A/N: It's just getting up to my favourite parts! Thank you all for sticking with me, I'm really overwhelmed by your responses. Three updates in less than two weeks, a new record for me! I told you reviews help me work faster. Care to continue the trend? *wink wink*
Disclaimer: Not my world, not my characters. Just my imagination borrowing them for a bit.
Chapter Seven
Killian woke slowly, bright light streaming through the window into the room. He tried to stretch his legs but quickly changed his mind as the movement pulled at his sore back. He marveled at how much easier it was to breathe; with just minimal effort he was managing shallow but regular breaths. He was still sore, still so weak, but nowhere near as close to death as he knew he'd come just hours before. He looked around the room, head resting on the mountain of pillows behind him as he took in his surroundings in the daylight.
It was smaller than he thought, the dim light the night before lending shadows and deep corners where there were none. A chair sat empty in the corner on his left, the door beside it stood open, leading to what smelled like a kitchen area. A short chest of drawers was directly to his left, his hook and brace atop it next to a pile of clean folded cloths. On the other side, he saw Grace asleep in a chair, her head resting on folded arms on the bed beside him, and he couldn't help the grin that crossed his face at the sight of her.
She stirred just then, as if sensing he was awake. She rubbed her eyes slowly before looking at him as a smile broke out on her face, lighting up her eyes.
"Hey!" she said happily. "How are you feeling?"
He wasn't sure he had the strength to concentrate on breathing and talking, so he just smiled and nodded slightly.
"Great!" she exclaimed. "Do you want that tea now?" Killian made a face and shook his head a bit. He still had no appetite. He knew he needed to eat at some point, that fluids would probably be a good idea, but he wasn't interested right now. She laughed at his expression, the happiest sound he'd heard in a long time.
"Is he up?" Red's voice asked from the doorway. Killian turned his head toward her as she stepped into the room.
"Well," she said, "look who's got some of his color back." She motioned toward the kitchen. "Grace, I've got some porridge on the fire if you want any." He watched as the girl stood and went around the bed to the other room. "None for you yet, Killian, sorry" Red continued. "Whale wants to keep you off solid food for a couple of days, unless you think you could manage some soup?" He shook his head again, minus the cringe this time. She shrugged and smiled. "Maybe later then, if you're up for it." Grace came back into the room just then, a steaming bowl in her hands.
"You do look a lot better, Hook," Red said seriously. "I truly hope this plan works."
The plan again, he thought. What is going on that they need me so badly? His bewilderment must have been obvious because Red sighed. "Jefferson will explain it when he gets back, it was his idea. Well, his and Whale's, since they're the only ones who remember."
She smelled the air just then, a look of horror crossing her face. "My porridge!" she cried. She hurriedly ran from the room as Grace let out a laugh in her chair beside him. "She's always doing that," the girl said with a grin, holding a spoonful of cereal. "She never remembers to pay attention to it once it's already cooked."
He rested against the pillows as Grace ate her breakfast, grateful for the quiet and calm he hadn't felt in... years, probably. Sure, he was so weak he couldn't even speak, and his back was torn up to the extent that he was afraid to see what it looked like, but right now, sitting propped up in the peaceful cottage in the woods, it was almost... relaxing. He was just about to drift off when Grace jumped up suddenly, startling him awake.
"He's back!" she exclaimed as she bolted from the room. Killian couldn't help smiling at her enthusiasm. He listened carefully and, sure enough, he could hear the familiar sounds of a horse pulling a wagon. Jefferson, he assumed. Finally, some answers.
He heard the door slam as Grace ran out, yelling, "Papa!" somewhere outside. The wagon stopped and soon he heard the front door open again as footsteps headed to the room in which he lay.
Grace was pulling someone by the hand. Someone he knew, someone whose simple presence in the room took what was left of his breath away.
"Emma," he whispered.
How? He didn't understand, couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that she was standing right across from him. How is she here? Why?
She looked just as startled as he felt, her eyes filling with tears.
"Killian," she said softly. "It's true, you're alive." She came over to the bed and sat beside him, touching his arm, his chest, his face. "You're alive," she repeated softly, the tears spilling over onto her cheeks. She's here, she's really here.
He glanced up at the other two figures who stepped into the doorway. Jefferson. And Henry. The boy gave him a quick grin, but there was a deeper sadness to it, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. Something happened, something bad.
He looked back to Emma. "How-" he managed to rasp weakly, eyebrows knitted in confusion.
She laughed, a quick sob escaping her lips. "I was about to ask you first," she said as she ran her fingers down the unshaved stubble along his cheek. "I was so sure you were dead, we saw you die. But you're here."
Killian wanted to ask so many things, but he couldn't get his voice to cooperate. "I know, you want to know what happened, and I promise I'll explain everything," she said, smiling sadly, still cupping his face in her hand. "But first, let's go home."
She leaned forward just then and pressed her lips to his, surprising him. He panicked at first, as her touch sent a shock of lightning through his entire body, but gradually he felt his mouth warming to hers as the kiss deepened. Killian couldn't remember ever kissing anyone like this but, as he closed his eyes, he just knew, his lips moving in sync with hers as she pushed against him. Her fingers threaded through his scalp, weaving through the short hair at the back of his neck.
It felt so good that he forgot to breathe.
After a moment, she pulled back, her hand still tangled in his hair. He looked up at her, his lips tingling as he gasped.
She was crying, and not the same kind of tears she had shed just moments before. Something was wrong, she looked… heartbroken.
"It didn't work," she whispered, shaking her head, tears falling to her lap. "It didn't work. I'm such an idiot."
Before he could say anything, before he could reach for her, she stood and ran from the room, Henry following close behind her.
And he still couldn't breathe.
Killian felt the familiar surge of panic as he gasped silently but, just as before, the much-needed air wasn't was coming through to his chest. Grace noticed immediately; she ran to him and patted his arm frantically. "Killian?" she asked, fear in her gaze. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force his body to relax.
Not again, please not again.
"Papa!" Grace yelled as she shook his shoulder. "Red!"
He heard more footsteps as others rushed into the room. He couldn't do it, he had no strength to fight so hard again. He felt his body struggling against whatever invisible pressure constricted his throat and lungs, but he felt detached, as if he was leagues away.
Fingers grabbed at his face, his neck, pulling him off the pillows. He felt his forehead come to rest against someone else's, a hand covering the center of his chest, just above the bandages wrapped around him.
"Breathe for me, Killian," Emma whispered, her nose pressed against his.
He opened his eyes, watching her as his vision swam with tears. Emma. Her hand tapped insistently against the tensed muscles of his midsection. His own hand flew up to cover hers, grasping her fingers tightly. "Please," she pleaded. "I can't lose you again." His eyes fell closed as he leaned his head heavily against hers.
He tried, he really tried to gasp in a breath but no matter how he fought, the air didn't seem to reach his burning lungs. Sweat stood out on his skin, his mouth opening and closing uselessly as he pulled with everything he had.
He wheezed, his airway opening slightly, just for a moment. But it was all he needed. Again, another gasp of air flooding his lungs. Emma's hand, covered by his own, stayed firm on his chest. Again, another rush of air finally going in his chest. As the roaring pulse in his ears quieted, he realized she was whispering softly, the same quiet words over and over.
"Don't leave me, Killian. Don't leave me."
He felt his body relaxing, his breaths no longer taking so much of his strength. He sagged against Emma, energy spent, her hand pushing against him, holding him upright. His eyes opened on their own; he was too tired to keep them closed. "Stay with me," she murmured, her breath mingling with his.
"Emma," he breathed between pants. "Emma."
"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."
She held him for another moment as his breathing evened out. Slowly, gently, she lowered him back on the pillows. He was exhausted, weariness weighing down his eyelids as he blinked groggily, the only movement he could manage anymore.
Her hand lay softly on his chest as he fell asleep, his fingers still wrapped around hers.
Emma grabbed a cloth from the stack beside the bed and began dabbing the sweat from Killian's face and neck. What the hell was that? she wondered, the edges of panic fading. Her fingers were trembling so badly that she nearly dropped the cloth, only the warmth from his hand atop hers over his racing heartbeat kept her grounded enough to steady herself.
Henry came over and put his hand on her shoulder. "He's ok now, Mom," he said gently. "He's alive and that's all that matters."
She didn't trust herself to speak, she knew she was too overwhelmed by everything that had happened the previous day, and especially the last few minutes. She never dreamed Killian could have survived being stabbed by her father, but to see him like this, and so soon after Regina… She nodded vaguely, a lump growing in her throat. Yeah, he's alive, kid, but only just barely.
"Grace, why don't you take Henry to get some breakfast?" Jefferson said quietly from the doorway. Henry hesitated a moment.
"Go," Emma said. "I'm fine." She tried to smile at him, but she knew it came out all wrong. He gave her a lopsided grin in return, patting her shoulder as he turned to follow the girl to the other room.
Her smile slipped from her face as she turned back to the sleeping pirate. He looked so pale, so still, it was hard to believe it was really him. She'd never seen him this weak, not even when he was in the hospital after getting hit by Greg Mendel's car, not even when he'd nearly drowned in the pool last year. He seemed… fragile, a word she would never have associated with Killian Jones.
Jefferson's voice interrupted her thoughts. "You knew there was a chance it wouldn't work without his memories," he said as he walked around the bed to sit in the chair beneath the window.
"Yeah," she whispered, concentrating too hard on wiping Killian's forehead. "I just hoped that…. you know." She stopped herself as the lump in her throat grew larger, tears filling her eyes, blurring her vision. She knew now how he must have felt that time in New York, his attempt to bring back her memories earning him a knee in the groin instead of the rushing release of magic. He doesn't remember me here, so how could he possibly love me back? she wondered angrily. Why was I stupid enough to think it would be so easy?
"Henry's right, though. He's alive," Jefferson continued, "so you have some time. There's still a chance it could work."
"We don't even know if True Love's Kiss will break whatever the hell this world is now," she snapped, a fierceness creeping into her tone.
He settled back into the chair, crossing one foot over his knee. "It's still a curse. And True Love's Kiss is still the strongest magic of all. There is nothing more powerful, trust me on this. It has to work, or we're stuck here forever."
"What if it's not-" she broke off. "What if he doesn't…." Those damn tears again.
He smirked, the sound obvious in his voice. "Come on, Emma. Wake up. He's Captain Hook, pirate of the high seas for centuries, and he turned his back on all of that for you. Everyone knows how much he loves you."
She glared at him, in no mood to be dismissed so easily. "Yeah, but that's in Storybrooke. This isn't Storybrooke."
"I've read the book, remember? What about the bar wench back in the past?"
"That was different..." Wait, was it? She remembered the look he gave her when she first leaned over his table in that tavern, as if the entire world stopped and there was only one thing in it that mattered to him - her. And the look he gave her just yesterday when they literally bumped into each other in the tower, it was almost the same. Could this really work?
"Give it time," he said softly as he stood. "He'll come around. He always does."
She nodded.
He went to the doorway. "How's Henry doing with all of this?"
She almost snorted. "Oh, just great. He watched his mother's boyfriend and the woman who raised him die to save him in one day. And then finds out that Hook is still alive, but only just barely. I think Henry's having a great time on his first trip to the Enchanted Forest."
Jefferson sighed, but she didn't turn to face him. "Be patient, Emma. This will work, I'm sure it will. And Henry is, too, despite what happened with Regina."
He left the room.
Emma watched Killian as he slept, his breaths coming evenly but not without obvious strain even while unconscious. A flash of pain crossed his face, his eyes squeezing tightly as he gasped. She reached out and smoothed his hair back, whispering to him as she stroked his cheek. "Shh, it's ok, Killian. I'm here, I'm right here." He calmed, muscles relaxing as she clenched her other hand, holding his fingers tightly against the sweat-soaked bandage across his chest. He didn't know her, but even without his memories, he obviously trusted her, and he had risked his life to save them anyway.
Maybe Jefferson's right, she thought as she held his face in her hand. Maybe this can work.
"Killian, come back to me."