Here at last is the epilogue – the final chapter of this little "Once" adventure. I hope you have enjoyed reading, and I would love to hear what you think of the final installment. I still don't own them.

Enjoy!

Villain's Happy Ending

Epilogue

One month later…

He had never imagined that life could be so good.

Killian Jones came back from the dead to find that he at last had the chance to be happy. Nothing in his long years of living had prepared him for the simple joy and fulfillment that being part of a family – a son-in-law, surrogate father, partner and mate – brought. He had loved Milah all those ages ago; he would never pretend that their relationship had not happened, for it had shaped who he was and was part of him still. However, until Emma called him back and saved his life with True Love's Kiss, he had not understood how it felt to find the right person, the one he was meant to find, and have her love him in return. The strength and blissful glow of their love enveloped him, making him feel stronger and worthier than he had experienced in all his centuries of life.

That did not mean everything was simple. Recovering from the torture the Witch had subjected him to had taken time and patience. Killian needed to heal physically, and mentally he was still repairing the damage. Even though she had helped in defeating their enemy and rescuing him, Killian hadn't wanted Regina using her magic to heal him. Emma would have tried to persuade him otherwise if she was sure of her control over her own abilities, but she couldn't bring herself to risk anything going wrong. Beyond that, she respected his wishes and understood his aversion to having magic used on him – even to ease pain and speed the process. After watching Rumplestiltskin murder Milah, suffering the loss of his hand to the Dark One's magic, and then spending years stuck with Cora and her abuses of power, it made sense for him to be wary.

So, she stayed at his side as much as he would let her while he recuperated. Killian had spent several days in Storybrooke's hospital, grousing about how unnecessary it was, but Emma hadn't been willing to let him chance infection in his many open wounds or have any of his broken bones reset incorrectly. He had grudgingly done as she asked when he saw how troubled for his well-being she truly was; there was literally nothing in all the realms he would willfully deny her.

Beyond grateful to have him restored to her and still frightened by how close he had come to death, Emma would have literally waited on him hand and foot, personally nursing him back to health, if Killian would have let her. The purpling bruises which marred his skin had shot pain to her heart's core those first few days, as he rested a lot more than he would have admitted to needing and they contrasted so sharply with his paler-than-usual skin and the stark, white, hospital sheets. When he had been released from doctor's care, Emma had put her foot down at his returning to his ship alone. He was still hobbling, as well as stiff and sore, and he might need help – might need her – and she wouldn't know. "You're coming to stay with Henry and me," she said, her voice brooking no refusal.

For once in his life, he hadn't challenged or prodded at her, but simply nodded his acquiescence. There was a knowing look in his eyes, and his lips bore the smallest trace of a relieved and satisfied smile, but his only words were a whispered, "As you wish, Emma."

That had been three and a half weeks ago. Since then, slowly but surely, Killian's bruises faded, the healthy coloring came back to his face, and he could grasp things without wincing at the pain in his hand. He still sometimes clutched at his ribs with a sharp intake of breath when he moved too quickly or Henry told a story which made him forget himself and laugh out loud. Emma had laughed more in the last few weeks watching as her son introduced the pirate captain to television, the microwave, and showers and witnessing Killian's impressed looks of bemused surprise and puzzlement at the marvels of modern innovation. More than once, the three of them had spent their Friday evening crammed onto the couch in the living room, covered with blankets and watching a movie. Seeing Henry cuddled into Killian's side with her True Love's arm wrapped over them both near melted Emma's heart completely. He was barely limping anymore as he roamed their house curiously, his cat-like, masculine grace returning with every day that went by. He fit into their lives as if he should always have been with them.

As a new morning dawned clear and bright, Emma knocked briefly on the door of the spare bedroom Killian had been using without really pausing in her forward motion. By now, she had learned he was an earlier riser than she or Henry would ever be and had usually been up for hours before she ever went looking for him. She was halfway into the room before realizing that he hadn't answered and was in fact still in bed. Blushing deeply despite herself, Emma started to back out before she woke him, glad that he was resting so well. Or, she did, until her eyes fell on his relaxed form lying on his stomach, deep in slumber.

Tears pricked her eyes the moment she did. From where she stood in the doorway, Killian's bare back was on full display, not covered by the blankets that pooled at his waist. He had managed to keep anyone from seeing his scars since he had left the hospital, and looking at the marks he still bore tightened her chest with sympathetic pain. Before she thought, almost unaware of what she was doing, Emma had crossed the floor on silent feet and reached out tentatively to touch the skin which had been marred to protect her.

As soon as her hand brushed over his warm skin, Killian's gentle inhale, exhale rhythm stilled, and she felt the lean muscles under her fingers tense with awareness. One of his hands reached awkwardly to pull the blanket up over his back, and he turned to eye her, confusion and even a bit of fearful embarrassment in the striking blue still clouded with sleep. Emma was having none of it though, and halted his arm's movement, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, near his hip.

"What are you doing, Darling?" he questioned, his voice falsely lazy, trying to appear unconcerned and still gravelly, attractively warm.

She bit her lip, not wanting emotion to get the best of her, nor to embarrass him, but she needed Killian to understand. There was no part of him she did not love, nothing he had to hide any longer, no scar she would not find beautiful. Her voice rasped brokenly, but she pressed on, cupping his cheek in her hand and bending to give him a light kiss of greeting. "I was coming to see if you wanted breakfast," she managed, "but I – I didn't mean to wake you – I just…"

"Don't trouble yourself, Love," he murmured, smiling at her easily with adoration in his eyes that stunned her as he pulled her back to him to return her kiss with a more thorough one of his own. "It's time I was up. Give me a moment. I'll dress and be out to join you." He moved to sit, but she stopped him again, small hands resting on his toned shoulders and pushing him back gently.

"Wait, Killian," she whispered, urging him with her touch to lie back down and relax, hoping he would let her finish. "I think this is more important."

He swallowed hard and then looked away. His not wanting to meet her eyes tightened the knot in her throat further, but she persisted, his discomfort only adding to her resolve.

"Have you been hiding these from me?" she asked sadly, ghosting a gentle hand over his shoulder blade and down his side, tracing the pink, healing strips that were still clearly visible. His body jerked tensely, and Emma could see him struggling to hold still and not flinch away from her. "Why, Killian? You have to know…there is nothing you can't share with me, nothing we can't face together."

"Emma Lass, there's no need…You don't have to…" but she cut him off as he floundered to find words that freed her from what he saw as obligation. Before he could finish his thought, she leaned over him and followed the path of another scar with her lips, placing light, lingering kisses along his spine where another lash mark remained. Caressing his scarred back with hands and lips, she tried to convey how much she loved and treasured even what he felt was ruined and ugly, relying on action where words had failed her.

A shiver ran through him; Killian's frame quivered under her lips with his reaction. Finally, she rose up just enough to meet his eyes again, running her hands through his hair and then reclining to curl up beside him. "Do you know that I love you, Killian?" she asked plaintively, so softly that he nearly missed the words she breathed against his skin while she burrowed her face into his chest. "Truly. It is not going away – no matter what happens."

"Aye, Dear, though no more than I love you." He wrapped his arms around her, tracing a reverent hand over her beloved features while they lay face to face. "I only hoped to spare you the sight. I know those marks are far from appealing."

"You don't see what I see," she responded. She held his gaze, not letting him glance away or deflect her praise. "I see what you paid to keep me safe. I'm reminded that you were willing to give your life for good, regardless of the anguish it caused you. If I could take the pain of them away, I would, but I will never look at a single mark on your skin with anything but gratitude. Those scars mark your strength and what our love overcame."

A crooked smile quirked Killian's mouth then, a misty sheen before his eyes, but heat warmed his gaze too, the smolder flickering from him to her, and Emma was suddenly sure that she wouldn't do anything but stay in his arms for the rest of the day, until she was sure that he believed everything she had said.

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Killian Jones simply could not believe his good fortune, but he could see Emma was sincere in every word she had said, and he pulled her even closer, kissing her forehead before tucking her to his side and letting his chin come to rest atop her silky, blonde hair. He was made to be with her, here in this moment, through everything else he had faced along the way. Now, with his saving grace in his arms, he could even be grateful for the long, painful journey. The Savior, his Swan – a bloody princess – was more than he deserved, however much she would deny that fact. He kept waiting for the force that would steal his happy ending from him. He was nothing but a pirate, after all. Yet, somehow, in her eyes, he could see that he was more: a hero, her prince, and the True Love she had waited for. They were in the midst of their own kind of fairy tale. In this one, maybe the villain could redeem himself and keep his reward.

"I see, Lass," he murmured, as he pecked a quick kiss to the tip of her nose and then lowered his mouth to skate over her jawline and traverse down her neck. "I've finally won you over, haven't I?" His smirked up at her mischievously, his eyes sparkling with overwhelming emotion. "My treasure," he whispered, pulling her firmly into his arms. He vowed to himself that she would never be lonely, forgotten, or betrayed again. She could not shake him, and nothing would take her away from him. Before claiming her lips in another fervent kiss, he swore against her skin, "I'll never let you go."