entitled; stay with me (until i fall asleep)
summary; There was the briefest flash of a smile, a laugh so light and carefree having just left her lips when the sound of a gun going off echoes in his mind, shattering their moment of happiness.
rating; m
disclaimer; i own nothing. if i did, chances are you'd all hate me by now.
notes; this was heavily inspired by 'kiss it all better' by he is we. i was listening to it over the weekend and i kind of just went with it. now i can't stop crying over it. also, entirely au. tis why killian has both hands~
stay with me (until i fall asleep)
.
now he sits behind prison bars,
25 to life and shes not in his arms.
he couldn't bring her back with a bullet to the heart,
of the back of a man and tore his world apart.
he holds onto a memory,
all it is, is a memory.
hey, hey.
he cries,
stay with me until I fall asleep
- kiss it all better ; he is we
The sounds do little to keep him from slowly working his way towards insanity. He's constantly bombarded with the occasional rattling of metal bars, the hushed, clipped tones of men in cells adjacent or across from his. The screams and shouts, the broken sobs of men claiming innocence, begging to be set free.
But the worst is nothing that comes from the outside. No. The worst is the memories of that horrid night.
He lays back on his cot, bringing his arm up to cover his eyes as they fall shut.
.
.
.
There was the briefest flash of a smile, a laugh so light and carefree having just left her lips when the sound of a gun going off echoes in his mind, shattering their moment of happiness. His eyes are on her, watching the shock on her face before her expression crumbles, the pain taking over and she falls. He surges forward, catching her in his arms, her name leaving his lips in an agonized shout before he looks up, trying to locate the person behind this.
All he sees is a gun hitting the ground, thin tendrils of smoke curling out into the cold air from the barrel of the gun.
"COWARD!" he shouts, turning, searching for the person behind this all. But he knows, in his heart he knows exactly who's behind this.
.
.
.
Lifting his arm, Killian runs his fingers through his hair, gripping the dark locks tightly and pulling. His eyelids flutter as he attempts to shut his eyes tighter, though it seems impossible, he tries and tries, just like he does every night.
.
.
.
"Emma?" he's holding her close, the blood from her wound seeping into the material of his denim jacket and soaking it through, but he doesn't give a damn. No, he's gripping her tighter, if possible, willing her not to leave him. "Emma, love. Stay with me. Talk to me."
"Damn." she manages to choke out, eyelids fluttering as she gives him her best attempt at a smile. "That really, h…hurt."
The laughter that bubbles from his throat sounds hysterical and a little desperate but he really can't bring himself to give a damn.
"Emma, sweetheart." He breathes, bending down to press his lips against her forehead, "It's going to be fine. You're going to be fine. You have to be."
He's already messaged Mary-Margaret, called 911 but she's so cold, so weak and he can't fucking lose her.
"Killian…"
He knows she's trying for a sigh, but it comes out so hoarse and broken, he almost couldn't recognize it as such. He wouldn't have recognized it, if he didn't know her as well as he did.
"Don't-" he shakes his head, covering her hand with his and lacing their fingers together. "Don't waste your breath, love." He's fumbling for the phone in his pocket again, "What the bloody hell is taking so long?"
The fingers of her free hand wrap around his wrist and the hold is so weak, so fragile, that he freezes completely.
"They're not going to make it on time." she wheezes out, "You know it…as well as I do."
He thinks it's the first time he's ever sobbed in front of her; broken and far too vulnerable, but she's dying in his arms.
How cruel Fate was to have history repeat itself.
.
.
.
He slams his fist against the wall, eyes burning with unshed tears. It wasn't supposed to be this way. She wasn't supposed to die. They had only just found each other.
Now, she was dead. And it was all his fault.
.
.
.
"It's not your fault, Killian.." she murmured, trying to reassure him with a gentle squeeze of their interlocked hands, "You didn't know he would resort to this."
"But I should have known." he hissed, burying his face in the crook of her neck, "I should have known; he did it once, why wouldn't he do it again?"
There's silence then and for a moment, he's terrified she's left him already. He pulls back and her eyes have fallen shut, but he can still see the slow rise and fall of her chest. "Emma?"
It seems to take a great deal of effort, but her eyelids flutter open and she stares up at him, "I'm dying… Killian, I'm d..ying." Tears come faster than he's ever seen on her and it kills him inside. "I don't want to die." she breathes, "It hurts… I don't want to go yet. I'm not ready to go yet…"
Tears trickle down her cheeks, and he presses his forehead against hers, feeling his own tears start to fall. He leans closer to her, brushing his lips against her cheeks, her nose, her forehead until his lips meet hers.
"I love you." He breathes against her lips.
"I l.." Her breath catches in her throat and an unbearable pain wraps itself around his heart.
Her hand falls limp in his, cold and motionless. He can no longer feel the faint tickle of her breath against his skin, or see the slow, uneven rise and fall of her chest. The once glimmering golden tresses now dull and dead against her pale face and suddenly it's like he can't breathe.
He pulls her body closer to him, the sound of an ambulance siren reaching his ears and he breaks down, her name leaving his lips in a painful, agonized scream. He doesn't imagine anything could possibly hurt any more than this.
.
.
.
The sleep never comes; he doesn't expect it to, but he still tries. Rays of light filter through the small window of his cell, forcing him to squint his eyes open and look around the small cell. His eye register a few little cups of food on the ground, something snuck in by his former cell mate when he skipped breakfast, no doubt.
His stomach growls at the sight of it, but he doesn't want to move. He refuses to, and for a brief moment he swears he sees her scolding expression in the sunlight and he's shooting into a sitting position before he can think.
"Emma?" His voice is hoarse, cracked from lack of use but he swears he hears a sigh in response.
.
.
.
David and Mary-Margaret have managed to pull him from her lifeless body; his potential in-laws putting their dislike of him aside to comfort him. But it doesn't work. He doesn't hear it. Doesn't hear their words, or even feel their embraces.
All he can see is her.
Dead. Gone.
Gone.
His eyes fall to the gun on the ground and he bends down to pick it up. David sees him and he's back on his feet in an instant.
"Killian…"
"This killed her." He whispers, fingering the weapon in his hands.
"Killian, give me the gun." David tries, taking slow, deliberate steps towards him.
"I'm going to kill him."
He's running then, not bothering to see if David's following behind him. He doesn't care. It doesn't matter, nothing matters to him anymore. Nothing but getting back at him. For her.
.
.
.
He knows he's imagining things; the scolding looks, the heavy sighs, the occasional laughter, but it's all he has. That and his memories of her. But every memory has been tainted by the images of her lifeless body and the pain of her death.
Her hair is glittering in that single ray of sunlight and he wants to reach out and touch it, but he doesn't want to shatter the illusion. He doesn't want her to go away.
"Stay with me." He pleads, and the look she gives him breaks his heart all over again.
.
.
.
The gun in his hands goes off and Gold falls.
No one catches him.
He managed to catch him on the way out of town, didn't hesitate a single bit as he pulled the trigger.
He sees no regret in the man's eyes, only hate that slowly fades as his life does. Killian stays and watches him die. He stays and waits for him to fade like Emma did.
The police arrive a few minutes after he dies and he doesn't struggle when they cuff him. Doesn't fight; there's nothing to fight for anymore.
Nothing.
.
.
.
"Stay with me, Emma." he repeats, quiet broken as he lays back down on the cot, eyelids fluttering as he fights the tears threatening to fall. "Stay with me until I fall asleep, love."
And she does.
The last thing he feels is warmth, sudden and overwhelming before he succumbs to the darkness.
[end.]