight were experimenting with human augmentation," Killian filled her in. "I need to check on the status of those who were being experimented upon."
"Boyd!" The General called out, gaining herself the attention of Ashley Boyd, a woman who had been one of the earliest members of the Resistance and had been rewarded with leadership of her own unit. Killian's eyes narrowed as the blonde woman wandered over, knowing exactly where the General was going. "Take your unit into the outhouse. I want a full clean-up operation."
Boyd gave a short nod before calling out orders to her unit. Killian stared after them, irritation surging through him as he watched the soldiers disappear into the outhouse.
"Ma'am, with respect," he forced the words out through gritted teeth, an action which affected how genuine his words sounded, "I discovered the contents of that outhouse. I can handle the clean-up operation."
"I know you can," the General admitted with a tired sigh, "but I need you with me, please."
There was a vulnerability to her tone, a reluctance to her request which unnerved Killian further. If she really wanted him with her, she could have called out her orders. She was no stranger to pulling rank. Instead, it was a plea. It was a need not a want. It was unsettling to see the General, who was so normally so assured in herself, so confident in her orders, be so reluctant to actually make them.
"Okay," Killian agreed with a short nod.
"Thank you," the General responded earnestly. "We have to get to the weapon," the latest statement was more like the General's usual self. It was determined, certain as she began stalking towards the Dark-Knight facility, looking ready to end things once and for all.
Killian didn't follow her immediately. He glanced at the outhouse longingly. He couldn't describe it, but there was a feeling right in the pit of his stomach that he should forget everything else and go inside. He had a strange feeling that he had missed something in there. Like he'd caught something in the corner of his eye and hadn't quite processed it. Something important. Reluctantly, he ignored the feeling in the pit of his stomach, forcing his steps to take him away from the outhouse and to follow the General.
It was another thing he couldn't explain but it was clear that the General needed him and no matter how much his gut was telling him to go into that outhouse, his heart was screaming at him not to let her down. He owed it to the woman who had once saved his life, had given him hope when he needed it most, had mentored him, and had led them to victory against the machines. He couldn't abandon her.
They walked into, and through, the Dark-Knight work camp facility in silence. The General seemed to know exactly where she was going and Killian knew not to question her knowledge when it came to these things. The General's impossible knowledge had saved countless lives in the past. It had gotten them to the verge of victory.
Reaching the back of the facility, they turned a corner and were instantly greeted by a hub of activity at the door of the hangar the General had referred to earlier. Resistance fighters were coming and going with crates of equipment that Mills must have requested for his response to the weapon.
Killian stepped into the large hangar, staring up in amazement at the weapon which took centre stage. In his mind, the final weapon had been a bomb, or a nuke which Dark-Knight initiated in a frantic attempt for one last hurrah upon accepting their own fate. A desperate move to eradicate the surviving humans in the same way they had once killed billions on the day that came to be referred to by survivors as Judgement Day. The day the machines took control, over thirty years ago.
Whatever the final weapon was, it wasn't a bomb or a nuke. Killian could tell that much. It was huge, towering well above them. The actual weapon part appeared to be in the centre, lit up by a bright, white-blue light, steady after its earlier pulsing. It was like a spotlight on a huge stage, with a ramp having already been set up to be able to get onto the stage looming above them. A few of the soldiers from Mills' unit were already up there, scanning the weapon with hand-held devices.
"What the bloody hell is that thing?" Killian questioned, looking straight at the General. She always had the answers.
The General stared at the weapon despairingly. They'd never been so close to victory and yet she looked defeated. "My life. Full circle," she answered bitterly.
"I'm going to need a bit more than that," Killian shot back at her vague response. The General had always had a tendency for vagueness. The less people who knew the details of her plans, the less chance there was of Dark-Knight receiving word of them. Dark-Knight, however, was gone and with the threat of the weapon looming over them, Killian didn't have time for her ambiguous responses.
"It's a time displacement weapon," the General expanded.
"A time machine?" Killian looked for clarification in his disbelief.
"Indeed," the General confirmed with a short nod, "and in its final moments, Dark-Knight used it in order to ensure its own survival. It sent a Huntsman back in time."
Killian stared up at the machine in horror. The General's despair made sense. Despite how it looked, victory was far from theirs. The Huntsman, wherever in time it had been sent, had all the information of the Resistance's plans. It had all the information it needed to ensure Dark-Knight's ultimate victory.
"I'll need fifteen minutes to ready the machine," Mills spoke up from the array of computers he had set up to analyse the machine.
Henry Mills was one of the General's longest friends and one of her closest confidantes. From the little the General had told Killian, the pair's paths had crossed not long after the machines took control. Mills' knowledge of Dark-Knight and technology was the closest that anyone in the Resistance came to rivalling the General's impossible knowledge. There were a few, however, among the ranks of the Resistance who did not trust Mills anywhere as much as the General did. Killian had heard many people over the years question the man's motivations and he'd even seen some pass on the offer of a promotion because it involved a transfer to Mills' unit. As far as Killian was concerned, Henry Mills had proven on many occasions that he was not his mother. Regina Mills was the woman responsible for creating Dark=Knight, making her the woman responsible for the death of billions across the world. Henry Mills had only ever fought to destroy the evil his mother had created.
"I'm running the co-ordinates now," Mills informed the General, typing away at one of the computers. "Should have them in just a moment."
"New York City, nineteen-eighty-four," the General predicted knowingly.
Mills' computer beeped as the co-ordinates popped up on his screen. He gave a nod of confirmation, "New York City, May twelfth, nineteen-eighty-four."
"Wait, but that's years before Judgement Day, let alone the Final Battle," Killian spoke up, not following Dark-Knight's thought process. "How long does this Huntsman need to determine how to ensure the Resistance's defeat in this Final Battle?"
"It's not looking to defeat the Resistance, Killian," the General corrected him. "Dark-Knight's aim is to ensure that the Resistance is never formed. They want to ensure that those who survive Judgement Day are never given the hope that the Resistance gave them."
"How do they plan to do that?" Killian questioned.
"The Huntsman that it sent back has one mission, one target," the General answered, "Emma Swan."
Killian's thoughts instantly went to the woman in the photograph he had in his pocket. The one whose beauty radiated off the photograph, despite its age. "The mother of the Resistance," he realised.
The General nodded. "My mother. If the Huntsman succeeds, I'll never be born and the Resistance is never formed. Dark-Knight will win."
"But for now, we still have hope," Mills spoke up, walking over to join them, shooting a small smile in the General's direction. "I've analysed the technology. I can make it work. We can send someone back ourselves."
"We don't even know for sure that you can get it to work," Killian challenged his confidence. It wasn't that he didn't trust the older man, it was just a big call Mills had made. He'd not long found the machine and suddenly he was claiming he knew how to utilise it to send someone back in time.
"I trust Henry can make it work," General Swan declared confidently. "As, I hope, the individual we send back can protect my mother."
With that declaration, various Resistance soldiers began to shout out, offering themselves as volunteers to go back in time and protect Emma Swan. As the shouts rang out, Killian's right hand reached into his pocket, closing around the photograph tucked safely away inside.
Resistance Headquarters, 2020
Fourteen-year-old Killian Jones sat in a bed in the Resistance medical ward without a care in the world of those mulling about around him. He held Liam's ring in his right hand, between his finger and thumb, staring at it absent-mindedly. He and Liam had dreamed of finding the Resistance, becoming a part of it, rising up and fighting against the machines. Every night, they had tuned in and listened eagerly to General Swan's radio announcement, hanging on to every single word as she sent them hope in the darkness of their lives.
Only a few days ago, he would have been ecstatic to learn that the Resistance would find him. Not only the resistance, but General Swan herself. After years of dreaming of that day, he had finally located the Resistance and he found himself in their medical bay but it had come with a price. A huge price.
"How are you holding up?"
Killian looked up to find General Swan of all people checking in on him. Even though he was new to the way the Resistance worked, he knew bedside checks would not be in her day-to-day routine. She had taken time out of her busy schedule to visit him. His younger self would have been over the moon. He couldn't care less.
"How do you think?" He sneered back at her, returning his focus to the ring in his hand.
"Right. Stupid question," General Swan admitted and sounded frustrated with herself for leading with that. She clearly didn't take the hint that he wasn't in the mood for a conversation as she sat down in the chair next to his bed. "Doctor Benton tells me your prosthetic should be ready tomorrow-"
"I don't give a damn about a lump of plastic," Killian cut her off. The loss of his hand was a distant memory and irrelevant compared to recent events. He had managed two years without it and a stupid piece of plastic was the least of his concerns.
"Killian, please don't push away the people who care for you," General Swan pleaded with him.
"I don't have anyone who cares for me! They're all dead. Anyone who cares for me dies!" Killian snapped bitterly in response. "I have no bloody clue why you're making out like you care for me. You don't even know me! There's no reason for you to care for me. I'm nothing. I'm just a kid who had no-one left. You should have just left me to die." He spat at her darkly.
He was done with the world. It had been nothing but unfair to him from the moment he had been born. He had been brought into a world ruled by machines determined to kill them all. He'd lost his mother, then his father and, more recently, his brother. His entire family was dead. There was nothing else left for him.
"Then your brother's sacrifice will be in vain," General Swan challenged him gently. There was no pity in her tone, no judgement, just understanding.
Killian's hand closed tightly around the ring as he turned to look at her once again. "It should have been me," he told her, struggling to keep his voice steady.
"But it wasn't. He made a choice to protect you. Now you have a choice. You can let your grief consume you or you can use it to fight on in his name," General Swan replied. "I know what it's like to have people make sacrifices for you. Far too many people have done it for me in the past and, unfortunately, more will in the future."
He could see regret in her eyes as she opened herself up to him. He wondered how many people saw the more vulnerable side to the great Resistance General. It was certainly a completely different side to her than he had ever heard over the hope-inducing radio broadcasts. It humanized her. She reached into her pocket, retrieving a small, square photograph and holding it out for him.
Curious, Killian took it from her. Photographs were a rarity, a remnant of the old world. The world he had never seen. They were snapshots taken to freeze happy moments in time, to aid the memory and recall of those happy times. There were no happy times in the new world. No one wanted to remember the daily fights and struggles that they went through. He looked down at the photograph in his hand.
"That's my mother, Emma." General Swan told him as Killian looked at the blonde woman in the picture. She wasn't smiling and her green eyes were staring off into the distance, a hint of sadness to them, completely oblivious to her picture being taken.
"She's beautiful," Killian commented, finding himself mesmerized by a single photograph. He'd never seen anyone like her.
General Swan chuckled lightly at his response. "Yeah. She was," she agreed. "She died. A long time ago. To protect me."
"I'm sorry," he said immediately, and he meant it.
"She wasn't the first to sacrifice herself for me, but it didn't make it any easier," General Swan continued. "Everything I've done since that day has been in her name, and everyone else who has made the same selfless sacrifice. The Final Battle will come. The Resistance will win but it won't be because of me." She paused, looking at him. "Your brother. What was his name?"
"Liam," Killian answered. "His name was Liam."
"The Resistance's victory will come from all the sacrifices over these long decades. It will be because of Emma's sacrifice. It will be because of Liam's sacrifice. I promise you, Killian, these sacrifices will not be in vain."
"We fight. To honor them?" Killian took from everything she told him.
"Exactly," General Swan nodded. "Now, I've heard a lot about you from a man named Smee."
Killian stared at her in surprise.
"Yeah, that's right. How do you think we knew to come looking for you? He made it to us, along with three other men. Told us all about how you had inspired and led an uprising at the work camp," the General relayed onto him. Killian smiled slightly at the news that some of the others had made it. "From what I hear, you showed quite the leadership skills we need in the next generation of fighters. We could use someone like you. So what do you say, Killian. Do you want to be a Resistance soldier? Once Doctor Benton medically clears you, of course."
Determined, Killian nodded in response.
"I'll make arrangements for your basic training right away," General Swan enthusiastically stated. She placed her hands on the arm rests of the chair, pushing herself to her feet.
Killian took one last glance at the photograph of her mother before holding it out. "Here you go," he said, handing it back to her.
General Swan glanced down at his outstretched hand but she didn't reach for the photograph. She shook her head, sending him a warm smile. "I think you should keep it," she told him.
Killian stared at her in surprise. "I can't-"
"It's yours, Killian," General Swan cut him off. "That's an order. You'll get used to taking those from me. I'll be seeing you around, Jones."
As General Swan left the room, Killian turned his attention back to the photograph, silently vowing to keep good care of it. He stared at the picture of Emma. He'd heard all the stories of her including how she had moulded General Swan into the leader that she was. She was dead, he knew that, but he also knew that, if he had known her, he would have died for her.
Dark-Knight Facility, Maine, 2029
"I'll do it."
Killian took a step forward to punctuate his statement. It wasn't an offer, not like his fellow Resistance fighters were calling out. It was a certainty. There was no question about it. He was doing it, even if he had to fight his way into the bloody time machine.
General Swan raised an eyebrow at his resoluteness. "I have plenty of other volunteers," she pointed out to him. "Why would I send you?"
"I would die for Emma Swan," Killian proclaimed, holding her stare. She was testing him, he knew that, and he was deadly serious, she knew that. "You've told me so much about her over the years, Swan. I may have never met her but, because of you, I feel like I did. I know her. Let me protect her. Let me save her. Please."
"Okay," she agreed with a short nod. "Mills, help him prepare."
Mills stepped forward, placing a hand on Killian's shoulder to guide him over to the small workstation he had set up with all his computer screens. Killian glanced back at the General as he let Mills lead him away. She took a seat on one of the crates, placing her head in her hands.
"Is she okay?" Killian asked Mills, nodding towards General Swan, when they reached his workstation.
"She'll be fine," Mills nodded, glancing over to the General. "You know her almost as well as I do. She hates it when people make sacrifices for the cause."
"This isn't a sacrifice," Killian protested immediately.
Mills hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Killian. "You do understand that time travel is a brand-new scientific breakthrough that we're experiencing her, right? There are no time displacement devices in nineteen-eighty-four. This is a one-way trip," Mills told him warningly.
"I understand that," Killian nodded, "but it's still not a sacrifice. This is my purpose. I can't explain it but it feels like everything in my life was leading to this point. Like fate."
Mills chuckled as he turned to his computers, typing on the keyboard. "Don't let General Swan hear you say that. She hates the idea of fate," Mills commented. His computer pinged once again and his eyes went wide as he read the analysis. "Oh."
"Oh?" Killian repeated, his head shooting to Mills. "That oh does not fill me with optimism, mate."
"Nor should it," Mills responded, tacking his eyes off the screen to look at Kilian. "This is going to be even harder than we thought. You're going to have to go weaponless."
"No weapons?" Killian repeated. "Are you bloody mad? There's no chance of stopping a Huntsman with the primitive forms of weapons they had before Judgement Day. We can barely do it with these things!" He waved the plasma gun in his hand as he referred to it.
"Hey, don't shoot the messenger!" Mills held his hands up in a mock surrender then gestured vaguely towards the computer monitor. "I've got the measurements back from the magnetic field. It will rip anything apart which isn't encased in living tissue. Essentially, you take a gun in that thing, it'll be blown to pieces and will most definitely take you down with it.
"That's a definite no then," Killian chucked the gun to the floor. He had no use for it anymore. "Living tissue you say? So no prosthetic hand?"
"Unless you want to get blown to pieces," Mills shrugged, posing it like there was even an option. Killian sighed, pulling the prosthetic hand off and dropping it to the floor, next to his discarded gun. "Clothes are a no too."
"Wonderful," Killian muttered sarcastically, making the decision to leave them on until the machine was primed and ready to go.
His thoughts were on the photograph and Liam's ring – two items he hadn't parted with since the days he had procured them. He had owned them for almost the same amount of time, just a few days apart, and the thought of parting with them was a difficult one. He could get new clothes and new (inferior) weapons, but those two items were priceless. His gaze fell on General Swan, knowing she was the right person to return the photograph to. Something told him she would take good care of his brother's ring too.
"How long have I got?" Killian asked Mills without taking his eyes off the General.
"It'll be ready in five," Mills told him.
Killian nodded to show he had heard him before walking back over to the General. She was still sat on the crate, looking down at the floor and seemingly unaware of his presence.
"I can't take anything with me," he spoke, making his presence known and prompting her to look up at him, "so I figured I ought to return the photo." He reached into his pocket, pulled out the photograph and held it out for her.
General Swan took it from him, smiling when she looked at it. "You took good care of it," she commented, noting it was almost in the same condition as it were the day she had given it to him.
"I was hoping you could take good care of something for me," Killian told her, taking the ring from his pocket and holding it in his hand. "I had thought, with the dream of a boathouse, that I may find someone to settle down with in the better future that's coming. I thought I may use this ring one day to propose, as a reminded that Liam's sacrifice gave me a chance at a family. I realise now… that's not my future. It doesn't stop it from being yours."
Killian placed the ring down on the crate beside her. He saw the look on her face. He knew she wouldn't have taken it willingly. She didn't think she deserved it.
"Without you, this new future would never have been possible. The machines would still be in control now," Killian told her. "You inspired hope, you taught us to rise up and you led us to victory. You deserve this future. Before I go, I need you to promise me that you won't waste it."
She held his stare, a small smile tugging at her lips then she picked up the ring, holding it tightly in her hand. "I won't, Killian, I promise."
"Good," he stated with a small, content nod. He lingered, glancing at the time machine before turning back to the General. "There's one more thing, before I go. The device. You knew it would be here. You knew what time it would be set for. You knew the machine would fall tonight. I mean, you constantly referred to it as The Final Battle." He paused, psyching himself up to ask a question which he knew would sound ridiculous, but it was the only explanation he could think of. "Can you see the future?"
General Swan chuckled lightly, shaking her head. "No one can see the future," she told him. "To tell you the truth, I cheat. Emma told me so much about what happened. I used to think that my mother knew everything. But this is as much as I know because it's as much as she knew. Once you go back, my knowledge of what's to come ends."
"No more cheating from you," Killian acknowledged. "Welcome to the real world of uncertainty."
A look of relief crossed the General's face. "To tell you the truth, I can't wait," she revealed.
"Really?" Killian questioned in surprise.
General Swan nodded, "Knowledge of coming days is a heavy weight to carry. Having the knowledge of coming death or destruction is a lot to live with. I've had to learn to disconnect or risk sending myself mad. It's a burden I wouldn't wish upon anyone."
"It's ready!" Mills called out.
Killian glanced over at the older man. "Well, here goes nothing, I guess," he commented.
"Killian. Before you go," General Swan spoke up, stopping him from walking away. She stood up, standing face-to-face with him, her blue eyes meeting his. "I should warn you. The Emma that you're going back to, she won't quite be the warrior you've heard stories of. That woman was forged in a blaze of fire. She'll be scared. She won't know how to fight or defend herself, not against the machine, at least. There was once a time in her life when her biggest worry was making rent and tuition. The Emma you're going to meet isn't a war-hardened warrior. She's a waitress-"
"A what?" Killian cut her off, confused by the term. He'd never heard that one before.
"A…" General Swan considered explaining then shook her head very slightly, "never mind. Just be prepared. She's going to need you but she's going to be aware of the stakes. Or her importance."
"I'll convince her," Killian assured her.
"I have no doubt you will," General Swan responded immediately, expressing her confidence in him. "And when you do, can you pass on a message from me? Tell her, thank you, Emma, for your courage during the dark days. I can not help you with what you soon must face, except to say that the future is not set. There is no fate but that which we make for ourselves. You must be stronger than you imagine you can be. You must survive, or I will never exist."
"I'll tell her," Killian confirmed, burning the words into his memory, repeating them over in his head.
"Are we going this?" Mills questioned, walking over to join them.
"We're doing this," Killian nodded. He glanced at General Swan one last time before making his way over to the ramp which would take him up and into the time machine. He stopped at the bottom, kicking off his boots and proceeding to take off his clothes.
The General turned her attention to Mills' vast array of monitors as Killian prepared himself. She frown as she looked at the information pulled up onscreen, unsure how Mills could make sense of it. "So, once he's in position, you just…?" She asked Mills questioningly.
"Hit the button," Mills filled in for her, pointing to a red button wired into the computer.
"The big, red, ominous one?" General Swan search for clarification, not that there were any other buttons around.
"That's the one," Mills confirmed, holding back a bemused smile.
"In position!" Killian called out from the centre of the time displacement equipment.
Mills looked at General Swan, awaiting her order.
"Do it," General Swan commanded with a nod. Her eyes fixed on the red button as Mills' hand pressed down on it. The hum of the machine kicked into action and the hangar filled with a bright pulsing blue light once more.
The blinding pulsing continued for a few minutes and, when it finally faded, Sergeant Killian Jones was gone.
Within seconds, Resistance soldiers began setting the explosive devices in preparation for the destruction of the time displacement equipment. The General remained fixed in her spot, staring at the red button as she let out a light, regretful sigh.
