Hellooooo?
SPOILERS FOR 4x12 EVERYONE, STOP READING IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT YET.
Is anyone there? Still alive after that episode and the knowledge we'll have to wait three months for the real CS conversation? I'm disappointed, but I do kind of understand why they waited, though it's not something I would have done if I wrote it. The build-up felt disproportionate to what we actually saw from Emma and Killian and Gold. I DID love the whole Belle-to-the-rescue thing though, so I'm overall rather happy :D
YOU CAN READ AGAIN =D
So, about this chapter, and Emma's reaction to Killian and Leia's relationship in general, yes-it is a little like one step forward, two steps back. My Emma is still scared and though she's trying her best to trust Killian with her heart, it's a BIG step for Emma, so when she sees what she perceives as a threat, she backs away really f'ing fast.
And yes, of course her hormones are starting to play up as wel ;)
Okay, now... Just a little sidenote, I've been picturing Roland (Future Roland that is, who will be featured in the next chapter) looking somewhat like Bellamy Blake from The 100 ;) Just an FYI.
Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!
Leave a little review! You know you waaaaannaaaa :D
Love, Annaelle
PS Thanks to JustSmileBFF and DancingDoula for beta'ing!
Chapter Six—Across The Universe
Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup
They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind
Possessing and caressing me
Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes
They call me on and on across the universe
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box
They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe
Sounds of laughter, shades of life are ringing through my open ears
Inciting and inviting me
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on, across the universe
Nothing's gonna change my world.
—Across The Universe, The Beatles
Charmings' Royal Court, the Enchanted Forest—19 years into the future
"So," Henry leans back on his throne—his grandfather's throne (and his mother's), he remembers with a sharp pang of pain to his heart—, staring at the young man before him, trying to discern any of Robin's features in his face, "You're the one that took care of my sister when she ran away?"
Roland looks up at him defiantly and Henry can't resist a chuckle—there's that spirit he was looking for. "I was… She almost got herself killed when she ran into George's soldiers; I stepped in. I might have had somewhat disillusioned ideas about royalty, but even I would not stand by and let grown men attack a defenceless fifteen-year-old girl."
Henry inclines his head and sighs heavily, the weight of his grief momentarily suffocating him before he manages to get a hold of himself, reminding himself that he has many things to live for—to fight for. He has his wife and his son, his uncle and his sister and his entire kingdom.
Leia's kingdom.
"I am grateful for that," Henry finally speaks, smiling sadly at Roland, "For a while, we were afraid we'd never see her again. And thank you," he leans forward, his eyes burning with unshed tears and his heart clenching with pain, "for stopping her from doing something she would truly regret today. I do not presume to know how you managed to get through to her, but all I care about is that you did."
He had been terrified to see his sister lose herself to her power when she took down their foes, terrified because he couldn't help her, he couldn't bring her back from sinking into the darkness—but Roland had.
Roland had been able to talk Leia down from the edge, and Henry will be forever grateful for that.
Henry watches the younger man shuffle around awkwardly and chuckles, rubbing his fingers over his forehead as he contemplates how to broach the next subject.
"I knew your dad," he says slowly, eyeing Roland curiously, "and I know he'd be proud of you."
He watches as Roland stiffens, his jaw thickening with tension.
Henry sighs and adds, "I'm not telling you because I want to rub in that I knew him—I'm telling you because I realize that you probably don't have a lot of memories of him. I'm telling you this because I think you should know that your father would be proud of you." He doesn't mean to sound forceful or angry, but his patience is worn thin today and damn it, he is just trying to be nice.
Roland is silent for a long moment before he nods tersely.
"Thank you," he replies gruffly, looking down at his feet before continuing, "And I do care for Leia—I didn't want to see her lose herself either."
Henry smiles wryly—his sister just had to inherit his mother and grandmother's taste in men, didn't she?—and looks down again, biting his lip as he considers his options.
He and his mom and grandpa had decided, before everything had happened, that they wouldn't ask Leia to take the throne to the Charmings' kingdom until she'd turned twenty-one, at the very least. Right now, Henry is King to both kingdoms—the one that had been his grandma's by birth right and the kingdom the Charmings had taken back from George and Regina—but he knows that reigning over a kingdom that large on his own simply isn't doable.
The throne to the Charmings' kingdom should be Leia's, they had all agreed, and it will be hers too, once she feels she is capable of becoming Queen—which, to his regret, also pertains to the day she'll have to pick a suitor and marry.
He'll be very careful to look at the men she'll be spending time with after the Prince Derek fiasco—he refuses to let his sister get played like that again, and he hasn't forgiven himself for not seeing it as a ploy to take their throne.
He likes Roland though—he had when Roland was a kid and he does now. He supposes he wouldn't mind so much if his sister decided to spend some more time with him.
"What about my mother?" Roland's question catches Henry off-guard, and he's not entirely sure what to say. He feels horrible, but according to the laws, Maid Marion will have to be either executed or locked up for life on treason charges, and he's pretty sure Roland knows that too.
"For now," Henry sighs, "I'll leave her where she is. If you wish, I can ask Leia to let you into the cell as well." He sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose, "But I can't let her go, Roland. She attempted to have all of us killed, including my three-year-old son. Even if I wanted to, I can't—"
"That's not what I meant," Roland interrupts harshly, surprising Henry a little with his candour, "I just… If she is to be executed for her crimes…" they both swallow thickly and look away from each other, "…I just want to say goodbye to her. I want her to know that I forgive her. That is all."
Henry inclines his head and offers Roland a sad smile. "I can grant you permission for that."
Roland nods tensely and the two men fall silent.
"I suppose," Henry says after a short, tense silence, "that you would like to know why I asked you to come see me before you left." He knows Roland snuck into the castle late last night—or early this morning—and into Leia's bedchambers—he's certain nothing happened; Leia needed comfort, not romance; so he let it slide—and it intrigues him to see someone so invested in his baby sister's happiness.
It also gives him hope when he's certain he can't feel any positive emotion anymore.
Roland nods, looking up at Henry with something quite close to respect in his eyes. "Aye, that would be pleasant—a thief does not get granted an audience with the King without being under arrest all that often."
Henry chuckles—and he once again wonders how he can feel amused and laugh when he just watched his mother and his grandfather die—and moves, slowly getting up from his throne to approach the younger man that might have become his step-brother, had Fate been kinder to them. "My sister," Henry starts slowly, hesitantly—he doesn't want to do this, he doesn't want to be right about this, but he knows Leia, and he knows it's only a matter of time—, "My sister needs… Freedom," he concludes, "She needs to be out in the world and feel unburdened by palace life, especially now."
He looks down, willing the horrifying image of his mother and grandfather's mangled bodies from his mind, and sighs, "To be honest, were I not King, I would need the same thing. But Leia… Leia is wild and untamed and she needs to be free."
He can see the bewilderment in Roland's eyes, and he supposes he needs to be more precise about what he needs from him—but it feels necessary, even if he is saying these things only for his own benefit. "Leia is going to leave the castle," he continues bluntly, "Whether tomorrow or next week, she's going to leave."
"Apologies," Roland shakes his head and sighs, "But I fail to see why this would concern me."
Henry claps his hand on Roland's shoulder, looking the young man in the eye as he chokes, "I need you to take care of her when she leaves—keep her out of danger. I know you care for her, and I know you travel the whole kingdom… Take her with you—show her the world if she desires to see it… And then bring her home. Please."
Henry can see the confusion and conflict in the young man's eyes—he does not really want to think about why he is willingly letting his baby sister travel the kingdom, on her own, with someone she has a somewhat complicated but romantic history with (that is what he managed to understand, in any case, last time she had gotten drunk on Grumpy's wine and came crying to him), but he knows that he is going to have to let her go either way, and he'd rather it'd be with someone he knows and trusts than with a stranger.
"Leia is perfectly capable of handling herself, Your Highness," Roland replies a little frostily, "I assure you she will not take to having a babysitter assigned to her care lightly."
"Oh, I'm well aware," Henry grumbles, turning around to resume his seat on the throne, "But I'm willing to deal with my sister's wrath if I know she'll be safe." He almost chokes on the next words, because no matter how true they are, it doesn't make them hurt any less, it doesn't bring back his mom or his grandpa, and he needs them—so much it feels like he's falling apart at the seams and barely holding it together.
"I need to know she'll be okay," he whispers, "She, Graham, Rosanna and my boy are all that is left of our family—I need her to be okay. I can barely hold myself together," he admits shakily, "I am not strong enough to be her shoulder to cry on as well."
The admission takes a lot out of him and he loathes that he feels that way because he knows he is all Leia has right now—Ruby, Graham and Rosanna notwithstanding—he is her big brother and he should be there for her when she needs him, but he just can't.
He can't.
But he needs to know Leia is okay, and he knows that if she is with Roland Hood, she'll be okay.
'After all,' he muses as he waits for the younger man's answer, 'Roland really is his father's son.'
.
.
.
Storybrooke General Hospital, Storybrooke, Maine—present time
Emma feels restless, almost like a caged animal.
She should be out there, fighting to protect the town and her family, the people she loves—instead, her parents had practically ordered her to stay at the hospital, refusing to let her leave (they'd even gone as far as threatening to have Regina magically seal her in Anna's hospital room to keep her there) after she'd hit her head on the wall and lost consciousness for literally a few seconds.
She rolls her eyes impatiently—studiously ignoring how it makes her feel just a little bit dizzy—and glances at the girl on the bed behind her.
As it turned out, it had been Anna's magic spinning out of control that had caused the massive earthquakes all throughout Storybrooke, and she loathes to think what might have happened had Killian not realized what was going on and clapped the cuff on Anna's arm.
Of course, the bracelet has only taken away Anna's magic—and it is not even a permanent solution. It has not erased her ability to scream at the top of her lungs like she's a pig for slaughter (maybe Emma's exaggerating a little, but she's in a really foul mood and she can't help but feel hostile towards the girl who she believes is responsible for her problems with her pirate).
(And okay, it is really not Anna's fault at all, just Emma's, but she refuses to acknowledge that, because that would mean admitting she was wrong, and she just… She doesn't know how to.)
But because Anna insisted on being noble enough to take a damn Curse for Emma, she lost control over her magic after being hit by said Curse and then knocked Emma against a wall—which made her parents exclude her from the search for the Snow Queen and King George.
Yeah, Emma has very few warm feelings for the girl right now.
Anna's been quiet for a while now, and despite Elsa being convinced the Curse should have killed her by now, Anna's heart monitor shows a steady heartbeat that only spikes when the Curse spreads—which was when she was screaming her head off.
They'd even tied Anna's hands and legs to the bed rails, to keep her from trashing around and accidentally hurting herself or anyone around her.
Regina theorized that maybe Anna's magic—now forced into submission by the cuff—was such an inherent part of Anna (perks of being born with True Love's Magic) that even the cuff couldn't take it away, only contain it, forcing it to turn its eye to the Curse that was trying to destroy Anna and fight it off.
Nothing can fight it off indefinitely though, and Regina suspects if this is the case (and it likely is), Anna's magic is only slowing down the Curse. The only visual effect of the Curse on Anna's body so far are her fingertips, which are blue and icy, clearly already frozen.
Well, that and she's completely out of it—when she's not unconscious, she's screaming in pain or begging random people to make it stop.
Emma grumbles when an elder nurse shuffles into the room again—to check on Anna's vitals as well as Emma's—and settles into the chair next to Anna's bed, forgoing the argument this time. The nurse may be graying and wrinkled, but the woman commands a certain type of respect with her steely gaze that even Emma's innate stubbornness knows not to mess with.
"How are you feeling, Sheriff?" the woman kindly inquires when she's done with Anna, moving to check Emma's pulse and pupils, "No headache or dizziness?"
"Nope," Emma sighs, wincing a little when the nurse moves to stand behind her to examine the small wound on the back of her head, "I feel just fine. Can I go now?" She grumbles under her breath when the nurse reminds her that she promised David and Snow she wouldn't leave the room before they came back to get her and crosses her arms over her chest, narrowly managing to stop herself from pouting like a petulant toddler.
"Fine," she mumbles, glaring at Anna's still form on the bed, "Fine. I'll wait."
She's not sure how long she sits like that after the nurse leaves the room again—she wagers it's actually been quite some time, since her arms and legs feel stiff as she gets up from the chair again—staring at Anna, wondering how one little girl could have stirred so many conflicting feelings in both her and Killian.
She hates to think about him right now—he'd barely even spoken to her when she had awoken; he'd just helped her to her feet before handing her over to her parents and moving to stand with Regina and Elsa—which had been a very clear statement to Emma.
He doesn't want anything to do with her right now.
(And she knows she can't blame him, not really, but she can't help it, because she knew it. Eventually, everyone leaves.)
She's abruptly broken from her musings when Anna stirs, the heart monitor emitting a shrill, high beep that gives her goosebumps as Anna moans painfully, her head rolling across the pillow as she struggles lightly against the soft leather cuffs that hold her arms restrained.
Emma stares at her for a split-second, wide-eyed and a little scared, because she might be a little prickly and angry right now, but she's not heartless, and she can't stand seeing a girl as young as Anna suffering through a horrid Curse that had actually been meant for her.
"Anna?" She moves hesitantly to Anna's side, reaching for her hand, "Anna, I'm not sure if you can hear me, but I'm here, okay? You'll… You'll be okay." For a moment, she feels bad about the lie, but then she can't because the girl will have to be okay—she's far too young to die like this, far too vibrant and strong and Emma can't let the damn Snow Queen kill someone the way she had killed Ruby—the way she is now trying to kill Anna.
She's going to find a way to cure Anna, no matter what it takes.
And then she can go back to being angry at her.
Anna just moans in pain and continues to pull at her restraints, but Emma takes some comfort in the fact that she's not screaming in pain yet.
And then Anna's eyes flutter open, the bright blue that feels so hauntingly familiar clouded with pain and confusion, but locked on Emma's in a way that unnerves her greatly. "Mama," Anna whimpers, "Mama, I tried. I'm so sorry. I tried—Mama…"
Emma's heart skips a beat and she chokes, pulling her hand away from Anna's like it burned her.
No… She shakes her head at herself and tells herself she's being ridiculous—there's no way… She would know, and it's not possible. She and Killian only spent one night together and it had barely been two weeks, and it's just…
Not. Possible.
"Mama, please," Anna whimpers, tears rolling down her cheeks, "I'm so sorry."
Anna came back from the future to make sure that the people—that she obviously does care about—wouldn't die, and she'd very obviously been trained in the same kind of magic Emma only recently realized she has as well.
What if she is?
Emma swallows thickly, her eyes locked on Anna's face, cataloguing every little thing—from the small indent in her chin (one that she loathes to admit she has too) to her thick, dark eyelashes, framing blue eyes that are too painfully familiar.
No.
No, Anna is not her daughter—Emma can't deal with what it would mean if she is.
She'd have to go through everything she went through with Henry all over again, because she can't take care of a baby—she can barely take care of herself—she's just not meant to be a real mother and she…
She can't.
Because Anna told them she didn't have a father.
Killian wouldn't be there to struggle with parenthood with her.
It would mean she's alone again—that another man left her pregnant and alone and she can't deal with that, not even if it's just a possibility.
Anna's not her daughter.
She. Is. Not.
"Sweetie," Emma chokes, stumbling back to the bed to hold Anna's hand, mentally telling herself that the girl is just scared, that it's normal to ask for her mother, that it doesn't mean Emma's her mother, "I'm sorry—it's okay… It's going to be okay."
Anna's hallucinating and in a lot of pain, of course she would ask for her mother, it's only natural.
That's what Emma tells herself anyway.
She sits by Anna's bed, holding her hand and whispering calming words for her benefit as well as Anna's—she doesn't allow herself to stop and think about the repercussions of Anna's words. She ignores the signs and big flashing arrows in her mind that try to convince her that it is not a coincidence that Anna called her 'Mama'.
It must be hours later when her phone rings, startling her from her spiraling thoughts—thank God for that, because she is seconds from another panic attack at the mere thought that the girl dying in the hospital bed could be her daughter.
If Anna dies, she will be responsible for her own daughter's death.
(She doesn't think she could handle that, so she refuses to think upon it any more. Anna's hallucinating. That's all there is to it.)
"Hello?" She asks curtly when she picks up, focusing on Mary-Margret's voice immediately, latching onto the story her mother is telling her, her heart speeding up when Mary-Margret regales how they tracked down King George with an old sword they'd gotten out of Gold's shop and a particularly nifty tracking spell from Regina—it had tracked down George and magically bound him wherever he was until they got there and took him.
"So, you have him at the station right now?" Emma gets to her feet, running her fingers through her hair, "I'm leaving now, I'll be there—"
"No!" Mary-Margret exclaims, and Emma stops dead in her tracks, frowning angrily—she's about to ask why the hell they would want to keep her in the hospital when her mother continues, rambling like she does when she's nervous. "No, look, someone should stay with Anna at all times—we can't risk the Snow Queen coming in and finishing her off. We still might find a cure for her and someone has to be there to hold her hand, Emma."
Emma groans petulantly, stomping over to the chair and throwing herself down on it, grumbling, "Well then send someone over here to sit with her. I did not sign up for babysitting duty."
"Well, we wouldn't want to inconvenience the Savior, now would we?" A very different voice sounds from the door—Emma jumps, her eyes wide as she takes in Killian's unusually cold demeanor, before muttering a quick goodbye to her mother and hanging up.
"Killian," she says shakily, trying not to look into his eyes as she gets to her feet, fidgeting nervously.
Now that he's here, she can see the things that she's been trying not to notice—the resemblances between Killian and Anna that are so painfully obvious she feels like a complete idiot for not seeing it sooner—and then it hits her again.
She's going to have a child with the man standing before her.
And he won't be there to help her—she doesn't know what happens to him, she really doesn't know anything, but she doesn't need to.
He leaves her.
He leaves her and she'll be pregnant and alone and it'll be Neal all over again.
"What are you waiting for?" He asks impatiently, one eyebrow raised at her—God, he looks just like her, how could she not have seen it?—, "I'm sure L—Anna wouldn't want to stand in the way of your crucial Savior-business."
And it's the second time he almost says something other than Anna when he's referring to the girl and it just makes Emma snap—it's a confirmation of something she didn't want to have confirmed at all.
He knows.
"Stop that, okay?" She cries out, shoving at him roughly, ignoring the burning of tears in her eyes. She can't explain why she lashes out at him—she just… he's there and she knows he's going to break her heart by leaving her and she's so scared.
"Stop pretending you don't know!" She spits—all the pieces of the puzzle are clicking together now, and she's terrified of what the entire image will look like, but she knows she's on the right track.
That's what changed between Killian and Anna.
He knows who she is.
He found out they have a daughter and he didn't bother to tell her about it!
"Pretend I don't know what?" He replies exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air as he stalks past her into the room.
She slams the door (no need to give the entire hospital a show) and glares at him, because he really has no right to be mad at her—he's the one keeping secrets and conspiring with this girl about God knows what while everyone else, including her, is in the dark.
"Don't," she hisses angrily, "don't. She called me 'Mama'. I know." Her voice nearly breaks and she wants to slap herself for sounding so goddamn vulnerable, because she can't be, she needs to be strong, because things are going to hell and she's going to have to take care of herself again, just like always.
Killian's eyes are wide and a little surprised, but she knows it's because he didn't expect her to find out, not because he's surprised they have a daughter.
"Emma, I—"
She cuts him off, shaking her head as she desperately searches for things she can use to continue to fight, to show him that she doesn't need him, because even if she does, it'll be better if he leaves now than later, when it's too late and he has her heart.
She can keep him at a safe distance now.
"So what, you found out and had fun planning how to get me knocked up? Like we didn't have enough shit to deal with?" The words feel like acid on her tongue, but she needs to say them because they're her only weapon against him and she needs it.
"Are you that desperate to get me to love you?" Her voice sounds cold and heartless even to her own ears, and she begs herself to stop, to not ruin this too, but she can't.
He lied to her.
"Trying to get me knocked up so I'd stay with you out of obligation," she laughs hollowly and glares at their daughter's still form on the bed before sneering, "Usually it's done the other way around, but I guess you always were the woman in this relationship. You know it won't work though, right?" She shrugs carelessly and tries not to look at him as she notes, "I'll just give her away, like I did Henry. Or have an abortion. I'm sure it's early enough."
"Enough."
She's surprised by his voice, but the moment she looks up at him, she knows she crossed a serious line. (Oh God, she suggested killing her baby, what the hell is wrong with her?)
"Enough," he repeats in the same icy, call voice that makes her hair stand on end, "I am not a desperate little boy you may yank around as you please, Swan. I did not fight my way through a Curse and two realms simply because I wanted to bed you—if that were it, I would have left the night Elsa came into town and you know it."
She swallows thickly, trying to find something to say, something witty or smart—anything to get him to stop talking.
"You should stop thinking the world revolves around you," he remarks, and she is still unnerved by how calm and collected he sounds, because he's a passionate man, and this is unlike anything she's seen from him before. "You're so caught up in how people have wronged you before that it doesn't even occur to you that you're not the only one."
"No!" Emma cries, her mood switching from fear to anger so fast she nearly gives herself a whiplash, "No! You don't get to pretend you understand! You can't understand what I had to go through! Nobody can—they left me! Everyone leaves me—even you are going to leave me, so don't you dare!"
"But I do understand," he shouts back, his voice hoarse and angry and hurt—and God, she wants to stop this, she should, because she can't stand it when he's hurting, but she's too scared—, "my mother died when I was four! My father abandoned me two years later and I had to live on the streets until Liam found me! I had no one but him and he died too! And then Milah died because of the Crocodile's petty jealousy and I was alone again! I understand all too well, Emma."
Her eyes are wet with tears as she chokes, "And yet you leave me anyway."
"No," he shakes his head, stalking forward to grab her shoulders and shake her lightly, "I don't leave, Emma. I die for you—for her. So you could live. And do you know what you do?" His voice is thick with pained and suppressed emotions that seem to force hers out into the open without her consent, "You abandon our daughter. You make her think that everything she does is wrong—that you wish she hadn't been born so you wouldn't need to be reminded of me."
Emma whimpers, squeezing her eyes so she won't have to look at him—so she can shut out what he's telling because she can't handle it.
She would never… She wouldn't.
Would she?
"You may have been dealt a shitty hand at the start of your life," Killian hisses, and she can hear the fear and the frustration in his voice, "But that gives you no right to treat me and our child the way you blame others for treating you. It makes you no better than them, no matter what excuse you tell yourself."
She can't hold back the pained sob that falls from her lips at that because he's right and it's horrible because she doesn't want to believe she will treat her child like that if she were to lose Killian but she knows that it's not unlikely.
She knows she might start pushing everyone away and that her baby would suffer because of it.
"Killian," she chokes, blinking up at him as tears roll down her cheeks, her fingers curling into his lapels, holding him to her—she does notice he doesn't try to pull away anymore and it offers her some meager comfort—as she sobs into his shirt, barely noticing how he strokes her hair, running his fingers through it and gently massaging her scalp.
"Shh, Emma," he whispers, "Shhh. We know now—we know what is going to happen. We can do things differently. We can change our fate, love. We just have to trust each other and try. You have to trust me."
She looks up at him in confusion, shaking her head a little. "Of course I trust you."
He looks away, but not before she sees the pain, the hurt she caused in his beautiful eyes, as he chokes, "Then why would you walk away from me? Why would you question my intentions at every turn?"
"I'm so scared," she chokes, terror coiling in her belly, always ready to prey upon her vulnerabilities and make her say and do stupid things, "Everyone I've ever been with is dead. Neal, Graham," she snorts a little and adds, "Even Walsh. I can't lose you too, Killian."
She pulls back when he snorts, surprised to see tears in his eyes too when he whispers, "Do you honestly believe I am not frightened? I would gladly give my life if it meant you and Leia would be safe, love—you know that. I don't want to die, but I am not foolish enough to believe I am immune to death simply because I managed to elude it for some time."
"You can't die," she whispers, stroking his cheek gently, "I need you. I can't do this without you."
"Luckily, love," he smiles wryly, "if there's one thing I'm good at, it's surviving."
He pulls her in for a hungry kiss and she gladly lets him, the tension in her shoulders finally abating, little by little, until she's completely relaxed in his arms—she's missed this.
She's missed being in his arms, feeling safe and sound and comforted.
She's missed him.
He breaks the kiss only when her lungs are screaming for air—his must be too—pressing his forehead against hers as they sway together in the middle of the room. "I am still quite cross with you," he whispers, "for not believing in us enough to know I would never betray your trust and bed Leia. Not to mention she's our daughter, it's quite horrifying."
She sniffles a little, smiling sadly as she replies, "I know. I'm sorry. I just—wait." She pulls away from him and stares at him, eyes wide as she whispers, "I'm already pregnant, aren't I? And we name her Leia?"
"Aye," he nods, smiling tightly, "And she's strong and brave and bloody brilliant." He blinks rapidly a few times, swallowing thickly as he extricates himself from her embrace, moving to stand next to Leia's bed as he reaches for their daughter's hand.
"We'll find a way to make this better, little love," he whispers and Emma nearly bursts into tears all over again, "I promise, I'll make this right. You just have to hang on a little longer."
She's horrible at standing by and not doing anything, so she steps up next to him, reaching out to touch his hooked arm as she adds, "We'll find a way. That's what we do—we don't give up on each other." She scolds herself for feeling like a giddy teenager when Killian smiles at her before he leans down to press his lips to Leia's forehead, his hand still holding Leia's and Emma still touching his hook.
And then the room is filled with bright white light, nearly knocking Emma off her feet before it dissipates as suddenly as it appeared, leaving only twinkling little lights floating in thin air. Emma stares at Killian, who's as wide-eyed and surprised as she is, staring at the little lights in wonder and amazement.
"Took you long enough," a soft, hoarse voice draws their attention back to the bed, where their daughter lays, her eyes open and sparkling with amusement. "You did it," Leia tells Killian, "I knew I liked you for a reason."
Emma watches in stunned silence as Killian hauls Leia up into his arms, hugging her tightly as he chokes on his tears of relief.
A small smile fights its way up to her lips when Leia wiggles and manages to get one arm free from Killian's bear hug and stretches it out towards Emma. "Come on," Leia says softly—Emma can see the fear of rejection in her daughter's eyes, and she hates her future self for ever having made Leia feel rejected—, "You belong in this hug too, Mama."
Emma chuckles weakly and lets Leia drag her closer, wrapping her arms around her future daughter and her pirate.
Yes. She does belong here.