This chapter touches on a couple of subjects that may be a bit…disturbing (or insulting) to some people. Please bear in mind that at this point Emma is both heavily drugged as well as lost in grief and thus not entirely in her right mind.

You've been warned.

Enjoy!

~The Last Ronin~

"We should make it back to the Roger by tomorrow afternoon," Killian informed me as he slid his spyglass closed with the tip of his hook – a greatly practiced motion, I could tell and I found myself wondering how skillfully he might use the appendage for…other things.

"Hear that kiddo?" I asked Henry, "We'll be home soon. What's the first thing you want to do?"

He thought about that for a minute before his face lit up, "Dinner at Grannies with you and Dad and Grandma and Grandpa. Like a family."

I'd stiffened next to him, my eyes quickly finding Killian's. He was careful to keep his face impassive but I could see the worry on it just the same.

"Henry, we've been over this before," I'd sighed – I loved the kid's persistence but I wish he'd stop trying to press this particular topic, "your father and I are not getting back together."

"But he loves you," he'd argued, clearly unable to understand that his father having feelings for me wasn't enough to win me back.

"Maybe he does," I brushed the hair from his eyes and held them with my own, "but I don't love him."

"Well why not?" For a moment I'd been stunned – had he actually stamped his foot?

The surprise passed quickly though as my eyes returned to Killian's once more, "Because I'm in love with someone else."

x-x-x-x-x

"Killian…" I slur, my eyes intent on the blurry figure sitting before me as I press myself into the corner, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. I don't know what they shot me up with after I nearly killed Neal – apparently a bed being thrown at him hadn't been hint enough so he'd snuck in to see me a second time. Regardless, I think me breaking his nose – and several fingers…and toes…quite possibly a few ribs as well – got the message across. I'd been pleased with my handiwork. The hospital was not.

Thus I was given some sort of sedative and I've been slipping in and out of consciousness ever since.

"Why did you leave?" I ask, fully aware that I'm whining, "I don't understand."

He doesn't answer, just sits there staring at me. I can hear the sound of him sharpening his hook though – as he always does when he's nervous or deep in thought – the comforting scrap of stone on metal reminding me that, at least for now, he's here. And if he's here, then maybe I can convince him to stay.

"Please stay," I start to reach for him but pull back, least I scare him away. I have to be careful. If I say the wrong thing he might…no. No, I can't think like that or I'll go crazy. I can convince him. I will convince him.

"What we…what we talked about the night that we…," I can't help how my face burns at that memory and it's completely irrational! It was just a kiss! But that's not true; it was so much more than just a kiss. The truth is it was undeniable evidence that we were more than just friends – had been for a long time if I'm being truly honest.

"Anyway," I shake myself out of my memories, "I want what we talked about…with you."

There. I said it. Still, though, he doesn't answer but continues sharpening his hook and now I'm the one who's nervous.

"Killian…Killian, please say something," I plead, "stay with me please. I'll do anything…marry you, have your children…anything! Just please stay with me!"

The scraping stops and I can see I finally have his attention. Yet he still remains silent and my nervousness flares up, full force. Why won't he say anything? Doesn't he believe me? Maybe…maybe words aren't enough.

Fine. I accept his challenge. It's been a long, long time since I've…but if this is the assurance he needs then I'm more than willing…not that I wasn't already. I had thought the circumstances of our first time together would be different, but I won't complain.

With shaking hands – honestly! I'm acting like a young virgin rather than a woman with a child – I stand and quickly divest myself of the plain white hospital gown I was given in place of my clothes. Resisting the urge to cover myself I reach for his belt.

"Emma!" His voice sounds strained and there's a clatter as he leaps back, knocking over his chair.

"Killian?" My voice cracks and despite myself I feel tears pricking the back of my eyes. Before I can say anything else he rushes from the room, the door slamming behind him, the lock clicking ominously.

I don't know how long I stand there, too stunned to move, before a sob bubbles from my throat. My entire body shakes as tears spill from my eyes and I sink to the ground, curling up in a ball to try and hold myself together. I feel as if a hole has been punched straight through my chest.

He doesn't want me.

I offered him everything and he doesn't want me.

The tears refuse to stop.

x-x-x-x-x

"Archie? Are you ok?" I ask as I simultaneously knock on the door and enter the office.

With a strangled cry of surprise he jumps, his hand darting out to turn off the monitor for Emma's room.

"David!" He gasps, "I'm sorry, you startled me."

"Is everything ok? You look a bit…feverish," the Doctor's face turns bright red and I lift my eyebrow questioningly. What the heck happened?

"I-I, no, I'm fine, really," he stammers, and pulls out a handkerchief to mop up the sweat beading on his forehead, "I was just talking to Emma a few minutes ago actually."

"Did something happen?" I can't hide the panic in m voice. If something happens to her…

"No, no, nothing like that," Archie says quickly, apparently noticing my tone, "She's just very out of it between what she's going through and the sedatives we have her on. She thought I was someone else and things got…awkward."

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and sigh. At least she's ok, "What happened?"

Dr. Hopper is silent for a moment, adjusting his glasses nervously, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to file that under the doctor-patient confidentiality clause. Just trust me, you don't want to know."

If he says so I'll believe him, though now I'm really curious, "but she's ok right?"

"All things considered," he reminds me and I sigh again.

"She's going to drive me to an early grave, isn't she?" I try to lighten the mood a little, in desperate need of an emotional pick-me-up.

"I'm told that's what daughters do to their fathers," Archie gives me a small smile and pats me on the shoulder.

I sigh yet again. It says a lot about the craziness that is my life when the most normal thing about it is the fact that my daughter will be the death of me.