Disclaimer: If this show was mine, Neal would be the main character that dies.. ._. #SorryNotSorry

Early A/N: the end of this chapter isn't like the movie, just because it seemed to fit that way. Once again... #SorryNotSorry.

If I seem dangerous,

Would you be scared?

~Imagine Dragons:Monster

It's entirely possible that Emma is acting like a three year old.

Not saying it's fact,

but it's possible.

When she finally recovers enough to stop laughing on the floor and get up, she heads towards the kitchen.

Locked.

Crap. Now she'll have to eat with the Voice.

She sighs and saunters off down the hall. Every once in a while, she'll peek into rooms, amazed at the dust and loneliness that occupies them. Was that really what the Voice had fallen to?

Shaking her head, she wanders, continues to wander

wanders some more...

more...

and perhaps just a little more...

until she's completely lost.

Glancing around the corridor she has found herself in, she finds what she's looking for: a window. Quickly running over to it, she discovers it's nailed down.

This guy has some issues.

Using all of her strength, she yanks at the curtain, pulling until her fingers are raw, and just as she admits defeat, it gives way and she stumbles back.

No light outside.

Crap.

She's been out longer than she had anticipated.

Frantically looking about the room, she realizes she has no idea where she is.

Crap. Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap.

"ARRRRGGGHHH," Emma yells out in frustration, kicking the nearest door open.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! My foot, ow!"

Scowling and trying to massage her foot, she glances at the door she's just broken. A sign, in messy handwriting, reads, "DO NOT ENTER".

Emma smirks.

And enters.

Then gasps.

The room is dark, ripped to shreds, broken and terrible, like someone took all the darkness they harbored and splattered it all across the room. Walking deeper into the room, she puts her hand out to brush items that catch her eye. She comes up to a shredded portrait, lying on a table next to...is that a floating flower? No. Flowers don't float. Then why the crap is it floating?! Rubbing her eyes, she brings a gentle finger to pet the rose. It shudders, coughs, and returns to it's floating state. She almost pulls it to her, but stops last second, not really knowing why. Instead she turns to the portrait.

Reaching for the torn shreds, she puts them in place and studies the picture.

It's a man.

A very attractive man.

His face wears a smile, looks like it never comes off. His hair is thick and rich, a luxurious black, or perhaps dark, dark brown. He's dressed well ("A royal," she scoffs). He wears a lot of rings, not really Emma's style, but he made it work, and omigosh. Is that...guyliner?

Who knew men could apply makeup better than Emma, a woman.

He sports thick, majestic brows, one of them quirked just a little above the other, as if constantly amused.

His body- a gift to women everywhere, bless him- was lean and fit, and insanely, insanely sexy.

For a brief moment, Emma wonders if it's natural to fall in love with an image.

Finally drawing her eyes up to his,er, the painting's, she feels her breath catch. Her heart stop. Her mind slow. Her eyes widen. Her mouth drop. She feels all of it, all those symptoms pointing to either shock, or explosive diarrhea.

It's shock.

The eyes are blue, a blue she's seen on no one but the Voice, except they're full of joy. But...

They're blue.

Like his.

Only his.

What the...

"Well," a voice, the Voice growls. "It would appear as though our Swan-lass can't read." He holds up the "DO NOT ENTER" sign in trembling hands.

Emma gulps. "I-"

"No."

"I'm sorry what?"

"No!" he roars. "Do NOT try to get out of this! I let you into my home, I have been nothing but charitable towards you, despite what you think of me. I gave you a library, but apparently, you can't. READ!" He throws the paper to the ground near her feet and walks up to her, dangerously close to her face.

"Leave," he growls. "Now."

Emma trembles, terrified to be there, but even more terrified to back down. "You- you- you-"

"I-I-I what, love?" he sneers, sending unpleasant chills down her spine.

She grabs the portrait and flings it front of her, holding it in shaking hands. His face contorts with too many emotions, washes of emotion all together, and remains still.

"Who is this?" she whispers.

"Someone I used to know," he says dryly.

"What happened to him?"

"He died. He was destroyed. He lost everything, including himself. He's gone."

Emma choked on her throat.

"Do you know why?" he asks, painfully calm.

Emma shakes her head, but she does. She does know why.

"Because I killed him," he snarls. "And if you don't get out of here, I'll do the same to you."

Emma nods, clutching the portrait to her chest, and walks to the door, feeling the Voice's eyes on her the entire way. At the last moment, she turns around.

"I have one last question for you, Voice."

She takes his silence as cue to move on.

"When I first...arirved here, I thought you were a monster, in the form of a man. Then I thought you were a man in the form of a monster. But I've learned that you may only be one or the other. So my question for you is...are you monster?"She draws a shaky breath. "Or man?"

With that question hanging between them like a corpse, she spins on her heel, walking away.

Monster or man, he was dangerous.

And she was scared.

...

Back in the study, Killian lets out a breath he was holding against his conscious.

Staring at the spot she had stood minutes, maybe hours before, he whispers, "I don't know. I just don't know anymore."

A/N:

Wow guys! Thanks for the positive support! Ya'all are the best!

Liv and Pixie and Schnitzel?...Stay perfect. Your reviews make my day. (Also, thanks Schnitzel, you get better too!) :)

Anyway, what's the thoughts on A&E revealing a death of a main character. Please hide my baby. I've heard some really good theories, and would love to hear yours!

So

Hugs and Kisses and Monsters and Men ;)

~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood