A/U Well hello there dumplings! Your reviews are much appreciated and I want to hug all of you for making me smile with each one. I feel like Cornelius Fudge at the Quidditch World Cup when I say… LET THE FUN (I know he says 'match' but humor me) BEGIN!

Chapter Nine: Save You

The sun was drifting down the horizon at a languid pace, the blue sky slowly tinting to a strange purple as the sunset approached. The second the group had collectively noticed the lake in the distance, their pace had quickened, hearts racing and breaths deepening as they realised just what they had arrived at. The air felt heavy as they waded through the now-sparse forestry that surrounded them.

There was a feeling of anticipation as they'd trekked through the woods, a sentiment that felt like a rope linking them all together because they were all experiencing it. They had nothing left to talk about in those last metres before they emerged the clearing. Everyone was far too caught up in their own mind, their own thoughts consuming what little attention they could spare in the Neverwoods forest.

As Killian, who was the leader of their group, stepped out into the large clearing, his eyes fell instantaneously on the waters of Lilith's Lagoon, shining like a million tiny diamonds were implanted into the surface of the unmoving lake. The calmness of it all left an eerie impression on the grassy expanse.

Lilith's Lagoon sat on the edge of a cliff and, as Killian's eyes drifted up from the enchanted waters, he let himself drink in the site before him. The tree line started about five metres from the edge of the lake, and followed its perimeter in a semi-circular shape until it reached the edge. If it weren't for a small section of land separating the lagoon from the cliff, it might have been a sort of waterfall.

Nevertheless, there was a very clear and very intentional view of the Neverland Sea that stretched out to touch the sky; the same precipice that the sun was now moving down towards at what felt like increasing speed.

Their group quickly gathered around the edge of the lake and the anticipation rolled of their small congregation in near-tangible waves. Neal still held Emma and, at Charming's instruction, placed her gently near the edge of the lake. Killian watched as the man lightly traced the side of her face before standing up and stepping away, and the pirate felt a muscle in his jaw tighten at the tender affection.

He dismissed the reaction, attributing it to the still-existing tension between himself and the Dark One's son. Killian turned towards Emma's parents.

"Do you have the blanket and the pixie dust?" he asked Snow, though he already knew the answer. The woman would have sooner died than lost the key to her daughter's resurrection. She swiftly extracted the two items from her back pack and gave him a meaningful look as she handed them over to him. He immediately turned away to face Henry.

It had been decided that, since the ritual required a soul mate or something akin to and Emma had successfully revived Henry with true love's kiss at some point in time (a fact that Killian had not been all too surprised to hear – the bloody woman would probably walk over hot coals for her son), the kid would be the one to perform the ritual. Or at least, he would be the anchor.

Henry waited patiently for Killian to turn to him, though it was obvious that the child was having a hard time staying calm. With a haphazard glance at the horizon to gage their remaining time, he handed the pouch of white-gold dust to Emma's son along with her prized woollen baby blanket. It was her most precious possession and thus was needed for the ritual.

However, since there was only one, they could only perform the ritual once.

That was the only catch with this – soul retrieval's were a one-shot chance. Should you not have the correct item or correct person or even not the correct amount of pixie dust, the soul would remain in the realm indefinitely.

It was obvious that both Emma's parents and Neal were anxious about laying Emma's life in the hands of her eleven-year-old son, their eyes darting over his every movement. But, for some reason or another, the pirate had faith that the boy would sooner die than fumble this most important task.

Henry nodded solemnly as he took the two items in his hands and approached the edge of the lake.

Killian stepped back in the opposite direction to Emma's parents and Neal. Regina stood near the edge of the clearing, evidently feeling unwelcomed into what could become the resurrection of her sworn enemies' daughter. He didn't care though; he kept his eyes on the small boy standing at the edge of the lake.

The kid's small hands managed to untie the pouch as he clung tightly to the blanket under his arm, taking some of the white-gold powder and studying it momentarily. For a moment, Killian saw the innocence in him light up like a flame in darkness, his small soft eyes taking on an awe-struck look.

Nevertheless, the seriousness of their situation crashed down around him and his expression sobered. Taking a handful of the beautiful substance, he spread it over the blanket. He made sure to coat the entire thing so that eventually, it looked like a small ball of white fluff and pale gold glitter.

Henry held his mother's blanket at arm's length, inspecting it carefully to ensure that it was saturated in the pixie-dust and, satisfied that it was, held it closer to his body again.

Killian could see as Emma's son watched the lake, probably trying to see down to the bottom – as everyone did upon first seeing the beautiful body of water. The surface of the lagoon was flawless, like unbroken glass that occasionally flickered should a stray beam of light hit it. However, at its radius of about fifteen metres, it was clear the lake was deep by the dark blue that could only indicate fathomlessness.

But, because it was beautiful, the pirate knew it was deadly should someone fall in. Neverland may have been a perfect picture of exotic flowers and sandy beaches, but, for all its beauty, the realm was covered with reminders of just how delicate humans were. The pink flowers that rested on the trees enticed ignorant victims to stroke their silky soft petals, unaware that the moment it sensed heat in close proximity a black acidic gas would erupt from the miniscule pores, melting anything it could touch.

Killian shuddered thinking about his experience with the fauna of Neverland, horrific images flashing in his mind's eye. He blocked out the gruesome pictures by focussing his attention back onto the calm waters in front of him.

Lilith's Lagoon didn't have a known ending and Killian would guess that the reason no one had ever isolated the depth of the lake was because it didn't have one. It was, after all, the barrier between Neverland and the Wraith's Void.

Killian's gaze turned heavenwards as the temperature dropped marginally, the heat of the day wearing off as the sun's light became less penetrating. The sky continued to change colour, the watery purple tinting to pink as strands of orange streaked the vast space above them. The sun continued to descend and the clearing was silent as they waited for it to touch to edge of the horizon.

Every single person that stood around Lilith's Lagoon did so with bated breath.

And, as the fiery golden orb in the sky was just about to scrape the edge of the horizon, Henry threw the blanket into the lake. The small item caused the iridescent surface of the lake to ripple and splash as it hit the water, drifting down into the depths of Lilith's Lagoon until the bundle of wool was invisible beneath the masses of enchanted water.

Killian looked up just in time to witness as the sun touched the horizon and then it was as though the Neverwoods ceased all movement and time began to close in with every blink and every breath. Tick tock.

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"What's she like – your wife?" Emma asked, leaning her head in her hands as her elbows rested on her knees. Lancelot grinned endearingly, his gaze going to the sky as he visualised his wife. The blonde couldn't help the feeling of pity that began to gather in the bottom of her stomach; this man who, after who knew how long, was still holding out hope that his lover would find him.

Even she was beginning to have her doubts.

Time wasn't really measurable in the realm in which she was stuck – there was no night, only the dim grey daylight that extended forever. So, for all Emma knew, she could have been there for years and wouldn't know it.

The monotony of the place made it feel like she'd been there decades.

Lancelot finally turned back to face her, interrupting her thoughts, "She's beautiful. She has these gorgeous almond shaped eyes, and they're brown and they always make you feel warm when she looks at you. And she's so kind… but also a fighter. I've never met a stronger fighter – or a smarter. She beat me in a swordfight once – when we first met… but then, I'm probably biased."

Emma felt a small smile dust her lips, "I think everyone's allowed to be a little bit biased when it comes to people you love. For example, I think my son is the most intelligent young boy I've ever met – and ballsy."

"If he's anything like you, that's probably right," Lancelot said genuinely, and Emma noticed that he considered her with what appeared to be veneration. The instinct to put a wall up kicked in and she found it within her to subdue it, because if she was going to be in this realm for a while she might as well let someone in – after all, she was technically dead for all intents and purposes.

Emma rolled her eyes and flicked a bashful hand in his direction. She stood up, brushing herself off and looking around them with a sigh. It really was a wearisome place.

She was musing this thought when suddenly, she felt a wave of dizziness settle over her and she stumbled on the spot. Lancelot quickly stood up, gripping her arm and steadying her as she felt the air thicken. Her muscles felt strangely sore and stretched, her sight dimming momentarily before returning with added quality. Everything was abruptly very well defined and her gaze flitted to Lancelot's face.

However, he was staring at her with an odd look etched on his face; like recognition mixed with sadness.

"What?" Emma asked, searching his eyes for an answer.

He didn't utter a word, and when he didn't, Emma looked down at herself with concern.

She was glowing.

Anxiety overtook her confusion, swallowing it as she tried to pinpoint the source of the feint golden aura that radiated from her skin. It was quite a disconcerting sight to behold.

"What's going on?" she asked, pinching herself on her forearm. Her skin reddened as the blood rushed to the area but the glow did not cease and she looked back up at the man still staring at her. He finally shook himself out of his reverie though, and smiled lightly.

"You're going home."

"What?"

"I've seen that before. Only once. Right before Phillip told me he heard a voice and then he just sort of faded away," Lancelot said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder as her eyebrows knitted together.

Her blue-grey eyes met his and she took a deep calming breath, "Okay, so I should be hearing a voice soon?" he nodded, "And then what?"

To that, Lancelot had no reply, but the smile he gave her inadvertently calmed the nerves that were attempting to consume her. Silence enveloped them in the endless field and the blonde strained her ears for any sound, any voice that she might recognise. Nothing came, and something in the depths of her bones whispered that something was wrong.

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"Mom?" Henry's voice called out tentatively, "Mom?"

Nothing happened.

Killian watched lake for any signs of movement but there were none and Henry turned around to give his grandparents an uncertain look. They smiled back reassuringly though even the pirate could sense the lack of true conviction behind their mannerisms. The couple's faces immediately resumed their anxious appearance as the boy turned back to the still waters.

"Mom! It's Henry! Come back!" he called out, louder this time.

He took a minute step closer to the edge of the lake, "Mom! Emma! Mom!"

Still nothing.

The sun was still moving down into the water, nearly a quarter of the way consumed by the Neverland Ocean. Snow and Charming stepped closer, their hands interlocked.

"Emma!" the petite woman called out desperately, her husband following suit.

"Em!" her father yelled.

Nothing.

Neal stepped up and Killian had to quell the urge to tell the man to sit down, "Emma… Ems!"

It was with brief cruel satisfaction that he registered that nothing happened before he scolded himself for being so selfish. If it meant Emma would come back, he didn't mind Henry's father being revealed as her kindred spirit or whatever. Regardless of the lack of response, Neal continued to call, they all did.

But still, there was nothing.

The sun was still setting; an unforgiving timekeeper reminding them of their inferiority in the presence of powerful magic. Even from where he was standing, the pirate could see the tears glistening on Snow's cheeks as she continued to call out, her voice coming out as a strangled cry more so than an actual appeal.

Charming's arm moved to encircle his wife's shoulders, his own yells hoarse with the emotion threatening to pull him under. He stopped calling as his eyes found his wife's and her voice waned for a while before it drifted off into pitiful moaning.

Henry finally turned to glance at Killian, his eyes searching for a flicker of hope among the sudden desolation his family was displaying. Neal had finally stopped calling out, having fallen to his knees with a detached expression etched into his features.

The pirate looked up at the sunset, the glowing orange circle now halfway consumed – half of their time having gone.

Their window of opportunity was rapidly closing and Killian felt his heart-rate pick up at the sudden realisation that they might actually fail – that all of it may have been for nothing. Their luck would end, she would die, he would die. And that thought, that he would never see her alive again – for real this time – was like a swift blow to his stomach. He nearly keeled over from the sudden and unsuspecting pain it caused him.

He clenched his fist, chewing his bottom lip and waiting for something, anything, to happen as her son soldiered on; all but screaming his mother's name over and over.

"Come on, love," Killian whispered in spite of himself.

To his utter shock, the water glowed ever-so-slightly, an evanescent turquoise shine lighting up the centre. Henry noticed this and his voice grew with conviction but the glow didn't come again. It took the pirate a moment to realise what had happened and, with hesitation, he took a marginal step in Henry's direction.

"Emma," he said quietly to himself, testing his theory.

The water glowed again.

He raised his eyes to the horizon – the sun was going down fast. They didn't have much time.

"Emma," he called, louder this time. The glow lasted longer, glowing in the fading light and then disappearing again. Henry's shouts persisted, and the pirate could tell that he would have no voice the next day by the way his words were cracked and broken.

Dismissing all inhibitions, everything that told him he was being stupid and naïve, everything that screamed at him to leave it because it would only result in his hurt, Killian moved to stand beside Emma's son.

"Emma!" he yelled, "Swan! Emma!"

The glow returned, spreading to the perimeter of the lagoon and growing in intensity with every avid shout and cry. Henry stopped shouting to look at the towering man beside him, realisation in his soft hazel eyes. He glanced between the lake and the roaring pirate, putting together the two undeniable facts presented to him silently.

The boy turned to look back at the rest of his family, at Snow who was no longer looking at them. She was leaning on Charming and the way she lamented into him made Henry think his grandmother was convinced they had failed.

Neal still sat to the side on his knees, eyes downcast and glazed over in deep, irretrievable thought. They had all given up.

Killian persisted with his calls, even when his voice began to waver with the effort it was requiring to yell out her name over and over; "Emma! Emma! Swan! Come on, love!"

It was oddly reminiscent of the time atop the beanstalk, when she had left him. He'd been furious and, reluctant as he was to admit it, hurt. Killian had been genuinely invested in her cause, honesty in his every word and action. And she'd still abandoned him – something he was yet to forgive her for, even in her current state.

Except, when he'd called out her name as she left him he'd been demanding for her to return out of anger, betrayal and something much deeper. This time, she was already gone and he was begging her to return; not just to him, but to her family and her life where she belonged. It was with hope and desperation that he repeated her name this time.

The sun was nearly gone, covered up by the edge of the ocean. The light was disappearing, the darkness coming out as a reminder of their closing time frame. It would be over soon, and a tiny voice in the back of the pirate's mind scolded him, crowing out in protest at the bright glimmer of hope that lit the dark recesses of his thoughts.

But nothing, not even his deepest, unrealised insecurities, seemed to matter as he continued to beg her to return with unrelenting vigour.

"Emma!"

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Emma turned her gaze on Lancelot, her stormy blue-grey eyes shaded by anxiety. She was still glowing but there was no sound, nothing for her to latch on to. Her companion's brow furrowed and he shook his head in confusion.

"Can you hear anything yet?" he asked, though he would already have known the answer.

"No… I – I can't," Emma replied, and for a long moment she considered what it would be like staying here for eternity. If her family really couldn't bring her back, if she was destined to live out her days in this never-ending field.

It was like a blow to her stomach and she had to resist the urge to keel over.

There would be a time when good didn't win – it was inevitable. But was this that loss? Was the ultimate death of the saviour that loss?

Lancelot abruptly grabbed her arm, his firm grip distracting her from the treacherous thoughts beginning to enter her head. His expression was panicked and his eyes scanned hers imploringly, glancing down at her body for a moment before meeting her blue-grey irises again.

"Don't you dare lose hope," he said, shaking her ever-so-slightly as if to get his point across.

Emma didn't understand what he meant until she looked down at herself. The skin that glowed gold was still iridescent but it was slightly opaque, the ground beneath her able to be seen through her legs; she was fading. She looked back up to Lancelot who still held her steady. But she didn't know what to say because she hadn't even realised she'd been losing hope.

How could you stop something you didn't know was happening in the first place?

He jarred her again, "Emma. Don't lose hope."

Her figure had faded infinitesimally again and she shook her head, "I don't know what I'm doing. It's not something I can control."

"Yes it is," Lancelot insisted, "you control it. Please don't give up."

Emma cocked her head to the side sadly, "How?"

"Just… don't," he replied, letting her go. The blonde opened her mouth to speak again when something quiet interrupted her thoughts. A voice drifting into her ears like a heady fog rolling into the field. She could feel it; like it was something tangible she could grapple and hold on to.

"Come on, love."

It was fleeting though, and as quickly as it had come, it soon disappeared again.

Her eyes widened and she locked them onto Lancelot's.

"Did you –"

"Yes. Yeah, I heard something but I'm not sure," Emma replied, looking around their surrounding as though she might find the source of the voice. The silence was deafening as she strained to hear the voice again, and she was beginning to worry when it came again, tentative as if testing the waters.

"Emma."

She was shocked by whose voice it was; that lilting melodic tone that, despite her best efforts, caressed her with its soft tenor. She felt her mouth gape slightly and then the voice was back, calling her back, pulling her attention away from the man still standing in front of her.

It was a strange sensation, and every time the voice called out to her, she felt the golden glow become brighter and her body felt like it was tensing and hardening. She felt solid.

Lancelot smiled and the blonde watched as he dropped his arm and stepped back.

"Emma! Emma, come on!" the voice begged, drawing her away.

She would never have the words to properly explain what it was like; the sound was almost touchable, something she could feel with her mind. If she wanted, she could clasp onto it and see where it led, and she was sure it led to somewhere brighter than this dull landscape. She was positively certain it led home.

But there was something she needed to know, something that they hadn't yet discussed.

"What was your wife's name?" Emma asked, taking Lancelot by surprise with the sudden inquiry. He shook his head in confusion and she tried to momentarily drown out the man's voice growing louder and more frantic in her ear.

"I'll bring you back – what's your wife's name?" she asked again, watching with warmth as he gave her a caring smile.

Lancelot opened his mouth to speak but his words were drowned out by the voice now breaking with the effort it was taking to continue calling to her. She wanted to snap at it to shut up but couldn't since there was no way for its owner to actually hear her.

"What?" she yelled, but her voice was muted and the glow brightened.

He replied again but the voice drowned his response once again. For some peculiar reason, Emma felt like the voice was a sort of rope and she could sense the end of the line coming on quick. She had one more chance to get the woman's name before she would have to grab hold of the hopeful pleas.

"What?" she boomed and yet it only came out as a whisper.

With one last cry, Lancelot called out the name. And Emma grasped onto the familiar accented voice in her head. There was a whooshing noise and everything became too bright, white light blanking out her vision and forcing her to close her eyes against the maelstrom of sensations.

She didn't know if she'd caught it in time, and had no time to muse it as her body was pulled in all directions at once.

The voice was her anchor, rushing past nothingness until she reached a final barrier. It was rigid and she used all her willpower to push against it, struggling to keep a firm grip on the constant cries of her name.

Fatigue began to seep into her bones and it was the first time in what felt like forever that she actually felt something.

The only problem was that the exhaustion prolonged her struggle against the barrier.

And she momentarily forgot the world, why she was doing it, why she was even trying. Her memories were hazy, her feeling all but lost. It felt wrong, but she couldn't place why. There was a strange tugging sensation, greater than gravity, enticing her to let go and come back down. To fall into the abyss of nothingness that awaited.

She was beginning to loosen her hold, when the voice called her back, hauling her through the barrier and away from the treacherous contemplations.

"Emma!"

And then everything was blank.

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Killian looked desperately up towards where the sun was still setting, and he could almost feel it laughing at him, calling him on his failures. He called out over and over, his voice breaking and his throat being torn apart until his voice didn't even sound like his own.

There was maybe a few seconds left, the golden hues all but gone from the sky as the sun slowly ended the daylight. He looked back towards the rest of their troop; at Snow who had finally succumbed to grief and fallen into her husband's arms. It was incongruously resonant of the first time Emma had died, and she had lain broken over her daughter's motionless body.

He shifted his gaze towards Henry's father, to Neal. He'd fallen to his knees, his eyes staring off into oblivion. Something in him seemed fragmented, and not even the rapidly dropping temperature could shake him from his reverie.

And finally, Killian's ice blue eyes landed on Henry, who still fervently called out to his mother as though his last thirty tries hadn't already failed. The small boy was immovable, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes focused on the glowing waters of Lilith's Lagoon.

For some reason, seeing this – her son, defiant, unwilling to give up – gave him new vigor. It reminded Killian of her.

The sun was about to set, it's last light glimpsing on the horizon as he called out as loud as he could manage despite his mangled throat.

"Emma!"

And then the sun had disappeared behind the dark blue ocean, the stars their only light on the cliff. It was silent except for the soft whimpers of Snow as she pressed her face into her husband's shoulder.

Henry looked up to meet the pirate's blank stare, and Killian was unsurprised to see tears forming. The child bit down hard on his lip, turning back to the glowing waters.

Had they failed?

Killian's forehead creased in a deep frown, his mind reluctant to admit defeat. She couldn't be gone. Just try again. Maybe the blanket wasn't her only prized possession. Maybe they'd gotten the ritual wrong.

She wasn't gone.

She couldn't be.

He let his eyes drift slowly back to the lake, the eerie turquoise glow tinting their faces a strange shade of green.

Suddenly, a shocking white mist erupted from the centre of the lake. The small group of people looked up, their eyes glued to it as it rose up about a metre off the surface of the lagoon. Its undefined shape morphed into a long silhouette, most likely human.

Without warning, the strange bright smog rushed across the lake. It wasn't difficult to determine its desired destination as it rolled through the crystalline surface of the water.

Emma's body didn't move as it enveloped her, almost masking her figure entirely as it wrapped its smoky tendrils around each of her extremities. The white mist expanded momentarily, a bright light shining from the centre of her form, and then it began to retreat into her until eventually there was a feint white glowing surrounding her body.

Everyone was quiet as it subsided completely, and the lake too lost its radiance. There was a moment of collective silence, and then their entire group was moving closer to her.

Killian stayed further back – and for many reasons; he didn't want to intrude but there was also still a small part of him telling him he'd failed and that it was all just a fluke. So he didn't move too close, because he didn't want to get too close only to see he'd failed. Just like he always did.

Henry was immediately at Emma's side, his small hands gripping her arm in a desperate bid to help her wake up. The darkness of the night made it near impossible to see and Regina approached the small congregation of people gather around the blonde.

Neal was kneeling beside Henry, her parents on her other side.

As Regina approached, she took off her black leather gloves, flicking her wrists thrice before concentrating hard. It was like turning on an old dusty light, flickering a couple of times before a dull brightness shone from her palms, illuminating their small group.

From his spot two metres away, Killian could just see as Henry looked up at his adoptive mother hopefully, an underlying lacework of gratitude there as well. She smiled back, nodding in silent reassurance as he turned back to stare at his paternal mother's cemented face.

A pin dropping could probably be heard as they waited, the silence stretching out for what felt like hours but was surely only minutes.

And then, before anyone had time to doubt themselves again, there was a flicker of movement. Her eyelids fluttered slightly, the long dark eyelashes brushing against the pale cheeks.

Though they couldn't see it, pink began to blossom in said cheeks, tinting them a healthy shade of rose. Her torso warmed and a small breath escaped her pink lips. They parted marginally before suddenly, a pair of stormy blue-grey eyes opened.

Emma Swan took a great heaving breath and Killian Jones released one he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

I know this chapter wasn't as big as some of my other ones but hopefully I made up for it with the fast-pace and what-not. Now the fun can really begin because oh hey der Emma, you're back.

Reviews are jumping in a volcano when Colin O'Liferuiner said our favourite line at Comic-Con. Don't lie. I know you did it – we all did!