"That'll be a scar," Killian smirked at her from the doorway. Emma made a face at him as the wise woman examined her arrow wound.
"You're just sad you don't have one," she quipped back, grimacing as cold, shriveled fingers poked and prodded the red, angry line below her collarbone.
"You're just sad you do!" He sputtered finally, out of retorts for now. She watched as he walked out to enjoy the sunshine. The wise woman shrugged.
"I think it looks quite nice, actually."
Emma fidgeted with the bandage looping over and all around her wound. The wise woman had said she'd have a scar and that it would ache as time passed, but she found it a small price to pay for her life.
"Hey! Jones!" She nodded him over, and they set off back to his ship together. Maleficent's last magic had sent them to Killian's time, true, but several days before they were supposed to arrive.
"I think it's time I told you what you've got to do."
August hadn't been this worried about Grace since they were twelve. She'd nearly ripped her own throat out on a barbed wire fence.
He can still see the thin line of blood, arcing across her neck as her pulled her back.
This is different. He found Jiminy outside, shut up in a bottle. Apparently, Grace had taken advantage of Allen's disappearing army and decided to gain vengeance for her father.
The castle steps were smooth and lacquer-red with blood, and August climbed each one dreading the moment when he'd find out whose. The stairs were carved of grey granite, flecked with silver and pearl-white. At the bottom he could see stripes of stone, glimmering in the dawn's half-light. The further up he went, the darker and wider the stream of blood became, obscuring all the splendour of Allen's wealth.
August reached the top step slowly and hesitantly. With trembling fingers he drew aside a gauzy white curtain stretched across the doorway.
It was Allen dead there, white-gold crown set before his corpse, drenched in thick, half-dry blood. August breathed relief, pure and light for a moment, before he noticed a second figure, this one with washed-out red hair, quiet and serene in the windowframe.
"Grace?" She turned her head, just slightly, as though it required great effort, and smiled at him. He rushed forward, trying to reach her, but her head fell to the side of her chest, and he was too late.
His tears fell in the pool of red surrounding Allen, but they were lost in the blood and disappeared.
"Come on." Emma swooped past Killian, the coat she borrowed from him swirling around her ankles.
"So what am I supposed to do?" Getting no answer, Killian scoffed. "You said you were going to tell me!"
"I am. Just wait." He rolled his eyes, but kept a step behind her as she stalked purposefully down the worn wood of the docks. A black raven in his coat, he couldn't help thinking she'd never looked less like a swan than she did now.
"Two, three, Five, seven..." Emma was counting off the buildings under her breath, eyes moving quickly from face to face.
"A tavern? Lass, if you wanted to get drunk, I could do far better than this!" Killian seemed a bit affronted at this offense to his (rather large) rum supply.
"We're not here to get drunk, Killian," she rolled her eyes right back at him, "we're here to talk to someone." And without a further word, she swept into the shabby, salt-stained bar.
Killian grumbled a bit, glanced around to see if anyone was watching... And followed her.
The shack was crowded and wavery, films of grease and smoke obscuring both vision and smell. He wrinkled his nose, unaccustomed to such thick air after so long in the future, and before that at sea. Far at the back, he spotted a glimmer of gold and a smear in black that could only be Emma. He pushed through the crowd, making his way to her side.
There he found her speaking to a lovely, dark-haired woman whose smile seemed to light up the room.
"Killian! This is Milah." Emma smiled tightly, gesturing to the woman.
He glanced at her, confused as to why she mattered, but Emma merely nodded and said something about drinks. He didn't see her for the rest of the night, but he hardly noticed, so engaged was he in conversation with Milah.
She was so enamoured with his stories, her eyes lit up with a thousand lands she'd never seen before, and he could almost forget. A wide starry sky, hands clasped in trust, blonde hair beneath his fingers and warm lips against his... But when the dawn came, he found her sitting small and dark at the end of the dock.
Her back was to him, silhouetted against the silver-white sky, and the light danced through her hair and at the corners of her eyes.
She was the saddest and most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. By far the loneliest.
So he sat beside her.
"The day after tomorrow, you're going to sail away with her." Emma didn't even need to look to know it was him. They'd spent so much time together that she knew his walk, the rhythm of his heart, the timing of his breath.
"You'll steal her away from her husband, and for some ten years you'll be blissfully happy." Killian's heart nearly stopped in his chest. "You'll love her." Emma sniffed, and he noticed the brightness of tears her eyes.
"And then one day, when her husband is given a choice, he will make a deal. He will become something horrible, because he wants to protect his son. And he will become the most powerful user of magic in all the realms. He makes a curse. And he carefully puts that curse into place. And everything I've already told you about happens."
She laughed mirthlessly. "All because his wife couldn't convince him to run away and be happy with her. All because she convinced you."
"I-" Killian tried to speak, tried to find words through the frozen haze in his mind.
"But before that, before all of that, you come back. You return to this town, and her husband is angry. He's just lost his son, and you have a way to get him back. And he kills her. Milah, the woman you love, he rips her heart out. He crushes it to dust, and she dies in your arms. And for three hundred years you look for revenge." Killian couldn't breathe. The pale sky was melting into him, the ice in his heart freezing everything.
"To fix this timeline-" He gasped in shock, clutching his chest.
"She needs to die," Emma shook her head. Killian stood, the pieces clicking in his mind.
"You brought me here. You're here to convince me to take her with me." Emma stood as well, opening her mouth to talk. But he didn't want to listen. "You know! You know she'll die!" He dragged his hands back over his head, tears falling over his cheeks.
"Killian-!" Emma bit her lip as he cut her off.
"No! You brought me here to kill her! Or did that not occur to you? Did you not think? I-..." His voice broke. "She'll die if she leaves with me. She'll die."
"I know! I know, Killian! But how many people will die if she doesn't? We're all doomed otherwise. I am sending her to her death!" The tears she had been holding back all this time streamed down her face, lip trembling and hair clinging to her cheeks. "Do you think I don't know? I am killing her. But if I don't, someone- something else will. This will destroy you both." She wiped her tears away resignedly, face suddenly emotionless and eyes like steel. "I can only hope I can put you back together. If I don't do this, so many people will never exist." Killian tried to interrupt and she put her full weight behind her as she pushed him back. "I will never exist, Killian!" He stopped, eyes wide and face still. "My son will never exist!" She looked desperately up at him, then smiled wearily, seeing nothing but failure. "Never mind. Just- never mind."
She swung around, walking up the gangplank to the Jolly Roger.
Killian was still processing all of this when she turned back to shout something at him.
"She's a part of you! Without her, without her death, you will never be yourself!"
Emma spent the night curled up on a spare bed, wrapped in Killian's coat and breathing in the same smell that screamed of home. Of lazy days talking on the couch, of baking crappy birthday cakes and walking Henry to the bus stop. Of long nights spent just spent breathing each other in, of beanstalks and giants and sword fights and love.
She could almost forget. But he was a part of her, and she was helpless to that.
They avoided each other all of the next day. That night, however, Killian found himself face-to-face with Milah.
"Oh, hello again!" She was extraordinarily pleased to see him, and despite his wish to keep her alive, Emma's words kept echoing in his head.
They spoke of far-off lands and sea winds until her husband found her. Killain couldn't find any sympathy within himself for this man, one who'd eventually tear out the heart of a brave, adventurous woman. Who'd cause so much pain and death and destruction for the sake of his own heart.
And the minute Milah walked away with her son and husband, he knew what his decision would be.
He knew he'd find Emma aboard the ship. She liked it there, liked being high above the water, wind in her hair and salt in her eyes.
"Hello again." She looked down at him, surprised.
"Oh, so we're talking again now?" She smirked down at him tentatively. He gave her a fair smirk of his own, scrambling up the side of the ship to sit beside her.
"I just came to say goodbye," he managed finally. She swallowed, looking over at him. He kissed her.
It was different from the kiss they'd shared before, hesitant and gentle. This kiss was desperate and longing and pain and truth. When he pulled away, he held her face between his hands.
"I'm not used to this kind of responsibility," he said quietly. "I can take care of a ship and a crew, but that's it. I've never needed more. I've run from anything more. Been running all my life." He looked up, squinting at the gulls wheeling in the sun. He looked back at Emma. "But I love you. I love you more than I thought was possible to love, and I can't bear the idea that I could prevent your existence. That I could stop everything- everyone you love, from being. And I'm scared, so scared." Their hands twined, rebelling against both of their wills. "I might never see you again." She smiled, a single tear dropping off the side of her chin.
"Don't worry," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You will."
He looked up at her, and he knew she was right.
She watched from the harbor as he sailed away. The stars were lost in the crashing of the water, the wide sky studded with clouds. But when she closed her palm, she swore she could feel his fingers in hers.
She reached up to her necklace, and when the next wave fell upon the sand, she wasn't there to see.