"EMMA NO!" The panicked voice echoed over the empty streets of Storybrooke as the black-haired pirate ran forward. "No no no no!" He catches Emma in his arms before she hits the ground. Her face is surprised, not quite realising the pain her body is in.
"I- failed." The hooded figure that wielded the sword now bloodstained on the ground collapses, their hand on the same place they hit the blonde Savior. "I-love yo-" a sigh, last breath, silence.
"NO EMMA NO. COME BACK. EMMA!" Killian cries out, but the person the words are meant for can not hear them anymore. Rushing behind the mourning man, a boy, now freed from his adoptive mother's embrace, runs forward.
"Mom!"
"Henry no!" People running people shouting people calling. Everything turns into a blur.
A cold stone on freshly dug earth bearing a name he once lovingly called his, two dates too close to each other underneath. If Storybrooke was a village with lots of visitors, they would have noticed the town being extraordinary quiet, a feeling as if, when God spread colour over the world, He forgot this small town. They would have seen a black-dressed mayor next to a door standing in the middle of the main road, ushering people through with a fake smile on her face. They would have seen the people disappear and not appear at the other side of the door. They would have noticed a young boy crying in the arms of a pretty girl his own age. They would have seen the owner of the local bed and breakfast silently baking a cake with her granddaughter, without the usual cheer on her face. They would have, but Storybrooke isn't the kind of village with lots of visitors.
So nobody sees a one-handed man enter an antiquities shop. Nobody sees him take a seemingly ordinary knife. Nobody sees him walk to the park. Nobody sees him cut his hand. Nobody sees a boat appearing in the evening fog. Nobody sees the pirate boarding, nobody sees them leave into the endless nothingness. The rest of town won't notice him gone till it is too late, won't find the goodbye note till the boat has disappeared, won't have a way to follow him till Death comes at the end of their lives to greet them like a friend.
And Death does. It takes many years and many adventures, but eventually, even for fairy tales, Death comes. He stretches out a hand and those who have lived a long life take it voluntarily, happy with the prospect of a reunion with those Death has greeted before.
A single bird sounds as a young couple steps out of a bright shining light. Next to them walks what once was a young baby in the arms of an imprisoned woman. Behind the couple walks an old woman, hair as white as her name suggests. They enter a castle, white tall towers, bright long hallways, cosy rooms and gorgeous gardens.
The family coming home is a big mix up of unlikely persons. A saviour, a pirate, a Queen, a princess. A shepherd, embracing his son the Prince. An author, a princess from Camelot. A thief famous for his abilities with a bow and arrow. Behind them even more people. Family, friends. People they met along their way. It has been long, and their lives are ones you can write many books about. But now, finally, they are home.