A/N: This is it, guys. The last chapter. I'm kind of both happy and sad? I'm really going to miss writing this and I hope you've enjoyed reading this. First off, let me thank Steph - without who this RIDICULOUSLY WEIRD fic would seriously not exist and who encouraged the hell out of me to write and finish it. Ella and Amber are both betaing, proofreading, angels. The grammar would be atrocious, sentences would be unfinished, and who the hell knows what else would be wrong with this fic if I didn't have them. Then, I want to thank every one of you who has read, reviewed, and reblogged this fic. Seriously, it means so much.
I hope you enjoy it!
-/-
She spends the rest of the night packing like there's no tomorrow. Emma doesn't really have a plan on where they'll go, but she has some money saved up. They'll figure it out. She has to, or else who the hell knows what could happen next. Her shattered car window is replaceable. Her kid's life? Isn't.
They just can't stay here. And, well, if she leaves Gold and his brainwashed zombies (an unfair label - sure - but she's panicked and exhausted) will hopefully be satisfied enough to leave everyone the fuck alone. The thought is what keeps her going, what keeps her shoving clothes and dishware and whatever the hell she has into boxes. Before, when she was the type to cut and run, she wouldn't even pack before moving on to the next place. Maybe it's some small form of progress that she can at least do this, now.
She jolts when the sound of a door creaking open.
"What are you doing?" Henry asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when he walks into the living room in the middle of the night. She must have woken him up moving the dishware - the sound of it clanging at two in the morning likely wasn't ideal for the sleeping patterns of an eleven year old.
Emma pauses her frenetic packing and bites her lip, unsure of how to reply. She has to tell him the truth. "Packing. We're leaving. Go back to bed."
He wakes up pretty quickly after that, becoming rapidly more alert. "We're leaving this apartment?"
"We're leaving this town," she says, resolutely. "We're going to leave here and we're not going to look back."
"Why?" he asks, so innocently it sends pangs to her chest.
She can still see the damn bruise on his face.
"Because," she pauses to collect herself, the image of Martha Gust playing in her head like a film reel that can't stop mourning the loss of her son. Killed too young, she's never going to get to see him again. Marco and the son he lost, who drove himself insane in hopes to see some figment of him again. Emma could never see Henry again. The stress of it all is making tears collect in her eyes and she squeezes them shut to keep them from falling, taking in a shuddering breath before finishing her sentence. "I'm your mother. I can't be reckless. I can't be selfish. I need to keep you safe above everything else."
"I'm safe here," he says, so sincerely it breaks the damn levy and she can't hold back a sob.
"No, you're not, kid," she says through a hiccup, leaning down to eye-level with him and softly brushing his hair off of his forehead. "You're not safe here. Not as long as Gold is out here and he's coming after me. He doesn't care if he hurts you too. I can't let that happen."
He shakes his head, feverently. "You're giving him what he wants."
"I'm keeping you safe." she corrects, wiping under her eyes with a heavy sigh. "Go back to bed, kid. We're leaving in the morning."
He opens his mouth to argue with her, but eventually sags and heads back to his bedroom.
Henry may hate her for this. The thought makes her sick, but the thought of something happening to him makes her sicker.
-/-
Emma finally gets everything close to all packed up a few hours later. It's not dawn yet, but it's getting close to there. They'll have enough time to leave and book a hotel. Henry can catch up on his sleep in the car.
She still has to get the window repaired, but she'll deal with that once they get going. Maybe they'll go to Portland - it's far enough away to establish a safe distance from Gold and close enough that maybe David, Mary Margaret, and Elsa can come visit every now and then. They might forgive her for suddenly leaving without a goodbye. She's not hopeful enough to think Killian would. Emma suppresses the thought with a shake of her head, redirecting her focus to the task at hand.
It's time for them to go.
"Henry, wake up." she says, knocking on his door.
She's only met with silence.
Emma opens the door with a frown. She can see the outline of his body under a blanket, but he seems to be ignoring her.
She sighs in exasperation. "I know you're upset about leaving, but this is really for the best."
Still no response.
Emma frowns, moving to sit beside him on the bed. "The silent treatment? Really, kid?"
Something isn't right. She moves the comforter off the bed and is only met with a lump of pillows. Lead hits the bottom of her stomach and Emma can feel the blood draining from her face in horror.
"Shit," she exhales, the heels of her hands coming up to her temples, "Shit, shit, shit! Henry! Henry, where are you?!"
-/-
Emma nearly tears the apartment apart searching for him, but it's no use. He snuck out, apparently so upset at the prospect of leaving he'd rather run off somewhere else. It's not going to work out for him, of course. They're still leaving as soon as she manages to find him. He isn't the only one angry, now.
The fact that he's even doing this is all the more reason they need to get the fuck out of here. Hopefully nothing will happen to him in the meantime.
Emma pulls out her phone, shaking with panic. She intends to just shove it in her pocket before she looks around the block (Henry couldn't have gotten that far), but a sight on the display stops her.
6 missed calls from Killian.
Her phone was on silent as she packed. Emma frowns, pressing the button to call him back. Maybe he can help her figure out where the hell Henry is.
He answers quickly for it being as early as it is. "Swan?"
"Henry's missing," Emma says quickly, borderline hysteria making her barely intelligible, "he just left in the middle of the night, I don't know where he -"
"I have him, he's alright." Killian's reassures her and she could cry with unadulterated relief. "I'll admit I was surprised when he turned up on my doorstep at four in the morning, but after you didn't answer my calls I decided that he could wait on my couch until you woke up. The boy was saying how he didn't want to leave this town and all of his family and… me - would you know anything about that?"
Emma groans, putting her head to her forehead. Killian only lives five minutes from her and Henry has been over there before, for dinner and whatever else Killian offered. It makes sense that her son would choose to hide out there. She's so relieved she almost aches with the feeling, but she still dreads the conversation she's likely going to have to have with Killian when she comes to pick Henry up. The talk she's going to have with her son is going to make things even tougher, hell, Henry might just refuse to leave his apartment. "Why didn't you bring him over here immediately?"
"I didn't know if you were awake or not in the early hours of the morning, Swan. I wasn't going to knock on your bloody door when you weren't answering your phone only to turn right back around. If you didn't respond when it got later in the day, I would have."
She frowns, unable to find much wrong with his logic. "I'll be there in five minutes."
"He's still sleeping. I won't wake him if you don't want me to."
Emma is going to miss him, a little bit. "Thank you, Killian."
He sighs, the sound echoing over the speaker and his voice warming. "Anytime, Swan."
A lot, she amends internally. She's going to miss him a lot.
-/-
Emma raps on his door, shortly after, mentally preparing herself for the exchange she's about to have with the two of them. It's not going to be pretty, she knows that much.
"Killian?" she calls, knocking more on the door. "Killian? Open up."
The only sounds that greet her are the chatter of his neighbors next door.
She's getting really sick of not getting a response from people, today. Her nerves are already shot.
"Killian, come the fuck on, this isn't funny."
Emma swears she'll give him five minutes to open the door before she breaks it down.
Her blood runs cold when she tries the handle first and finds it's already open.
The apartment is empty. There's not a sound in the place except the eerie noise of his wood floor creaking as she walks across it. She calls out both of their names, hoping for a response she doesn't find. There's a blanket and a pillow still on his couch, both of which look like they've been dragged out from Killian's bedroom in a rush to accommodate his last minute visitor.
He left his phone and his jacket behind, both of which are incredibly unlike him. There aren't any signs of a struggle - though there might be now that she's raided his apartment like a woman possessed - there's nothing. They're gone. Just like that, in five minutes they've vanished.
Emma almost gives up the effort when she finds a note posted on the table.
"You know where to find them."
Gold really wasn't fucking around, after all.
-/-
"David," Emma says as soon as he picks up the phone, running down the stairs of Killian's apartment complex to get back to her car. "You said you wanted to help me take down Gold. That we needed to be a team."
"Yeah, I did," David replies, sounding a little confused. His voice cracks with sleep. It's barely light outside and she didn't even preface the statement with a hello. "Why? While I'm at it, why did you tell Lancel-"
"There's no time for that, David. Gold has Killian and Henry," she explains curtly, gritting her teeth.
"Shit," David curses, a rarity for him. "We're going to need backup."
"My thoughts exactly."
-/-
Emma heads to Gold's shortly after. It may be exactly where he wants her, but maybe she can use that to her advantage. She isn't the type of person to wait around when a narcissitic, sociopathic asshole with a capacity for murder has the people she cares about.
When she strides through the door, her eyes narrow on the front desk where a familiar face is seated.
"Merlin," Emma says, resolutely. She props her elbows on the counter in front of him and meets his eyes, pleadingly. "I need your help."
"Elizab- Emma? I don't…" Merlin trails off, caught by surprise. He stares at her for a minute, as if deciding what he should do next, almost looking as if he's experiencing some sort of moral crisis. Eventually he grabs a pen and scrawls something on the page in front of him, hunching over it in a weird way. "I can't help you. I'm sorry. It's against policy."
She's about to curse - a response that would pale in comparsion to the messages she left Whale - when he holds his hand out.
"No hard feelings?" he asks, eyes firmly holding hers.
Emma takes his hand and shakes it, feeling the crumpled paper in her hand. "I understand, Merlin."
And she does.
She's reminded of Killian's words from what feels like so long ago, "I have a friend on the inside, you could say."
Mystery finally solved.
"You should probably leave the building," he adds, still staring at her in a way that would be discomforting if she didn't know that he was trying to communicate a weird secret message with her.
"I'll do that." she says.
-/-
Emma walks out to the car where the other three are huddled. Mulan, Lancelot, and David are camped out in the back of Mulan's SUV. They were on duty when David and Emma stormed into the station asking for help and they were immediately on board.
"Emma, why are you back already?" Mulan asks, confused, as Emma opens the door to the backseat. "I thought the plan was for us to wait five minutes, then follow you in."
She unfolds the paper Merlin slipped her instead of replying, furrowing her eyebrows as she sees the words.
"Cameras are everywhere. I'll try disabling them in a little bit to give you some time. Victor can help," Emma reads aloud.
"Who is that from?" David asks, confused.
"My friend on the inside," she grins, dimples flashing. "He must have an idea of what's going on. I think he has enough backbone for multiple people, thankfully."
"Friend on the inside?" Mulan repeats, not faring any better in understanding than David.
"I tried to go undercover - it's a long story." Emma sighs. "The real question is where the hell is Victor?"
David digs in her bag for a minute before finding her phone. "You got a text from Spineless Asshole a few minutes ago, saying to meet him at a parking garage a block from here. This may be a dumb question, but who is Spineless Asshole?"
"That would be Victor," Emma nods, not sounding ashamed in the least. She must have changed his contact name to that the day he bailed, but maybe he can earn the right to have it changed back. "I guess he came back when shit hit the fan and has been skulking around since. Merlin is a lot smarter than he lets on. The question is how the hell we're going to do this."
David opens his mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. Lancelot and Mulan aren't faring much better. They sit in contemplation for a moment.
"I have an idea," Emma says, finally. "it may be crazy and stupid and ridiculous, but I have an idea."
"We're listening, Sheriff." Lancelot says with a kind smile.
She gives him a look, but all he does is look proud of himself for the line.
-/-
This time when she enters Gold's office, it's a lot less victorious. Emma attempts to be silent as she opens the - this time unlocked, he must have planned for this - door. She doesn't get further than a step into the room when she hears Gold speaking.
"I confess," Gold starts, facing the window with his back to her and sounding deceptively unruffled. "I was only expecting to find Jones there when my men came, thinking I'd be able to take care of him and lure you here at the same time. Imagine my pleasant surprise when I found your son, as well."
"You would have gotten what you wanted," Emma points out bitterly, standing a few feet behind him. "I was packing to leave. You never would have had to see me again."
"Hm, I suppose I just have excellent timing. You see, Miss Swan, I can't get what I want until you're dead," Gold replies, turning around to face her. He seems extraordinarily pleased with himself. "It'd be bad for business, you see. I need you to be dead so you can tell everyone how wrong you were, how great this company is, how you killed yourself in remorse for what you've done in almost ruining all of their lives without saying a single word."
"Suicide seems to be a recurring theme with you." Emma retorts stiffly.
Gold shrugs. "A rather blameless act, I feel."
Emma scoffs derisively, feeling nothing but disgust for the man in front of her. "Blameless, huh? You're a murderer and you know that."
He shakes his head with a broad, chilling smile. "I give people what they want. A solution to one of humanity's biggest fears: death. The afterlife isn't reassuring enough, you see, but this...this is something better. Something you can hear, see now. Progress towards true immortality."
"That's what you want, isn't it?" she asks, tilting her head. "To be immortal?"
Gold evades the question. "Do you how exhausting it is? To conquer everything from yourself to the town you live in. Past a point, you'd like to feel at least a bit intellectually stimulated. At least you posed a challenge, the sheriff, instead of Jones' pitiful excuse for playing my wife's scorned lover. There's a thrill to chasing people down, you see, conquering the unconquerable. Granted, you're much easier to squash than the concept of death itself, but-"
Emma narrows her eyes, voice monotone. "So you did all this because you were bored with your own success? What a tragic backstory."
Gold shakes his head. "That's where you're wrong, dearie. I don't need tragedies to justify my actions. My actions don't need justifying. My hands have remained clean throughout all of this and the people of this town will bend to my every whim."
"You like that a lot, don't you?" she asks through gritted teeth. "Having that power over people: the grieving orphans and widows, the legislators, everyone who has ever or will ever lose someone."
"You're right, I do," he replies, nonplussed. "I had control over all of them. I now control mortality itself. And now, I have power over you. So what you're going to do is end your own miserable excuse for a life so you - with your last miserable, aching breath - can realize just how much power I hold. That would bring me great satisfaction. I hear you don't feel a thing after a few seconds."
Emma thinks of Sydney Boyd and feels even sicker than she did before.
"And if I don't?" she challenges, jutting her chin forward.
"Well, then, you can watch them die."
Gold points to the cameras by his desk.
Killian and Henry, unconscious, in one room. David, Lancelot, and Mulan waiting anxiously in another room. Conversations still ongoing with dead people and their loved ones in dozens of different rooms.
"I upgraded my security, just as you suggested. I had cameras before, of course, but not quite so immediately accessible to me, thanks to one of my assistants. He even upgraded them for me just today," Gold explains with a broad, crocodile grin. "And guards...well, I've quadrupled those. Paid quite well, too, well enough to fully defend the premises and execute my orders."
"You…"
"Wouldn't? Of course not as messily as I almost killed you, I learned my lesson. You can't trust the desperate to do the work of the disciplined. These guards are far superior, reccomended to me by my old friends in the military. Paid incredibly well."
"Is that how you took out Milah?"
He sneers. "Ah, yes. I suppose your boyfriend told you that, didn't he? Always popular with women who can't listen to a single order."
Gold's words lilt in the air.
Emma rolls her eyes. "So what, you killed her because you're a pathetic misogynist?"
"No," he replies. "I killed her because she left me. It all comes down to power, you see. I'm not happy when I lose it."
"I fail to see how that's any different," she rebuffs, crossing her arms.
That seems to piss him off even more, though he's trying to hide it. Calm, cool, and collected is essential to his persona, after all.
"We've talked for long enough," he says through a clenched jaw, "Let's get to the real action."
He opens one of the wide, obnoxious windows in his office and gestures to it like it's the door to a five star hotel suite.
"You're going to walk out of this window."
"And fall twenty stories until I splat on the pavement." she finishes, disbelieving.
"Like a small bug." he nods, with an expression she guesses is meant to convey happiness, "If you want your son and your boyfriend to live...along with your brother, the sheriff, and the deputy. Yes, I know they're here. I believe you summarized it quite well when you said that one of our greatest fears is losing the people you love. And you will lose every last one because of what you tried to take from me if you don't do what I want."
She narrows his eyes. "Because I trust you so much with their lives after I'm dead."
"I suppose you'll just have to take my word for it."
Emma takes a deep breath and peers out of the window.
It's a long fall. The cars in the parking lot nearby look they're the size of her thumb, from up here. And there's nothing to break the landing except for cement.
Gold just stands there, waiting patiently.
Emma closes her eyes, inhaling the air for a moment as if it's going to give her the courage to do what needs to be done next.
And in one swift movement, she lunges for him.
"What the he-"
He's so weak it's almost funny.
"Look at the cameras," she mutters, grabbing his cheeks with one hand and forcing him to look in their direction. "What looks real to you?"
The room that holds Killian and Henry's unconscious bodies, a blink later, holds neither of them. A few moments later, the room that holds Mulan, David, and Lancelot follows suit.
She has to give Victor credit for being able to do this all so quickly, to be honest. He was a little bit of a pain in the ass and made a few smarmy comments about her voicemails, but Merlin is evidently a better persuader than she is. Bonus points go to the rest of Storybrooke's police force and called in reinforcements to deal with Gold's security.
Gold looks horrified by the sight.
"Your security is still shit," Emma remarks, passively, letting go of him so he can fall to the floor. "I'll give you that those holograms look realistic enough, though. You created them, after all, and you were still fooled."
"How is this possible-"
At that, Gwen and Lancelot come through the door and proceed to read him his rights and arrest him. They offered to let her be the one to do the honors, but somehow it's even more satisfying from this standpoint.
"Simulation over, asshole," she tells him with a broad smile. "I'll be sure to tell your lawyer that you installed these fucking cameras yourself. Sounds like a two-party consent recording to me."
He only glares as the cops lead him out the door, apparently taking his fifth amendment rights very seriously. Gold will need to, with nothing else providing any sort of defense for him. Regina will have a hell of a time fabricating a cover story to keep him out of jail this time.
Emma eyes the cameras contemplatively when they leave, especially the one showing Gold's office and where she's currently standing. She presses down the button calling down the front desk.
"You get all that, Merlin?"
"All of it," he replies smoothly. "Everyone is safe. Robin and Marian just drove Killian and Henry to the hospital and Mulan and David are waiting down here wi-"
"Emma," David's voice comes over the line and she can hear Merlin sigh in the background in something like exasperation. "Emma, are you okay?"
"I'm better than Gold is right now," she shrugs, eyeing where he was just carried out.
David laughs, the sound over the speaker filling up the room.
-/-
Emma is nothing but vigilant over their bedsides over the next few hours, alternating her time between Killian and Henry. Apparently they'd only been knocked out with a strong sedative, but seeing them both unconscious and vulnerable in hospital beds doesn't exactly make her feel fantastic about the situation.
He's fine. He and Killian both are, the doctors assure her after she nearly goes ballistic - high strung off of taking in Gold and sheer worry for the two of them. Admitting them is just a precautionary measure to keep them overnight for observation.
When Henry stirs as she starts to fall asleep in the chair by his bed, though, the relief she feels is almost overbearing. Emma shoots up to greet him, wiping the sleep from her eyes before resting her hand on top of his.
"You got the bad guy?" is the first thing Henry asks when he wakes up in the hospital bed.
It's so in character for him that Emma wants to cry.
"Yeah, Henry," she answers, already a little teary. "We did. We got him. And he's going to stay in jail for a really long time."
"So we can stay?" he continues, eyes wide. "With Uncle David and Aunt Mary Margaret and Killian and Elsa and Lancelot and-"
"Yes," Emma grins, a few tears escaping. So sue her, it's been an emotional few days (few months, few years). "We can stay."
He visibly perks up at the news, beaming in response.
Henry is starting to deal with trauma so well she's a little afraid because of it.
Hopefully, this will be the last time he ever has to.
"I love you, kid," she murmurs, snaking her arms tightly around him. He's safe. He's not hurt. No one is going to take him from her. She repeats the words in her head like a mantra, nearly rocking him as she burrows her nose in his hair.
"I love you too, mom," he says into her shoulder, humming lightly.
And it's moments like these that make all of this shit worth it, to her.
-/-
Emma has another person in the hospital to visit, in the room right next to Henry's.
Killian seems much more peaceful when he's asleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. He looks younger, too. It's not a bad look for him. She's slept with him before (in more ways than one), sure, but she's never actually sat to watch him sleep.
He was usually the first to wake up.
A smile almost comes across her face at the memory. As much as their try for friendship since he came back from London meant they were probably closer and more comfortable with each other emotionally than they ever have been before, she misses before. Emma misses his arm having a comfortable weight around her waist, the crook in his neck she'd always burrow into when they slept, the way he'd do that stupid thing where he'd boop her nose with his finger, and the slow and soft smile he'd always offer her when she gradually and begrudgingly woke up to him pressing kisses to the side of her face.
Emma was a lot less skittish in the friendship phase of things, maybe, when it comes to her own sense of self-security and everything else that comes with it. But she misses the before phase, too, and she can't help but wonder if he does, too. Now that Gold is finally locked up and Regina's hands tied - as Lancelot reassured her earlier - maybe now they'll finally get the chance to talk. They need to have The Talk, the one she's dreaded so resolutely from the beginning of their almost-relationship.
"Wake up, sleeping beauty," Emma murmurs once she can tell Killian's eyes are starting to flicker open.
"Swan," Killian rasps. "What's going o-"
Killian stills mid-sentence, seeming to remember some of the day's earlier events.
He looks around the room, anxiously, nearly moving to leave the room and presumably search for her son himself. "Where's Henry? Is the lad alright? I opened the door when someone knocked because I thought it was you and-"
"Relax," she reassures him, hands on his arms in an attempt to keep him on the bed. "He's fine. Out like a light next door, but he doesn't have so much as a scratch on him. I just talked to him a few hours ago."
"Thank God," he exhales, still sitting up as his hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose. She drops her grip. "What the bloody hell happened?"
His hand falls to the bed and she waits a minute before grasping it. He twines his fingers in hers, as if the movement comes entirely naturally to him. They were always the hand holding type, even if they - she - spent most of their time together denying the feelings associated with such a gesture. His thumb traces the back of her hand and she stares at it, for a moment, exhaling before looking up to meet his eyes.
He softens in turn, repeating his question. "What happened, love?"
Emma smiles at him, an unsure gesture. "A lot. A lot happened."
She goes on to explain the events of the day - from deciding to leave town to arresting Gold. It's cathartic, for her to say and for him to hear.
He grins when she's done describing the look on Gold's face when he realizes this is a situation he can't worm his way out of, dimples flashing in a way that has become so familiar to her. "You did it, Swan. Saved the day."
Emma rolls her eyes and nudges him playfully. "You're so full of shit, you're lucky I l-"
She stops abruptly.
What do you even call it when you miss someone when they're gone and melt when they interact with your kid and - fuck - want to wake up next to them every day so you never have to miss them again?
Killian's hand squeezes hers a little tighter. "You what, Emma?"
She shuts her eyes, shaking her head back and forth. "We should talk. Actually talk, about everything."
He nods in understanding. "About us, I'm presuming."
"Yeah," she replies earnestly. "I think so."
He hums, a low sound in the back of his throat as her stares at her for a moment, eyes scanning over her face. Killian grasps her hand a little firmer in his, pulling their locked hands up so he can kiss the back of hers. "About how we feel for each other."
Emma can feel his breath on her hand and tugs her chair a little closer to his bedside. "I think we're a little overdue."
"I'll start, then," he says, lips twitching. His hand leaves hers to rest reverently on the side of her face, leaving her no other option than watching him say the words. "Emma Swan, you are one of the most strong-minded, beautiful, compassionate, and brave people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. You're strong, you're smart, and you're kinder than you'd give yourself credit for."
"Most people wouldn't exactly call me nice," she laughs, a little, doing her best to deflect.
He eyes her warmly, thumb running over the top of her cheek. "There it is again. You're kind, Swan. I knew that the minute you showed up on my doorstep. And I knew I cared for you before you fell asleep that night. I knew the next night that all I could ever want was for you to be happy."
"Trust me, I was plenty happy that night," she says with a tender grin, hand coming up to rest on his.
"As I recall," he agrees a smile lighting his features. "As was I, that night. But I even mean beyond that, love. I wanted you to be happy. You deserved that."
And just like that, the moment breaks and her smile fades.
"Wanted," she summarizes abruptly, eyes turning down and hand falling. "I see."
"Want," Killian corrects hotly, eyes boring into hers. He forces her to face him again, gently leading her chin up with his fingers. "I want you, Emma. All that you're willing to give. i want to make you happy and cared for and loved. I want to make the lad comfortable, too. I want all of you, Emma. The parts you're proud of and the parts you're not, because you've inspired me to be so much more than I was. To move past what happened, what was taken from me in ways that I never thought I'd be able to until I met you."
All she can do is gape at him for a minute, at loss for words.
"I realized most of that before I left for London, but the last thing I wanted to do was make you uncomfortable," he reveals roughly, averting his eyes and retracting his hand from her face. "I apologize if I've done so."
"No," Emma protests, a little too vehemently. "No, Killian. I'd never be able to do this without you, you know. Move on with what happened with Graham and Ingrid and everything else. Go after Gold. Be able to think of myself as someone who could do some good, after what happened. It's a two way street."
Killian's eyes meet hers again and she knows she has to say it, now, or she won't have the courage to do it later.
"I love you," she says softly, bumping her forehead with his and almost catching herself by surprise by saying the words. "I'm sorry it took me this long to realize it."
He grins, then, the sight almost blinding. His response is as natural as they come. "And I love you, Swan."
She leans down to kiss him as passionately as his heart rate monitors will allow.
"Does this mean I'm your boyfriend, no-"
"Shut up."
(It does.)
-/-
Gold always said he'd win the battle with the public. And maybe he's right. There's also a possibility that he could be wrong, though, and the police department has to do a fucking press conference regardless.
Here's hoping people start to believe proof when it's before their eyes.
(These hopes are likely too high.)
"We will now be taking questions," David announces, a little uncomfortably, sharing a look with Emma that says something like 'God, please save me from this hell'.
If they're in hell, they're in hell together.
"This is Sidney Glass from the Daily Mirror - may I ask what charges Robert Gold is being held on this time?"
Emma scowls. "This time? Sir, may I remind you that-"
David groans into his microphone. "The murder of Milah Gold and seven counts of attempted murder, Mr. Glass."
"Seven?" Glass raises his eyebrows, "May I ask what those seven entail of?"
"Myself, Sheriff Swan, Deputy Dulac, Deputy Fa, Henry Mills, Killian Jones," David lists them out on his fingers, looking confused for a moment at the six he's holding up. "Oh! And Sheriff Swan, the first time."
"The first time is referring to the previous charges that the department attempted to file against Robert Gold, correct?" another reporter calls.
"Yes," David and Emma answer simultaneously.
"What evidence led the department to this conclusion?" Glass asks, again, much to the annoyance of his fellow reporters.
"Oh, he explained it to me pretty candidly when he tried to convince me to waltz out his window and commit suicide," Emma explains bluntly. "How he tried and failed to kill me the first time, how he was going to kill everyone I loved unless I killed myself right then. Don't worry, it's all on the video we're going to send to you all."
Sidney sits down at that, but she can't resist rubbing it in just a little bit more.
"Wow, you know...Robert Gold, huh? Really the guy that the Mirror called Storybrooke's Hero a few weeks ago on their front page, right Mr. Glass? I don't know how truthful the description of me as some conspiracy plotting succubus was, but maybe the video will help you decide on accuracy of that."
The crowd of media in front of them begin to look a little more anxious.
Good. Let them be.
David clears his throat. "Next question?"
"Ariel Finn from the Misthaven Journal, what's going to become of Gold Incorporated now that its CEO and founder is in custody?"
Emma answers this question, easily. "It will be shut down until further notice."
David goes on to explain in more detail. "We'll be partnering with our friends at Storybrooke General to deliver mental health care to its customers and the federal government will be sending a team from Health and Human Services to take a long, hard look at the facility and the potential risks and benefits its technology could pose. It will get the thorough investigation that Gold managed to evade when it opened."
"We realize this can't be easy to people who have become so used to seeing their loved ones' faces, but we hope that our mental health services can expand beyond a temporary fix for grief and onto a more lasting and healthy acceptance." Emma finishes.
"So, will we be seeing a continuation of the use of holograms of the deceased in Storybrooke?" Ariel presses further.
David and Emma share identical, unsure looks.
"Honestly, we don't know," David admits candidly.
Emma nods, "But if we do, it's not going to be another situation where one guy is sitting there adjusting the prices for it. If it's something Storybrooke decides to pursue, it should be pursued very carefully."
-/-
A familiar face stops her, once she starts to leave the press conference.
"Emma," Ashley Boyd greets, "it's good to see you again."
"Oh," Emma replies, a little startled, "good to see you too."
The next thing she knows, Ashley is hugging her. Emma almost jumps, but she settles for putting her hands on her back.
"You kept your promise," is all she says.
Emma melts, a little. "I tried to."
Another woman, this time one she doesn't recognize, is the next to address Emma.
"My brother...after my father passed, Gold took so much advantage of him. Thank you so much."
"I'm so sorry that this happened to your family," Emma says. "and we'll do everything we can to make sure it doesn't happen again."
A handful of people pass her, after that. Some glare, but some stop to thank her just as Ashley did.
It gives Emma a little bit of hope, a rare commodity after all the shit that's happened.
David steps in next to her, after a few minutes. "Seems like someone has made a difference for the better and the community is grateful to her. Imagine that."
Emma rolls her eyes. "Honestly I'm waiting for them to star-"
"YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS, BITCH," A random voice in the crowd calls.
Damn it. She jinxed it that quickly.
Emma sighs. "Well, you can't win over everyone."
David cranes his neck to take a look at the perpetrator. "Marian has already got him."
"And that's all I need," Emma replies with a grin, "A good team at my back."
He grins. "I've always got your back, Emma."
"And I've got yours." she replies easily, threading her arm through his.
-/-
Mary Margaret and David insist on celebrating at their place, because of course they do. This is the couple that covered their house with so many streamers on New Years one year that Emma started finding pieces of them in her hair the next day.
They invite the whole gang - from Lancelot, Gwen, Marian, and Robin to Killian, Elsa, Anna, Kristoff, and Ingrid.
This time, Emma isn't as bothered by the invitation extended to Ingrid.
"Congratulations," Ingrid tells Emma as soon as she sees her, "It's not every day you take down the most powerful psychopath in town."
The corner of Emma's lips twitch upwards. "I had more than a little help."
"This is the part where you say that you still haven't taken me down, yet," Ingrid offers. The words are said more lightly than angrily, a current of understanding underneath them.
Emma just shakes her head with a laugh. "You're not the most powerful psychopath in town. I think that title goes to Regina. You're just holding a firm second."
It's more of a joke, this time. Judging by the expression on Ingrid's face, she seems to get that.
"I'm proud of you, you know that?" Ingrid tells her, putting her hand on Emma's shoulder. "I know I haven't been the best mother this past year, I know I've done things that were inexcusable, I know…"
"Mom," Emma replies, calling her a name she hasn't sincerely used in what feels like a lifetime. "I know. I think we're going to be okay."
Ingrid gives her a watery smile before leaning down to give her a fierce hug.
Emma squeezes her back, just as tightly.
Their relationship isn't perfect, she's not sure it will ever be. It's getting better, though, which is what counts.
-/-
She manages to extricate herself from an explanation of the town's happenings to an incredibly confused Kristoff and a concerned Anna. Elsa takes over the story, thankfully, somewhere around the part where she arrests Gold the first time while Henry excitedly fills in details.
As much as she loves the Blanchard-Nolan-Swan-Arendelles, Emma has to make an escape. It has nothing to do with the people in the loft and everything to do with her needing to breathe after all the shit that's happened over the past year.
Fresh air is perfect for that.
Emma is a little surprised, though, when she finds someone else already on the front steps of the apartment building.
"If it isn't the woman of the hour," Killian greets with a grin.
Emma shakes her head, sitting down beside him. "Please. You know this was about way more than just me. All of you-"
Killian gives her an overdramatic sigh, hooking his arm around her neck. "Just accept the bloody compliment."
She rolls her eyes. "I'll stop saying it when it stops being true."
"You're a bloody hero, Swan." Killian tells her, twining his fingers with hers over her shoulder. "It's as I've always thought."
"Yeah, well," she murmurs, meeting his eyes. "So are you."
He grins, at that, leaning in to kiss her. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Swan."
Emma smiles against his lips before reciprocating fully, twining her arms around his neck and sighing happily. This type of interaction she can deal with, right now. Soft, understanding, and comfortable company. It's as easy as breathing.
"We have a lot of work ahead of us," Emma groans when they break apart. "Between dealing with the fallout of Gold, trying Gold, trying Tolemac, dealing with the addicts that are probably tempted to tear our heads off about now, deciding what the hell to do with all of these simulations…"
"I reckon I'm supposed to chide you for focusing on all of these negatives, but I'm a bit preoccupied by your use of words like 'we' and 'our'." Killian replies with a grin. "My, my Swan. You really have changed."
Emma face falls. "What? Did I -"
"I'm glad for it," he adds quickly. "I'm unbelievably glad for it. And I want you to know that along every step of the way, there will be a 'we' and an 'our'. Not just between us, but with your entire family and friends behind you."
Her eyes water a little bit, at that.
"It's a little easier than being alone, I'll admit." Emma murmurs, her head falling to rest on Killian's shoulder.
"And you'll never have to do it alone again," Killian declares into her hair, his hand interlocking with hers. "I'll make sure of that."
Her mouth twitches. "And neither will you."
They sit in silence, for a moment, contemplating everything that's happened. The sunset makes a hell of a view, she has to admit. There's something cyclic about it. This chapter is over and another one begins.
(Hopefully, the next one is a little less depressing.)
"How do you think the town is going to deal with all this, once the dust has settled?" Killian asks, contemplatively. He seems to having the same thought process she is.
Emma exhales sharply. "I think people have spent so long living in the past, it's hard to adjust."
"Where do we go from here, then?"
"I think," Emma stills for a moment, deep in thought. "I think we start living in the present, wherever the hell that takes us."
Killian looks contemplative, nuzzling his face further into Emma's hair "The present, eh? Seems like a good place to be about now."
"Yeah," Emma murmurs, eyes fixed on the horizon. "It really does."