AN: Just a little speculation fic I had in my head. (Partially based off of theories I've seen being thrown around on tumblr). I hope you enjoy!
She had disappeared in a flash of blinding white heat, and Killian dreamed about that last terrible moment for weeks after Emma's sacrifice. He could see the dagger raised over her head, hear the way her name tore from his throat, feel the gust of wind and flame and then- nothing.
He always woke from the nightmares sweating and shaking, the air inside his cabin suffocating him. When the sense of frustration and loss weighed too heavily, he'd go above deck and seek out Cygnus in the stars, believing they were closer to her with each passing day.
(In reality, they had nothing; no leads despite weeks of researching and tracking and hoping. He would spend entire days at the library, desperately tearing through ancient books until his vision went blurry and the text became indecipherable).
Losing her this time had been infinitely more painful than the first. He now knew what it meant to be loved by Emma Swan, what it meant to feel her absence after no longer having to yearn for her presence. It was the way he saw her in everything; in all the places they'd visited together, in the eyes of her mother, in the lost look that had permanently attached itself to her son's face. Her ghost was everywhere, and leading them nowhere.
/
When their one and only lead came to them, Killian felt his heart begin to beat for the first time in thirty-four days.
Lifetimes ago, he had sworn that one day he would stop chasing her.
The moment Belle mentioned Davy Jones's curse, Killian knew he had been lying to himself. Even as his blood ran cold with fear and pure, red-visioned rage, Killian could only worry over Emma, being held prisoner on his father's island. Belle reminded him of the dangers facing Davy Jones entailed, but there was no question. Killian thought of Emma -trapped and alone and likely terrified- and knew his promise to her would be upheld; to the end of the world or time.
The six of them boarded the Jolly that same day, armed with Regina's magic and Snow's arrows, yet Killian knew his own weapon was the most dangerous of all: the will of a man in love.
His father was ruthless and powerful, but this was the one key advantage their six held over him. The fact that his father had never experienced loving another gave them the upper hand- but the fact that his father had never experienced loving Emma Swan ensured that they would rein victorious.
/
It had been days of sailing as fast and as far as possible.
Days of following Belle's map and making the guesswork for the research that could not be uncovered.
Days of staring out at the ocean's expanse, feeling like a man possessed, so certain of what he was running towards.
The damned, infernal island comes into view from his place at the helm, and Killian knows that this -every bloody bit- was worth it.
He sees her for the first time on the shore, her golden hair flown about by the wind, in a white dress, dirty and tattered at the hem.
He thinks he's never seen anything so beautiful.
/
There is a dark, cold lack of recognition in her eyes.
Killian doesn't know how, but the place has stolen her. There is no warmth in her gaze, no relief in her smile. She is laced with an impossible malice, and it makes everything, from her gestures to her wicked grin, distinctly Not Emma.
He won't give up so easily.
Killian realizes the one key difference between this and the last time he lost her; he now knew what it meant to be loved by Emma Swan.
There is no time for doubt or hesitance, and he is pulling her to him, hand on the back of her neck, meeting her sneering lips with his hopeful ones.
(She is not her, but he still weakens at the contact).
A beat. He feels the second pass in a tangible, ripple of movement. It spreads over them both, and when Killian pulls back, the recognition is there in her eyes.
She says his name like a prayer, like a wish come true; she holds him so close that he can feel the beat of her heart against his own.