A/N: This chapter comes with a hefty warning. I've been dreading the second half of this chapter since I started this fic. It's The Tower. Sometimes called The Lightning-Struck Tower, it is considered by pretty much everyone to be the WORST card in the Major Arcana. It symbolizes the destruction of everything. This chapter fucking hurts. I bawled writing this. It starts out wayyyyyy up high … but by the end of it …

That being said. We still have five chapters to go, so by no means should you consider this THE END or think that I'm planning to be evil. I'm really really not. But we HAVE to get through this part. Just, you know, have a large stack of tissues handy.

Also, as of this chapter, I've officially jumped the rating up to M. So you know. If you shouldn't be reading M-rated stuff ... don't.

Chapter Sixteen
The Tower
"And time goes quicker between the two of us. Oh my love, don't forsake me. Take what the water gave me … "

"Aren't we … " Emma gasped, "supposed to be catching a boat or something?" Her back was against the door now, her hands pinned above her head by one of Killian's forearms as he pressed against her.

"Sod the ship," Killian panted, his teeth nipping at the pulse in her throat, making her moan a little. "They can wait. You, however, cannot."

He dropped to his knees in front of her, using his teeth and his hand to undo the button on her jeans. She sucked in a breath sharply, anticipation flooding her senses now.

They'd come to the small, seaside village to rest and try and procure some sort of ship to take them the rest of the way to the Hollow.

However, when they'd gotten settled at the inn …

They were supposed to rest. But instead …

"I will have you," he'd breathed, pulling her into his arms and kissing her as though he meant to devour her. "On every surface in this room."

Emma had to say this for him … he made good on his word.

Several times.

The headboard was definitely cracked, and there were shards of glass from the vase they had knocked over littering the carpet of the small room. A few of the shards were in her hair, she was pretty sure. The bedsheets were strewn from one end of the room to the other.

It looked like a fucking hurricane had gone through here.

And she was learning things about him, things that you only learned about a person when you were with them. He was impatient, greedy, and insatiable … but also tender, thorough, and gentle. He liked to hold her close and bury his face in the crook of her neck in the afterglow, and he'd whisper things like "you're a bloody marvel" when he thought she was dozing off.

In all honesty, it was he who was the marvel, and Emma so wanted to tell him, tell him everything, that she loved him, adored him, and couldn't imagine getting by without him now that she had him in her life. But the words would get stuck, so she'd just kiss him instead, kiss him as though he were oxygen and she needed him to breathe, hoping against hope that maybe he would feel what it was that she couldn't say.

He loved her. He had told her he loved her. Just the once, when they'd been outside, but it had been enough … it was burned into her mind, forever now. He loved her. How could she ever go back from that?

But there was still the matter of what he wasn't saying … whatever it was he'd done, whatever choice he'd made. She was terrified of what it all might mean for the future, but every time she brought it up, he'd just kiss her senseless again.

"Let's not talk about anything right now, Emma," he'd whispered, his lips insistent against hers. "Let's just be happy."

Much to her surprise, she was okay with that for now.

For now. Eventually she'd figure out what he was hiding. Whether she wanted to or not.

She had several small scratches on her sides, her back, from where Killian had caught her with his hook accidentally, but she found she didn't mind. He had apologized profusely, then proceeded to kiss every single scrape … which lead them to their current situation.

Emma's hands were in his hair now, her eyes squeezed shut as he slid her jeans down her legs, his breath tickling her thighs. She wasn't sure how much longer "upright" was going to be a position she could stay in.

She gasped sharply when she felt his tongue moving over her most sensitive spot, through the fabric of her underwear, her fingers tightening in his hair. He growled, the sound sending shockwaves through her, and she cried out.

There was no way the other people in this inn weren't hearing them.

And yet Emma didn't care.

Never ever had she been so consumed by someone. Never ever would she be this consumed again. He was fire inside her, he was everything she'd ever been afraid to hope for. She had no idea what awaited them next, but as of right now, she didn't care. All she wanted was this.

"Killian," she gasped, arching against his mouth. She felt rather than heard him chuckle against her, and her body shuddered pleasurably. "Oh, God."

He tore her panties away from her then and Emma didn't even bother to protest the ruined fabric because his lips were wrapped around her most sensitive spot and God, his mouth was doing things to her that she'd thought were only myths. She could feel her knees starting to shake as he explored her with his lips, his tongue, his teeth.

His hook scraped down her leg lightly and she shivered, realizing then that the whimpering sound she was hearing was her own voice.

Her sounds only seemed to encourage him, and when she opened her eyes and looked down, she saw him looking up at her, so much heat and intensity in his gaze that it was almost enough to undo her then and there.

And there it was. One last flick of his tongue, and a devilish smirk from him, and she was tumbling over the edge of oblivion. And he was there to catch her as her knees finally gave out, pulling her down to the ground, covering her body with his own, his lips trailing back up to her neck. She cried out again, her body still yearning for his. "Please," she breathed.

He raised his head, his eyes locking with hers. "Please what?" he murmured, a hint of challenge in his voice.

She arched against him, her hand sliding down his abdomen to grasp him. "I … need … you. Please, Killian, please, please, please … " She stroked him gently, guiding him to her now.

He gave a gasp of his own, but maintained that damned smirk of his. "There's a good girl," he replied, nipping at her lower lip.

And then he was there and a sound between a moan and a scream escaped her throat. It was perfect, he was perfect, nothing would ever feel like this, not ever again. Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper, wanting him as close to her as it was possible to be.

"Emma," he groaned, his forehead pressed against hers. His eyes fell closed then, and this was the moment Emma liked best. When he was so overcome that he just had to close his eyes, let it wash over him. She could stare at him forever like this, his expression one of pure bliss, and it was because of her, for her.

She leaned in, pressing her lips just barely against his, the merest touch, but she felt him start to tremble. Her arms went around him, her hands roaming over his back, down his spine. She sighed against his lips, a small smile on her lips. "Now," she breathed. "Now, Killian, come with me, now."

He let out a soft cry of his own, slanting his mouth over hers insistently, clinging to her like a lifeline. She felt her own release hit her, just as his hand tightened in her hair and he moaned against her lips.

She let her fingers thread through the hair at the nape of his neck, her body shaking. She felt boneless, weightless, completely and perfectly content for this one moment. Her eyes found his again, and she smiled softly.

"Emma," he said softly, and there was that sort of nervous expression he sometimes wore around her, the one that confused her, because what did he have to be nervous about?

"Shh," she said, shaking her head and pressing her lips to his. "Whatever it is, it'll keep."

He shook his head. "It won't," he said, his brow furrowed. She ran her fingers lightly over the creases on his forehead, frowning at his serious expression. "There's a ship waiting to take us north, and once we're on it, it'll be a day, maybe two, until we reach the Hollow."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" she asked. "One step closer to Storybrooke, if what you said about the fairies was true."

"Aye, lass, it's true," he said, but his eyes were sad.

"Are you ever going to tell me what's going on?" Emma asked him. "Maybe if you told me, I could help you."

He shook his head. "There's nothing you could do, love," he said.

She moved to sit up then, scooting herself away from him, pressing herself back against the wall. "What are you saying?" she asked. "Killian, what's going to happen when we get to the Hollow?"

"They're going to send you home," he said, "like I've said before."

She frowned. "Just … me." Her eyes met his and she could see the answer there. "Tell me."

Killian blew out a heavy breath. "Gold opened this portal as a trap … not for me, for you," he said.

"Why?" Emma asked, confused. "Why would he … ?"

"To force me to choose."

I chose you.

The words came rushing back to her then, and suddenly they made sense.

"No … Killian … " She shook her head. "You should have stayed."

"And left you stuck here forever?" he asked, giving her a droll look. "Not bleeding likely."

"I would've been all right … " she said slowly.

"Emma, you have a son. A family. People who love you. People who need you. I've got nothing. And Neverland is my home."

"Why is it you can't come with me?" she asked. "Was it some deal you made with Gold? Because we can deal with him … we can … "

Killian was kissing her again, and she succumbed to it, though she really wanted to scream.

"The fairies only have enough dust to send one person back. It's not a portal they open, it's a spell. And it requires … well, all of the pixie dust in the Hollow." He sighed heavily. "It's a huge favor to ask. And they don't take kindly to outsiders. You never would have gotten close."

"But you can?"

"Aye," he said, and he smiled a little wryly. "I … know someone. She'll help us get an audience with Titania, their queen."

"Seriously? You're friends with a pixie?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow. He gave her a pointed look, and her mouth dropped open. "You … you mean … Oh. She's real, too."

"Very much so," Killian said with a chuckle. "And she won't let you forget it, either."

"Wow. I just … wow." Emma shook her head, trying to process all the new information. But she kept coming back to one thing. "Okay, so they have to use all their pixie dust or whatever to send me home … don't they have like an unending supply or something?"

He shook his head, his eyes back to being sad. "That's why it's such a huge favor, love. It'll take every bit of it. And it takes … time to replenish."

Emma felt her heart sinking with every word he said. "How much time?" she asked, terrified of the answer.

"In your world? Somewhere around fifty years."

That did it. Her lower lip started trembling and her eyes filled with tears. She laughed bitterly and the tears spilled down her cheeks. "Are you fucking kidding me? This is some sort of joke, right? Fifty years?" She looked at him, shaking her head. "What am I supposed to do, just … just accept that? Just leave you here?" Her voice grew very small then. "What am I supposed to do without you?"

"You live, Emma. You live, and you raise your son and you move on. You forget about me."

She slapped him.

He didn't even flinch, but for the way his jaw tightened. His eyes never left her face. "I'm sure I deserve worse than that."

"You're damn right you do," Emma spat. "Forget about you? Like it's just so easy." She was crying openly now, she couldn't seem to stop. "How can I just forget about you when I … when I … "

"When you what, Emma?" he asked, his hand wrapping around her wrist then.

"I was ready to give you everything," she said, her voice barely a whisper now.

"Emma … it's not … you will forget about me," he said.

"Shut up!" she said. "I won't."

He closed his eyes, and she heard his breathing hitch. "You will."

"What aren't you telling me?" she demanded then, she could sense that he was holding something back.

"I didn't … I didn't want you to have to ever know … but I can't lie to you, either." He exhaled heavily. "You're a mainlander, Emma, and that means … the pixie dust … it will erase your memories of Neverland and anyone and everyone associated with it."

She froze then, just gaping at him. "You … I … what the fuck." She was on her feet then, her tears turning hot due to her anger.

"It would have been kinder not to tell you," he said, and she could see the conflict in his eyes. "I just don't want to lie to you, not any more, not now, Emma. You deserve to know everything … you won't remember it, but I will."

"So I won't remember any of this? I won't remember you at all? None of it? None of this? How is that okay?"

"It's not," he said, getting to his feet then. "Emma, it's not okay, nothing about this is right, and that bloody bastard knew all of this when he sent you here. Don't you understand? This is my punishment. Because I'll remember everything."

"And I'll remember nothing." She shook her head again. Nothing. None of it. Not him, not Neverland, not anything. "No. No … I don't accept that. This is … it's a nightmare."

"I wish that it was … Emma, it's better this way."

"How? How is this better, Killian?"

"You deserve better. This is the one bloody thing I could do right in my life," he said, running his hand through his hair. "You aren't going to hurt, Emma. You'll be fine. You'll be better than fine."

She was barely registering what he was saying. Every memory she had of him — from the first moment she'd seen him until right now — was racing through her mind. Every memory was precious to her. And they were going to be stolen from her.

"Isn't there any other way?"

"Don't you think I'd do it?" he asked her.

"I don't want to do this," she said, and she was crying again. "I don't want to forget you. I'm … better because of you. Am I just going to go back to the way I was before? I can't … I can't be that person again, I can't, not after this."

He had his hand and his hook on her shoulders now, and he turned her to face him. "But you will. Emma, you're a tough lass. You'll get through this, you won't even remember you had to get through this."

"And that's just supposed to make it okay," she said. She shook her head again, turning away from him. She didn't know what else to say at this point. What did it matter anyway? She wasn't even going to remember being here.

But he would remember. God, how unfair was this?

She closed her eyes, felt his arms go around her. She didn't push him away, she didn't want to push him away, she wanted to keep him with her, always. But she couldn't. Nothing ever worked out the way it was supposed to for her.

She wanted to tell him she loved him, but she just couldn't make the words come. It didn't matter anyway. None of it mattered.

She was so stupid. How could she have thought, for even a second, that he was … that they were … Her life wasn't a fairy tale. And this right here pretty much proved it.

She looked up at his face, and what she saw there broke her heart. She was sure her own expression mirrored it. It was pain.

"Come on, lass," he said, his voice quiet, broken. "We've a boat to catch."