He supposes they should all go seek out the Cricket at some point, this world being so focused on talking out one's problems. Leaning back in the chair, Killian shifts his weight so he can skim the "Five Stages of Grief" pamphlet among all the other ones scattered across the coffee table pertaining to dental care. It's either a crass mistake that it's here, or someone's idea of a prank.
With a colorful fish tank and a wide variety of pamphlets and the thin, papery—dash it all, what are they called...magazines, he wouldn't think going to the dentist would be all that frightful to anyone from this land. Hell, the Enchanted Forest could have used more attention toward teeth. To hear Henry tell it, however, the lad is in for an hour's worth of torture.
"He's fine," Swan mutters, flipping through one of the magazines, her eyes veering up and following the fish in front of them. She smiles at them and returns to her article.
Meanwhile, it appears the five stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Marvelous. It all seems so obvious in hindsight, but there are people paid to study this sort of thing.
"I didn't say he wasn't," he mutters back, wondering if he's been watching the closed door the lady had led Henry behind about twenty minutes ago. "He looked like he wanted you to go with him."
"And he would have killed me if I had," she says.
"Fair point."
"We'll make you an appointment and you'll see."
He's not sure if he should take that as a threat or not. Truth be told, he couldn't care less about what else Swan chooses to show him in regards to this world. Storybrooke is safe, Rumpelstiltskin banished, and, aside from still needing to free the fairies from that wretched hat, he's certain he's never been happier. No, he's not too worried about Henry. This Doctor Muller has a long history with teeth.
There's a sound that suddenly makes him go rigid, not because of its volume or even its tone; only its rarity. The song playing from some unseen speaker now has Swan singing along with it, completely unaware she's doing it. He's heard her hum several times—in the car, while busying herself at the station or in the kitchen...up beanstalks.
"And all I ever needed was the one/like freedom feels/where wild horses run/When stars collide, like you and I/no shadows block the sun..."
Grinning to himself, he keeps his eyes on the pamphlet so as not to ruin the moment. He'd rather like to think he has something to do with her good mood.
"For each man in his time is Cain/until he walks along the beach/and sees his future in the water/a long lost heart within his reach..."
He hasn't told her he loves her, not in so many words, really. She knows he does and he knows she knows he does, and he knows she loves him, and yet...he doesn't really know why he's waiting. He doesn't know why they're waiting for several things. Perhaps they share a fear that if they tempt fate, it will all be taken away from them, these quiet moments of simply sitting next to one another with no crisis in sight. They've just had so much more time than they were ever meant to, what with being born centuries apart in different worlds and all their mutual acquaintances—or relatives, in her case—treating other mutual acquaintances/relatives as pawns. That they found each other at all should keep him grateful.
Not satisfied. But grateful.
Emma keeps a solid distance between herself and Hades and Zelena, walking at least twenty paces behind them with her hands up so as to perform her magic if need be. Wise, despite the rather sickening display by the two evil lovebirds. Wrapped up in one another with Zelena's head resting on Hades' shoulder. Grimacing, he turns away and comes face-to-face with Henry, whose pale glare could have turned the pair into stone if he had his own brand of magic.
"Relax, lad. Swallow the vomit back down if you need," he whispers to him, Henry's muffled chuckle music to his ears.
"Don't you know what 'time is of the essence' means?" Henry snaps at them, not afraid to approach them. He and Robin both reach for his shoulders.
"Precocious children die just as often as dull ones," Hades says, releasing Zelena so he can clap his hands together and regard all of them with a smarmy expression. "Well then, now that the most grisly part of the deal is done, let's work on leaving here, shall we?"
"What's this 'we' business?" David asks with his hands on his hips.
"Oh, you didn't get the memo. Zelena and I shared True Love's Kiss. My heart works just fine now, so fine, in fact, that there should be a portal opening up soon allowing me to leave. It was a glorious moment, wasn't it, Savior?" He half-turns and smirks at Emma.
"I've never wanted bleach more in my life," she grunts.
"You said a portal?" Regina asks. "Where?"
"Follow me." Hades gestures for them to follow him toward the cemetery.
At the cemetery, the clock tower lies, crashed to the ground, its hands spinning in an erratic fashion. It hasn't crushed any headstones, but its appearance seems precarious, to say the least. The way Killian had understood it, the ticking of the clock heralded a soul moving on. So then were the rest of the people down here aware of what was about to happen and were finishing their unfinished business now? Or was something worse afoot?
"How'd it get here?" David wants to know, and he's not the only one.
"The hands are moving. Is that a good sign or a bad one?" Emma asks, and Hades seems to favor her question more.
"It's a great one if you want to leave. When those hands spin fast enough in about an hour, it'll turn into an open portal back."
"Which we can't go through because of those," she reminds him, indicating the graves. "So let's get on with it."
"Gladly." With a wave of his hand in the direction of the headstones, each one vanishes, as if they were never there at all. "There. As promised. You're no longer tied to this realm."
It's too easy. After everything that's happened, he's just going to let them leave? Even with Storybrooke as the prize to potentially win, no villain would run the risk of all their enemies leaving right along with him.
"I told you love could change him," Zelena says. Because she's such an expert.
"I don't buy it," he says. "A man can't change that quickly."
Emma crosses in front of him, inches away.
"We're free to go through the portal when it opens, which means it's time to split my heart so you can leave with us."
He can't help but smile. They can work out the details of whatever Hades and Zelena's latest scheme is, but for right now, there is a stunning, amazing woman willing to literally give him her heart. She came after him. She came for him. She came for them.
"Aye, love," is all he can say, savoring the way her hands drift down his arms and curve around his knuckles and the base of his hook. She has full confidence this will work, which means he has full confidence it will work.
"Do it," she orders Regina, squaring off with her as if they were about to fight. They nod at each other, and then Regina reaches right into Emma's chest. It stops his heart, even though she's not allowing the pain to take charge of her, letting out the tiniest gasp. However, she does close her eyes when Regina breaks it apart. Two equal halves, pulled apart by the same woman who split Snow White's heart. It's only a little disconcerting there seems to be a market for that particular ability.
He braces himself when Emma turns around with the half meant for him. He remembers only too well the gut-wrenching sensation of having it lodged back into his body. And with it being someone else's this time, who knows how it is supposed to feel? It's not like before, when he didn't have a heart at all. Everything then had seemed muted, dimmed, and he doubts his emotions haven't been in full force here.
He widens his stance and inhales, seeing Emma readying herself...
And then doubling over.
Groaning in pain.
"Emma!"
"Mom!"
She can't even stand. He grabs hold of her arm to steady her while Regina weaves around her and fuses the two pieces back together, shoving them into Emma's chest.
"Why didn't it work?" she pants, wheezing as Killian pulls her to her feet. And there stands Hades, unmoved. Like he knew it would happen.
"I told you we couldn't trust him," he snarls in the god's direction. So he's to stay down here while Emma and the rest of his family return. Sadistic to the last.
"That wasn't me," Hades clarifies. "I'm afraid there are laws of nature beyond even my control."
"No, it should work. I died. My wife's heart brought me back," David argues.
"How long were you dead?" Hades questions him.
"A minute or so, maybe less," Regina answers, a slight questioning inflection in her tone, blinking away what must have been a difficult memory.
"Ah," Hades says, nodding his head back and forth. "I didn't think I recalled you entering this realm. Your soul never left your body. That's why it worked for you."
Emma's eyes widen in horror. He feels her hand press harder into his back, her opposite one clutching his wrist so tightly it should be painful.
"So Hook's been down here too long?" Her voice breaks. So she'll have to leave without him. He'll have to stay here without her...he gulps, feeling tears prickle his eyes. Stop it, he commands himself, setting his jaw, concentrating only on Hades to keep the tears from falling. She's watching you. She can't stay here, shouldn't have come at all...
"And his body's rotting away up there. Even if your soul could return to it, I doubt either of you could stomach the smell," Hades adds.
Smile. Smile, damn it, he curses himself, forcing the corner of his lip to turn up. He loosens his grip on her, lest he be too tempted to keep her here. It's watching her drive away over the town line right before the purple smoke envelopes everything else all over again, feeling his own heart being dragged away.
"Well, Emma, it appears you have to return without me," he begins.
"There has to be another way!" she breathes, no tears falling yet. He can't—he can't do this if he's forced to bloody push her through the portal. Time ticks away, its opening growing ever closer.
"Emma, please..."
"You're telling me no one's gone to the Underworld and brought someone back?" she asks of Hades, twisting herself so she still holds his wrists but so her hip now rests along his. There's no answer at first. Hades, trying to remain unreadable, flinches. Maybe...maybe they can still go back together? Whatever other gods exist besides this one, he prays, make it so. Please. Please let me go back.
"They have," Emma sighs in relief. "Who? Who did? How?"
"It was a long time ago, and it was a rumor. There's no proof it actually worked," he says, his face becoming even grimmer than before.
"Tell me everything," she pleads with him. But Killian can't speak yet. He can only dip his head down and press the bridge of his nose into her wool cap, inhaling the warmth.
There is no time to walk to Hades' lair, not if what he says about the ticking clock is true. Killian isn't sure how gods perceive time, but apparently there also isn't enough of it to even "poof" everyone to where Hades wants them to go. Instead, they are suddenly back in that gentlemen's club of doom, where all the rivers of the Underworld meet. It felt like the blinking of an eye. It must have felt the same way to everyone else as well, the others exchanging confused looks and bobbing their heads all around.
"It's the only way to travel," Hades quips, ignoring their bafflement for the most part and taking a knee in front of one of his bookcases.
"What's this? What are you showing them?" Zelena asks, all but nipping at his heels, seized by a fervor to know everything Hades knows, be everywhere Hades can be.
"This." Opening one of the thicker books, he flips through the pages and comes to a rather luminous illustration highlighting text in a language Killian has never seen before. Maybe it's a language known only to the gods, or one that's been dead for so long it might as well have been.
"Orpheus and Eurydice," Hades announces with some bite. He takes a step toward Henry, and Killian almost darts in front of him, but it's only to hand the boy the book. He is the Author now, he reminds himself. That carries some authority.
"I know this myth," Henry gasps, holding the book out so they can all peer at the page. "She died, and he followed her to the Underworld to get her back."
"These are the only two souls who ever escaped my realm," Hades explains. The fact it occurred so long ago does not bode well, Killian thinks, watching Emma's eyes skim the foreign writing and then hand the book to her father in frustration. It appears they will be going solely off of Hades' knowledge for this.
"How? I thought you said that broke the laws of nature?" David asks.
"Orpheus helped Eurydice escape by feeding her ambrosia, the food of the gods."
Killian rolls his eyes. If all these magical authority types would simply refrain from making their explanations indecipherable, everyone would be better off. He's heard of ambrosia, of course, but other than Mount Olympus itself, no one ever knew where to find it or even what it looked like.
"And where exactly do you get some of that?" Regina tests him. Good. Solving problems with only some person's vague clues has taken its toll on everyone. "Because I don't recall seeing it on the menu at the Blind Witch's."
Another disorienting eye-blink later, they stand in the library, right in front of the elevator door they'd tried to infiltrate...he can't even remember if it was last night or the night before. It doesn't feel right, listening to Hades of all people spell out the task and set the rules. Why hasn't another god come down to check his work? Monitor his rule of the Underworld? They couldn't all just assume things were ship-shape, could they? And if a few paltry mortals happened to explain a unique, portentous situation, surely one of the more benevolent ones would take pity on them? What he wouldn't give for even the Blue Fairy to be here with them, ready to confirm or contradict everything Hades is saying.
Hades removes the brick wall that none of them could, revealing the elevator shaft. Emma takes hold of his hook. He looks over at her, but she keeps her eyes on Hades, her brow furrowed just enough to let him know she wants him to watch the god too, look for some sign of a lie.
"An elevator?" she scoffs. "I'm the Savior. I've got magic."
"And I'm the lord of the Underworld. That should tell you something. The ambrosia—it's powerful, and like a petty, spoiled child, it wants all the power for itself. Everything else is shut down below. There's no hopping in and out in a puff of smoke. This is the only way, and once you're down there, you're on your own."
Yes, and then the ambrosia will just be there waiting for them, he considers snapping back, musing how hilarious Hades' face would be if it was really that easy.
"And then what? We're knee-deep in a field of ambrosia? Can't be that easy." Emma steps toward him, dropping her hands to her side. His sentiment exactly.
"I'm not really sure," Hades sighs. "Even I've never ventured that far down."
Ambrosia must be the name of his other three-headed demon beast then, prepared to rip out their throats the second the elevator drops them to the bottom. It boasts all the makings of a wild goose chase.
"So we're going to the one place in hell where even the devil is afraid to go," he concludes. Even in the most absurd stories told only to children, the old, hobbling guide gives the hero a stick or something that will come in handy later, but if they wait for Hades to give them that, they'll be stranded here.
"Not hell, and not the devil," Zelena corrects him. Apologies, Witch, but semantics is the least of our worries. Just what does await them if they venture down there?
"And not because I'm afraid," Hades adds. "There's a test to ensure that only those who are worthy of eating ambrosia can reach it, and it will require offering up your heart for judgment."
"Without magic, how am I going to take out my own-"
Hades reaches into Emma's chest and pulls her heart out right in front of them, and she reacts the same as if she'd received a punch to the gut. Her palm on the spot where her heart should be, other arm holding her stomach, she shakes her head at his and her father's attempts to help her back up. Killian never thought he would believe it, but perhaps things are getting even too dangerous for the Savior. Her heart in Hades' hand glows a bright, formidable pink, but he can't help but wonder if it misses its owner.
"You're not," Hades corrects her, dumping her heart into a stringed bag and tying it shut. "My gift to you. Take good care of it."
Glaring at him, Emma yanks the bag back.
"Let's have this be the last time we do this today, okay?" she asks, holding the bag up with the string pinched between her thumb and finger.
"Just trying to help," Hades replies, gesturing innocence with his hands as he steps away from them.
"So...failing this test has...what? Fatal consequences?"
"One would think."
No. No, he is not spending eternity with Emma Swan by way of letting her die running some fool's errand in this place. They know so little about what lies ahead. All their other quests...well, all their other quests, they've won, or, more accurately, walked away from unscathed until they'd faced the Darkness. But each time, hadn't they spent days investigating, researching, walking around in the woods and testing out the power of the opposition? This...this is an entirely different matter.
"You don't have to do this, Swan," he murmurs to her as he tugs on her arm for her to face him. She might put her life on the line on a regular basis, but he's never asked her to do it, and he won't.
"And you didn't have to sacrifice your life to save all of us from the Dark Ones," she scolds him. "We're going."
"We'll be here waiting for you," David promises her, stroking her arm. Emma doesn't embrace him, though.
"Regina..." she begins.
"I know the drill. If you're not back by sunset-"
"Everybody leaves. Promise me," Emma orders.
"You'll be back," Regina says, her face sober, but her tone casual. She's trying to convince Emma—and herself—this is nothing at all, as easy as a stroll through a park after all they've been through together.
"I love you, Mom."
And it's Henry's hushed declaration and rush into his mother's arms that nearly breaks Killian. He swallows. He can order—beg—the others to grab Emma and just leave now, for when that portal starts spinning, she'll make bloody sure she and her son won't be separated...but they're all champions of lost causes now, even Regina. Even himself. They owe it to each other to try.
He nods to her when she and Henry break apart, taking in the brave smile she's mustered for him. He follows her into the elevator and slams down the gate.
Instantly, the rickety contraption rattles all about, jerking in random places during the descent. He widens his stance, but doesn't grip the bars of the gate just yet. Swan's linked her arm through his, managing to stabilize herself over the deafening racket. If Hades' grand trick is to just have the bloody thing fall apart around them...
Well. It's stopped, and not with a nauseating thud. He steadies his legs, likening the sensation to stepping onto land after months at sea.
"Bloody hell," he mutters to himself. "Are you all right, love?"
She's gotten her bearings, standing on her tiptoes to peer over the dust at what awaits.
"Looks like this is our stop," she says. Lifting the gate for them, they step out into a tunnel, darkened, save for two torches near the elevator and Swan's flashlight. She carries it in one hand, her bag in the other. It's too far down to see what lies at the end of the tunnel—nothing but a speck of light.
"So it's just...in here somewhere," he starts. That sounds familiar.
"Allegedly," Emma says, turning back to him with a grin. He grins back at her. The beanstalk, searching for the compass. She'd been so frightened of him then, but not in the way other people were, and now she stands before him smiling, trying to keep faith that they'll both leave here in one piece. It uplifts him enough. She'd been so brilliant then. She'll be brilliant again. She moves ahead of him, so he flicks her hair with his hook. Spinning back around, she gives him a look of mock-annoyance and shines the flashlight into his face.
"Aye, but at least this time there's no giant here to stomp us into mash," he says, knowing full well she's remembering their first adventure, too. They separate far enough that they can each scan a wall for any surprises and still keep a close watch on what's behind them. As Regina said, they know the drill.
They walk the rest of the way without talking. With their feet hitting the gravel and the occasional sound of water dripping from somewhere in the distance, he breathes a deep sigh. It can't be much longer until they hit the moment where the quest truly begins, and he wants to be ready for it...whatever it may be. Keeping Emma in his peripheral vision, he notices how serious, how determined, how focused she looks.
What are you doing?
Getting ready for a fight.
She can withstand anything that comes her way except herself. Killian won't pretend they don't share that trait. And now she wants to fight for him, has been fighting for him this whole time. He knows every time he's fought at her side that he was really fighting for her, for her safety or her happy ending, and each time she'd revealed just a little more of herself to him. Some men might not have believed it worth the trouble. Then, when he'd been on the brink of losing her to the Darkness, she'd told him she loved him, all the invisible walls around her heart gone for that one bittersweet second. He'd fallen in love with a challenge, to be sure, but she'd meant it. Emma Swan didn't say things she didn't mean, didn't do things half-heartedly. She'd come down here for him, and she wasn't leaving without him, just as he wouldn't leave without her.
The tunnel gives way to what looks to be the entrance to a temple, the brass scales Hades had mentioned on a waist-high podium in front of it. Emma shuts off the flashlight and nestles it into the bag next to her heart.
There is no sentry at the entrance to the temple, giving Killian half a mind to swipe the scales and return to the library, conducting this little test in a safer environment.
Don't be naive, mate, he calms himself. You know that isn't how these things work.
"The instructions couldn't be in English?" she groans, cocking her head at the foreign words encircling the scales. Ah. Archaic and dusty, but not so foreign to him.
"'Only a heart filled with True Love can pass,'" he translates, standing a little straighter that he's not as out of practice as he thought he might be.
"Seriously?" And he's impressed his Swan. Maybe they are off to a good start.
"You'd be surprised what they teach you in the Royal Navy," he explains, flashing her a smile. "The only question is, what the bloody hell does it mean?" He has a feeling they can't just walk by.
"I think I know," she murmurs, winding the bag's string around her hand, eyebrows nearly coming together in thought. "I think I have to weigh my heart to see if my love for you is True."
True Love? No doubt in her voice, no stammering about how purposely difficult this was made to be? They, some indentured servant turned pirate and a princess turned reluctant Savior, share True Love? He raises an eyebrow at her.
"What?"
"Are you saying that what we share is..." He doesn't know how to phrase it.
"Well, we're about to find out," she says, almost shrugging. No. He's tried, gods, how he's tried, but what if he's too broken to give her the kind of love this requires? He bloody tried a True Love's Kiss on her once and ended up with a throbbing groin for all his troubles. Or just the Dark Swan staring back at him. Perhaps she can't love him the way she could love someone more deserving...perhaps you're putting her on a pedestal...perhaps he's just letting the woman he loves be led to her death like a lamb to the slaughter.
"I know you love me," he says, more abruptly than he'd wanted, holding her hand. He smiles when she does, but he's not sure he's ready to hope for something that monumental; he's not sure she's ready, either. "But True Love is the rarest magic of all. Are you...certain?"
She shifts toward him. He finds himself holding his breath, hanging onto every move she makes, heart beating so wildly it's a wonder she doesn't hear it. Oh, he hears hers, speeding up in the inside of that bag, but that could mean any number of things.
"I mean, honestly? I'm not sure, but who could be? We have to try."
That's good enough for him, then, but...has she ever given any thought to the idea at all before now? Or is he the only one who's questioned if he's truly loving her with all his heart? He knows he tries, but his blackened pirate heart can only do so much.
Can't it?
Can hers?
"Why can you only admit how you feel when one of us is facing certain death?" he asks. Her mouth falls open, but not in anger, more like he's shaken her awake.
"I don't know," she groans at herself, her smile a submissive one. He returns it, understanding, but needing to understand more. Sighing at herself, she lest out a soft laugh. "I guess my armor's been on for such a long time that I...sometimes I forget I don't need it with you."
Maybe it's cruel, but he can't stop letting out a chuckle. All those walls—he's brought them down and she's grown so comfortable with him she forgets they're down. Gods, he loves her. She's brought down his, too. If they've come all this way, reached this point, then their love is True enough for the two of them.
"Here goes," she says, removing her heart from the bag. She places it on the scale, its pink hue inflamed with shades of deep red as she pauses, concentrating on what it all means. Her fingers still hold onto it, slowly, slowly, slowly letting go.
And now, they wait. The air should start feeling headier, magic filling up the place. All the cinnamon and warm summer days in her magic should be stirring with the musty, earthy odors behind them in the tunnel.
Nothing.
"It didn't bloody work," he breathes. Where...where do they go from here? It's good enough for the two of them, but it doesn't allow him to leave. They can't spend forever just gaping at how they've both fallen short.
Her gasp pierces the silence. He turns and sees Emma's eyes bulging, gasping for air. Her hand flies to her chest and presses itself as hard as it can against it as her knees buckle. He reaches out to catch her, but she falls to her knees, her ragged breaths more desperate. She can't control her breathing.
"Emma, what's wrong?"
"The pedestal," she struggles to say, bracing herself with her arm to keep from falling flat on the ground. "Get my heart off."
The second he steps toward the scales, flames sweep up from the ground, climbing up onto him. He screams as they engulf him, the smell of his own burning flesh paralyzing him.
"Killian!" Emma shrieks, still on the ground. Every inch he moves, the fires scorch him faster, singeing him right through his clothes.
"Get your heart!" he calls out to her. Maybe she can call her magic back to her with it, vanish from here and go back to the library. Anything to spirit her away from this place.
He can't see her for the flames, but he hears her scream, like a battle cry. In an instant, her hands are on him and his back hits the ground. Wincing, he blindly reaches out and holds her to him until his head stops spinning. No more burning. No more raspy breaths from Emma. She's on top of him, panting, but no more than anyone would after tackling someone away from a fire. They jolt at the same time at the sound of metal hitting metal, something unlocking. Snapping his head up, he sees the temple doors open of their own accord.
"What the hell is that?" Emma mouths, gawking at the door, light pouring out from the other side. It worked. It worked!
"It's True Love," he breathes, hoping he hasn't frightened it away by giving it a name. It's True Love. They have True Love. Lying here, watching her eyes widen above him...they have True Love.
"Emma, you chose me. That was the test," he whispers to her. She grins at him with tears in her eyes, her fingers skittering up his jacket to grip his lapels. She doesn't laugh until she has him in a death grip. She lets him sit up, though, lets him crash his lips to hers and hold the back of her head so she can't squirm away. It may not be breaking any spells, but he'll be damned if this isn't a True Love's Kiss.
"I want to feel it with my heart in my body," she says, breaking away from him. She lifts her heart off the scale without taking her eyes off of him and holds it out for him. He raises his eyebrow at her again, but in jest this time.
"All yours," she encourages him.
"An honor," he tells her, cradling her heart with the edge of his hook as he holds it in his hand. If he had a third appendage, he'd brace her back to dull the pain of putting these ruddy things back in, but alas. Waiting for her to nod, he slams it into her chest.
"Better!" she gasps, throwing her arms around him, kissing him with full force, mouth opening. They pull apart at the same time, foreheads touching, Swan biting her lip. Exhaling, she pats him on the shoulder and takes his hand.
"Come on. We don't have much time."
They hurry into the temple, hustling down a small set of steps into...what would be a garden, if it were brighter, actually growing things. The only light source are small fires blazing around a stump.
"No," Emma breathes, bending down and picking up a dark red fruit. Barely stroking it with one finger, it crumbles into dust at her touch. "The ambrosia are dead!"
"And have been for some time," he remarks, stalking the perimeter of the garden, scanning it for any sign of anything growing. No one's tended to anything. No one's even harvested anything. Hades knew. Whether he ventured down here or not, he knew, had to have! Killian marches up to the stump and places his palm on the top, closing his eyes.
"Someone cut it," Emma murmurs.
"Not somebody. Hades. I knew we couldn't trust him."
"Of course we couldn't."
"Hades probably did this ages ago when Orpheus and Eurydice used them to escape," he says. It's what a villain would do. Without the ambrosia, a sickening feeling nearly overcomes him. Shivering, he clamps his mouth shut so as not to curse the gods. It's not their fault. Well, it's only one of their faults, but that's not important right now. Hades wouldn't do this just for spite.
"Then why lie to us?" Emma asks. "Why send us after dead fruit?"
"Because he doesn't want us coming with him to Storybrooke," he says. It's perfect. Send as many of the heroes away as he can so he and Zelena can do whatever they like in the world of the living. Take over the town, kill the opposition. He can even imagine them making a martyr out of Snow and her little babe on Main Street. He should ask her what to do, what the plan is. They've always talked out how to defeat these villains before. But this time, he knows what the plan is, what it has to be. She's on all fours, feeling around for anything she can, rambling on...
Not leaving.
The Savior is crawling around grasping at straws while Hades could be taking Henry, David, Regina, and the others prisoner right now.
"Hades tricked us into coming down here. There's no telling what he's done to your family, or what he'll do if he reaches Storybrooke."
As if to punctuate the notion, the ground rumbles, nearly knocking Emma off her feet as soon as she stands. The portal will close, trapping her here and trapping her family and her town with Hades. She needs to leave. She has to go.
"We need to get out of here," he says, holding her arm.
"Not without ambrosia. It's the only way we can-"
"We'll find another way out, I promise. But we have to go." Holding her wrist to steady her, he lets her run ahead just a few paces. It does him in—when she turns around and looks for him like she always does, making sure he's still there. Grabbing his hand, she runs with him through the tunnel toward the elevator.
I can't take the chance that I'm wrong about you.
She'd left him behind before, chained and screaming her name like his life depended on it...and, in every way that counted, it had. He'd been too thick to notice, but she'd ensnared him the moment he'd torn his eyes off the compass and gazed up at her, suddenly wanting nothing more than to kiss her. She'd haunted him after that, in more than one world, as he couldn't stop wondering what it would be like if she were next to him. She'd made him look at everything—especially himself—differently. Talk about thick—he'd only half-known why he did the things he did after meeting her and couldn't even call it love until they actually had kissed. And if he loved her, he couldn't let her stay down here.
"Come on! We don't have much time before the portal closes!" she yells, looking back at him as he stops in front of the elevator. Can he even do this, look her in the eyes and make her go without him?
"What?" she demands, anger already flashing in her eyes that he's not right behind her in the elevator.
Of course he can do this. It's True Love. He forces himself to smile at her.
"I'm not going up with you. I never was. We're never going to find anything up there to save me."
She looks at him as if he's gone mad.
"But, you said..."
"It was the only way I could get you to leave that chamber."
"No. Killian, I came to the Underworld to save you. I'm not going back without you," she says, tugging on his arm, trying to pull him into the elevator. As many times as she's overpowered him, she still can't make him budge if he doesn't want to move.
"I'm afraid we don't have that choice, love." Her entire head starts trembling. "Look, I just want to say my goodbyes down here. Without everyone watching."
There's not a day will go by I won't think of you.
Good.
"No!" Tears already stream down her face.
"We've already had more time than we were ever meant to," he says, unable to make it above a whisper. The odds of them meeting at all, the number of times they'd been separated—and every time, they'd made it back to one another, each one loving the other more for it.
"That's not true."
"We both know it is. You should have let me go in Camelot. Don't make that mistake again."
She's almost convulsing as the tears fall, locking eyes with him so hard, as if she could will him to go back up there with her.
"I just..." Her voice cracks, sending a tear rolling down his cheek. "I don't know how to say goodbye."
"Then don't," he says, shaking his head. He can touch her and stay true to his word, he decides, cupping her cheek, brushing away the tears. She will find a way to move on. There's too much love in her for her to keep it all walled up again. So many lives change when she decides to follow her heart. "Just promise me one thing. If I helped take off that armor, don't...put it back on just because you're going to lose me."
Another person she'll lose. He can't hold back anymore, and so he cries, and so she leans into him and holds him. He runs his fingers through her hair, feels the weight of her head against his. For this one, perfect moment, he has no doubt in his soul he's a hero. This, this here is his happy ending, and one he never would have earned if he'd been anything less. Emma Swan, holding him close.
"Promise," she sobs, pulling away and locking eyes with him again. "But then you have to promise me something, too. Don't let me be your unfinished business. Move on from here. Don't wait for me to show up."
He wouldn't have minded.
"Aye, love. I think I can manage that." He'll try to find peace, and then, one day, he'll find a way for her to bypass this place altogether. So that, after what he prays to the gods will be a long, long time from now, she can join him without regret, without unfinished business. She gives him a small, sad smile and backs into the elevator, letting him guide her to it. Boundless, gorgeous eyes. Her last request of him completely selfless. Her red leather jacket he's learned to look for in a crowd—he'll never have the chance to let her know he's always found it rather arousing. He can't now; he has to pull down the gate.
They grip the bars from either side.
So many times, he'd thought about telling her he loved her and decided not to. That they found each other at all kept him grateful.
Not satisfied, but grateful.
"I love you," he murmurs, nearly interrupting her returned affections with one last kiss. Their hands hold the other one's head, tongues trying to soothe, souls memorizing every little detail. If he doesn't stop, he won't let her go.
And it's True Love, and that means knowing when to let go.
Closing the gate all the way, he smiles, lost in how she watches him.
Don't think I'm taking my eyes off you for a second.
I would despair if you did.
She clasps his hand as the elevator begins to ascend, the rattling more like funeral bells. Rubbing her hand is no longer good enough, so he kisses it, the way he should have kissed her hand at the very start, like a gentleman. When at last even it is no longer in his reach, he forces himself to watch her go through his tears. A wave of emptiness washes over him when she disappears from view, the last he'll see of Emma Swan for a very long time, and he's so grateful.
Unsatisfied, but grateful.
A/N: Oh my. Who would have thought bringing Arthur into the mix would lighten the mood? I obviously do not own any Elton John songs or any other reference I make to anything in this fic. Thank you for reading. Coming up? A hero.
