My beautiful Swan,
I simply cannot describe the depth of how sorry I am.
There are no words adequate enough for me to possibly convey how much you mean to me, how burdensome and utterly terrifying this was. The words that I can speak, well to be quite blunt they would have made me feel like an outright git for saying them on such a night, in light of everything.
Your words last night gave beats to my still heart, just as you had when we first met. No matter the time it took for you, Swan, nothing has been more of an honor than earning your heart. I told you I would win it someday and am truly blessed for such a dream to have come true.
Forgive me if I still can't quite believe I could ever deserve a woman as fierce and brilliant as you, but if I am to trust someone's judgment, it would be you. Thank you for believing in me, reminding me to want better for myself as well as others. You stand behind every heroic act I was able to serve.
You are by far the bravest woman I have ever known–never more so than when you allowed me to hold you when you felt anything but.
I'll understand if you wish to not be there and I do not ask it of you. All I ask is that you remember that there is no one in any world, in any realm, whom I love more than you.
I can't wait to see you again - but take your time, my love.
Eternally yours,
Killian
She read the letter over and over again, tracing his elegant script with her fingers and hastily swiping away every tear that dare stain the words.
She wanted to say she was okay, but she had no one to fool, sitting at the kitchen table inside the empty house that never had the chance to hold its promise. She knew the real version in Storybrooke would be just as tainted as this one, no longer representing what she could have, but instead a reminder of what she had lost.
Her thumb brushed over his use of the word heroic. She of all people knew how demanding the job of a hero was so his decision did make some sense to her. He was tired; tired of sacrificing everything he'd fought to keep, very rarely enjoying a moment's peace afterward. His most recent one, and perhaps the most the heroic of all, had led to his death, to here, now. She wanted to blame Hades, she wanted to blame Liam–but they were not the reason Killian felt as he did. The look in his eyes last night hadn't been sad, angry, or fearful; it had been the gaze of a boy who wanted the life with his family he had lost, where monsters didn't threaten those he loved and his heart felt no pain.
Her heart still felt his pull, their tether, so she knew he hadn't left yet. She thought about venturing out to the graveyard, to watch his headstone tip over as he finally found the peace he sought. She thought about watching it happen, standing there helpless behind the start of the bridge, sure to be holding herself from running until she couldn't anymore. No option would be the right one, the painless one. Such a thing didn't exist.
The part of her soul that tugged her back to that lost little girl desperately pushed on her shoulders to keep her rooted in the chair, telling her not to move, not to face, not to acknowledge the loss she was about to once again endure.
Over time and without her consciously realizing it, that part of her had shrunk, through the love of her family, her son, her friends, but above all, her Killian. He had erased the jagged marks made on her heart, rewriting them until they bore no significance, so while this loss would be the biggest of them all, she owed it to him to at least not leave it the way that they did.
She would never forgive herself if the last image she had of him was when she had looked out the window down the hall that faced the street and found him curled up in a chair on the porch, not leaving until the sun rose.
One last time, she ran to him.
He could see the Jolly Roger rocking on the open, crystal blue waves, its sails beckoning as they billowed with the call of the wind. The smell of the salty sea and crisp air filled the cavern and Killian allowed his eyes to close and his lungs to breathe deeply.
"It's been a long time, brother, but we shall finally return home," he heard Liam sigh.
Home, he repeated silently. The Jolly had been his home for centuries, his life spent traveling the realms and answering to no one but himself until the day he set foot in Storybrooke and saw what life really could be, what a home could be; a place, a family, a person–wherever one felt his heart resided.
An angelic voice broke through. Home is the place, when you leave you just miss it.
He turned around, his last shredded piece of hope destroyed when his eyes found no blonde hair, no red jacket at the entrance of the cave. He glanced at the people who'd come to become his friends, his family–their sacrifices and faith in him entirely misplaced, especially as they stood in support to bid him farewell. His eyes were stuck on Henry, who was palming the chained ring Killian had bestowed upon him just before he'd walked up the bridge.
"Do me one favor, son, and give this to your mother when she's ready. Take care of her for me."
Henry nodded at him again now, clenching the ring in confirmation of his promise.
"Killian, there isn't much time, we must go," Liam spoke behind him.
Another glance toward the entrance, hoping, praying, wishing, begging his heart to summon her to him, to see her one last time, even if it broke him all over again.
A hand on his shoulder reminded him to keep walking. He watched every one of them nod and wave, none of their smiles the one he ached to see. He walked backward until he couldn't anymore.
The brightening light blinded him when he faced it head on, bathing them both in warmth and peace as they walked toward it.
Turn around.
His footsteps stopped, his back becoming rigid as he felt the call.
Just one more time.
He felt the prick of tears in his eyes because he knew. He could feel it. Feel her. Still in disbelief, still in doubt, his movement was slow. He looked over his shoulders and a breath he hadn't known he was holding left him when he saw her. Her hands were on her knees, her shoulders shaking from being out of breath but she was looking at him and suddenly the light behind him no longer called to him. The warmth evaporated, the image of his former life slowly fading away as he turned back to his brother.
"You're not coming with me, are you?"
He shook his head, his eyes burning from the tears he held back. "I can't–my future…it's with her."
"If that is what you wish, little brother, then I shall not stand in your way," Liam replied, placing his hands on Killian's arms.
"Younger brother," he corrected though no annoyance filled his tone. He rushed forward and embraced the man who'd taught him everything he knew, his tears falling onto the other man's coat. His brother, his best friend. "I love you, Liam. I'll see you again someday."
"Not too soon, I hope. Take care of yourself, Killian," were Liam's last words as the light engulfed him, the sound of crashing waves the last remnant before silence once again filled the cavern.
Killian took a deep breath, not bothering to wipe the wetness from his cheeks as he turned and strode back across the bridge, sheepishly avoiding everyone's gazes except for one.
She was standing upright, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape, and he smiled when he saw her take a hesitant step forward. He picked up his pace and that was all it took to send her running straight into his arms.
"Killian," she cried. "Killian you didn't–why didn't you go?" Her voice was so small, so unlike Emma, all he could do was hold her tighter. He could see the little girl in her glistening eyes, the one that had been left far too many times to believe she wasn't now, and he vowed to never put doubt in her heart again.
His left arm hugged her shoulders, keeping her chest against his, as his fingers curled a strand of hair behind her ear. "Turns out I have a bit of unfinished business here."
His favorite grin crossed her lips then, the one that squeezed her lips together and crinkled her eyes. "What is it?" The question echoed, bringing forth the memory of when she'd asked what his happy ending was, only this time, her voice didn't carry the qualm it once did.
He smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "You," he whispered against her skin.
When he pulled back he saw two fresh tears fall from each of her jade-colored eyes, and it was one of those weak moments when he wished for two hands, two thumbs, to brush the drops away. He settled for his one, whisking it away while his lips kissed the other.
They gazed at each other for a long moment, not saying anything, just feeling each other. She dropped her head to his chest as they swayed in place. "I knew I would stay if you came," he admitted softly.
She pulls back and looks at him. He can't quite read her expression. "But–" she stuttered. "What if I didn't?"
"I knew you would," he says, no doubt in his voice.
"How? I mean, after last night…"
He put a finger to her lips, then moved his hand back to her cheek, his heart sighing when she turns to kiss his palm. He looks at her and sees their future; seeing her smile first thing when he wakes up, the smell of hot cocoa filling the house as they day by day make it theirs, and he thinks that maybe it was never about being deserving of such love, but about taking a hold of it, cherishing it, and never letting it go.
He feels one last tear slide down his skin as he twists his fingers in her hair, gathering the soft curls in his palm as his thumb brushes the small dimple in her jaw. "When you love someone, you know."