A/N: Two chapters in one day. I must really love you guys. This is the penultimate chapter (sniff!). I hope you like it, and thank you for sticking with me all this time!
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my world. Just my imagination borrowing them for a bit.
Previously:
Killian approached the window and grasped the frame. He lifted one leg up and over the sill, then the next. He rested briefly, balancing on the edge, breathing fast and hard, careful to keep his back away from the walls as he held the window frame for support. His back hurt, the dull ache growing with each movement he made. He ignored it. He could hear Emma's voice from the front of the house, but he couldn't make out her words. Hurry up, he berated himself.
The ground was only a couple of feet below his dangling feet. He eased himself toward the grass, stifling a cry as he tumbled to his knees. He could feel the stitches pulling at his skin, the pain flashing across his entire back. Sweat covered his skin in a fine sheen as he worked on catching his breath. He couldn't stop, couldn't think about the damage, not when he was so close.
He slowly got to his feet and held onto the outside wall of the small cottage, leaning his shoulder and hook against it far more heavily than he would have liked. Keeping the solid logs to his left, he gradually made his way to the end of the wall, the soft grass crunching quietly beneath his bare feet. He cautiously peered around the corner.
Chapter Ten
The Queen's carriage stood on the ground beside the house unguarded, the horses nibbling on the grass as they waited. Killian heard the Queen laugh from somewhere around the next corner.
Perhaps there's a weapon in there, he thought desperately. Something to help Emma. He let go of the wall and reached for the carriage door, opening it without a sound. Looking around, he saw no sword, though a small wooden box caught his eye, the intricate carvings on the lid leaving no mistake about what was inside. For the first time since hearing the Queen's approach, he allowed himself a glimmer of hope as an idea formed in his mind.
This could work, he grinned, opening the lid.
He'd heard tales of that box, of what it contained, but he'd never dreamed he'd be standing before it, plotting to use the object inside to save the woman who loved him. He quickly grabbed the item, careful not to grasp it too hard, and backed away from the carriage.
He was breathing hard, too hard, his chest heaving painfully as he leaned heavily against the wall once more. He knew with certainty that the stitches in his wound had ripped open, probably from the fall to the ground a few minutes ago; he could feel the warmth of his blood soaking the bandage on his back. Sweat stood out on his face and neck and his legs threatened to give out on him, but he forced himself to disregard the pain, the weakness.
This was it, this was his chance to save them.
He took a steadying breath and pushed off the wall and slowly made his way toward the front of the house, the delicate object cradled lightly in his hand, concealed in his fingers. Emma and her father had their swords drawn, the blades leveled at each other, the Queen standing beside her knight, Henry behind his mother.
Everyone turned to stare at him as he stepped out.
"Drop your sword," he said, each word slow and clear as he glared at Charming.
The Queen's jaw dropped as the black knight's sword immediately fell to the ground. "What are you doing?" she shouted, turning to him. "Pick that up!" Charming didn't move.
He could see Emma and Henry from the corner of his eye, he could feel her watching him, probably not too happy to see him, but he didn't dare take his eyes off the Queen and her guard. He could finish this, right here, right now, end it once and for all and save them both.
"Killian," he heard her whisper. "What are you-"
He cut her off with a quick shake of his head, his focus still on the royal before him.
The Queen visibly tried to rein in her anger as she slipped a mask of detachment over her features, giving up on her disobedient knight as she turned to Killian. "Well, well, well," she said calmly, eyeing him up and down. "If it isn't the brave little pirate, back from the dead."
"Next time, perhaps you should make sure I'm dead before leaving," he said as strongly as he could manage. He ignored the shaking in his legs, praying silently that they didn't give out on him until this was all over. Beads of sweat trailed down his neck and back, mixing with the bloody bandage he hid behind him.
Snow White smirked. "Perhaps we were a bit too hasty the other day," she seethed. "Don't worry, pirate. That was a mistake I don't mean to duplicate today." She turned back to her knight.
"Kill him. And then kill the other two." Charming still didn't budge.
Killian just smiled. "I don't think so, Your Majesty."
He opened his hand, revealing the glowing red heart he cradled gently against his chest. "You see, he can't really do much of anything at the moment."
Once again, the Queen looked horrified. "You stole that from my carriage! How dare you?"
Killian tried to shrug, but changed his mind with the pain the small movement caused. He was almost dizzy with exhaustion, and he could feel the hot blood beginning to seep into the top of his trousers. He knew the bandage must be saturated by now; he could feel his strength ebbing as he nearly toppled over. He forced his muscles to lock and caught himself, standing firmly. He covered up his pain with a broad smile. "Pirate, Your Majesty."
A glowing fireball appeared suddenly in her hand, her lips peeling back from her teeth with a snarl. "I'll take care of you myself then," she spat, raising her hand menacingly.
"Ah ah ah," he cautioned, wrapping his fingers securely around the heart. "Do you really think you're magic is faster than I am? I wouldn't risk it." The flames disappeared, but her look of hatred remained.
He lowered the grin and his voice. "Now, Your Majesty," he said carefully, "this is how it's going to work. You will take your guard and leave this place, and never return. You will give us one week to return to my ship, the three of us," he nodded to Emma and the boy, who were watching him closely, Emma's face a mask of worry and concern as she stood with her son, the sword still held firmly in her grasp. "If," he continued, turning back to the silently fuming Queen, her guard standing motionless beside her, "if we are not gone in a week, you have my permission to come after us. But once we leave your land, you will not pursue us. Are we clear?"
Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she considered his offer, and if he had the strength he probably would have been frightened. But it was so close to being over, and he was just so tired. He struggled to keep his eyes open, and balancing while standing had never been harder.
"Fine." She put out her hand. "Give me the heart, and we have a deal."
He let out a quick laugh, ignoring how the movement sent shivers of pain up his battered torso. "No, I think not. I'll hold onto this, as insurance. When we get safely to my ship, I'll have it sent to you." He spun the heart nonchalantly in his hands, careful not to squeeze it too hard. "If I see any sign of you before that week is up, a single guard spying on us, anything that even looks like trouble, your most valuable knight is dead." On the last word, he stopped spinning the enchanted heart and just gripped it, tight. Charming let out a grunt of pain, his hand coming up to his chest.
Point made, Killian relaxed his hand.
"Agreed?" he asked arching an eyebrow. The Queen glared at him, but nodded. "Deal," she spat. "One week. But if I see you around for even a moment longer than that week, I'll kill you three myself."
"Your Majesty, if I have to spend a moment longer than that in this accursed realm, I would welcome such an end," he said, trying to look bored. She spun around, skirts flying, as she and Charming headed back to the carriage. He glanced at Emma as they left, silently signaling her not to move, waiting as they drove off.
The moment the carriage turned in the distance, the moment they were finally out of sight, Killian could feel whatever reserves of energy he'd used finally slip away and he collapsed to his knees, still cradling the heart to his chest. He was done, exhausted, empty, he could feel it in every shuddering breath he took. He heard Emma call out his name as she ran to him, but he didn't have the strength to lift his head.
It was over.
He felt her fingers on his shoulders, her grasp strong but trembling. "The bandage, Killian," she whispered hoarsely. "There's so much blood." Her hand went to his back and pressed over the stab wound. He hissed, but didn't move, couldn't move.
"What did you do?" she asked sadly, her hand at his cheek.
He struggled to lift his head, to meet her eyes, which glistened brightly.
"Saved you," he rasped weakly. "And Henry. Take the ship. Get away. Live your life." His voice broke, tears forming in his eyes. "You're free now."
His head fell back down, too heavy to hold up anymore. He felt himself falling forward, as she carefully took the heart from his hand, turning him in her lap so he lay against her. He struggled for breath, forcing himself to concentrate on that one task. He was so tired, each rise and fall of his chest took so much effort. Henry sat beside him, his hand on Killian's shoulder, heart clutched gently in his hands.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. He wished he could wipe them away, but he couldn't lift his hand.
Breathe in, out. Again.
"No, I don't want to live alone anymore," she said softly. "Free or not, not without you. I can't lose you again." She stroked his cheek gently. "You promised, Killian. You promised." She buried her face in his hair, clutching at him desperately as she cried.
He wanted to soothe her, wanted to hold her, tell her it would be ok, but the words wouldn't come. He could feel himself slipping further away, it was all he could do to push himself to stay awake, stay with her. "I'm sorry," he whispered, meaning it with all his heart.
He grinned then, a slow smile that spread almost effortlessly across his face despite his exhaustion. He knew, now. He knew without a shadow of a doubt. He had no memories of ever feeling this way, but he was certain nonetheless. He huffed out a short laugh.
"What?" she asked, sniffling. "What is it? What's wrong?"
He forced the words to come. "I don't want to lose you, either" he whispered.
She brushed a hand over his forehead, smoothing his hair from his eyes. "Then why are you smiling?" she questioned.
His grin only grew. "Because," he breathed, no sound to his voice, a tear of his own running down his cheek. "I think I love you."
A sob burst from her throat as she leaned forward, pressing her face against his. "I love you too, Killian," she whispered against his skin. "Please, don't leave me." He felt her lips press against his forehead -
- any air he had left was suddenly knocked out of him by the blast of magic that burst from her kiss. Killian struggled for air, as the memories poured back into him.
the beanstalk, their first adventure
bringing back the bean he stole as he dared to hope for her forgiveness
the Neverland jungle, sticky and hot, the place he hated most in all the realms
their first kiss, leaving him more wrecked than he could ever admit
bringing her home from the past, to her family, to him
his whispered voice, "Don't you know Emma, it's you"
He gasped, desperate to hold onto what little life he had left. "Emma," he whispered.
She pulled back, hesitation in her eyes as she spoke. "You remember?" she asked incredulously.
He nodded. It worked. Her kiss worked. That meant… No, he thought sadly, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. It isn't fair. A tear slipped from his eye and ran back into his hair. Another followed. "Aye," he rasped. "I remember everything. I'm sorry, Emma. I'm so sorry." A shudder of pain ran through him suddenly and he arched back into her arms, stifling a cry. His fingers twitched at his side, he wanted to touch her, one last time.
She saw, and reached for his hand, wrapping him in her own fingers, squeezing tightly. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Killian, you saved us, you got back our memories. You're a hero."
He swallowed and took a breath, clutching at her hand with as much strength as he could manage. "Didn't want to be," he murmured, the words so heavy in his mouth, "one more person. Who let you down." He closed his eyes, fighting against the flash of pain that raced through his body.
Emma released his hand, her face blurry through the moisture in his eyes, and reached up to stroke his cheek. "You didn't," she said, running her fingers along his cheek, as he forced himself to memorize her every feature, every touch. "You didn't let me down. I'm proud of you, Killian." She dropped her head to his, her sobs coming freely now against him. His own tears ran down his face as she held him.
"That's it!" Henry exclaimed suddenly. Emma snapped up her head to look at him. "Mom, you're a genius!" He jumped up and ran inside, delicately holding the heart as he left. He was back in a moment, minus the heart but carrying the author's satchel.
"Henry, we tried that already," she said sadly, sniffling. "There's no ink left, remember?" Henry dumped the contents of the bag on the ground and then snatched up the book. He opened it to a blank page, then turned back to the bag. "It has to be here somewhere," he muttered.
"Ah ha!" Triumphantly, Henry held out the Author's pen, a smile across his face.
Suddenly, the pen began to glow, a pale blue light radiating from the tip as it completely engulfed his hand, arm, and finally his entire body before fading away. Henry seemed just as stunned as Killian and Emma.
"Whoa, kid, what the hell?" She asked slowly, eyes wide as she watched him.
He grinned at her. "I'm the next author."
"How-" she started, then shook her head. "How did you know?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "I had a feeling, but I had no way of knowing without the savior."
Emma shook her head. "I don't have any magic here. And we still don't have anything to write with. "
Henry's smile only grew. "We don't need your magic, Mom. The Author created this world by using the blood from the dark savior. That's why he wanted you to turn evil so badly. In this world, we don't need a dark savior, we need a light one."
"Kid, I told you, I don't ha-"
"It's isn't you," Henry interrupted, grin never wavering. "You didn't break the memory curse. You're not the savior here. Hook is. He broke the spell this time, by loving you. He's the hero."
Emma looked down at Killian. He didn't know what to say. He didn't think he could say anything if he tried. He could barely keep his eyes open, and following what Henry was saying was a greater challenge than it should have been.
"He's right," she whispered. "It's you, Killian." He tried to argue, tried to explain why it couldn't be him, but he couldn't even move his mouth. Darkness began to creep into the edges of his vision, it was all he could do to keep breathing, each gasp of air more desperate than the next as he grasped her hand weakly.
Henry reached over and touched the tip of the pen to the small pool of his blood that had dripped to the ground as he lay there. Killian struggled to stay awake, forcing his eyes to stay open as they tried to close forever. He watched as Henry tapped the pen against his lips, thinking hard. His eyes lit up suddenly. "Got it." He bent over the book, pen scratching furiously as he read the words he etched on the fresh page.
"Thanks to the hero Killian's sacrifice, Isaac's villainous work was undone."
There was a bright flash of light, and Killian knew no more.