AN: More angst, because I have a lot of emotions where this stupid dagger is concerned.
Killian holds the dagger first.
He's not sure whether the Charmings see the absolute devastation in his gaze or if they just can't yet bare to have the blade in their possession- but they permit him to keep it, and for that, he's grateful.
He keeps it tucked in the inner pocket of his jacket, right beside his heart, which is still beating for her, still crying out for the love he's lost. Killian often catches himself running his thumb over the carving of Emma's name, allowing it to serve as a reminder of what he's working for.
The dagger is always close at hand, until the day he catches Henry nicking it from the jacket that's hung up on the Charming's coat rack.
(Killian turns a blind eye; the dagger is as close as he can get to Emma's presence, but he can't begrudge Henry this one token of his mother).
/
Henry keeps the dagger tucked between the pages of his storybook, safely nestled along the bookshelf in his bedroom.
He checks for it each morning before school and each night before bed, and often times in between. When he can't quite remember what it feels like to have hope, when he can't help but feel they've lost Emma for good, he opens the book and holds the dagger tightly in both hands.
One night before he gets beneath his covers, Henry discovers that the dagger's nowhere to be found.
(He recalls that Regina had offered to clean his room while he was at school; he doesn't ask questions).
/
Regina stores the dagger in her desk drawer, locked and enchanted with all the spells she can think to cast. She always keeps the key to said drawer close at hand, finds herself using it when Emma's last words of you've worked too hard to have your happiness destroyed echo in her head.
When she's certain no one else in around, Regina takes the dagger and brings it up to eye level, commanding the Dark One to get her ass back to Storybrooke, it's a mess without the Savior.
She means that they are a mess without her. Regina sees the lost look in Henry's eyes, the blank stare of Emma's pirate, the hopelessness which weighs down Snow and David's shoulders.
(And if one evening she slips the dagger beneath the Charming's front door, well, no one needs to know but them).
/
David keeps the dagger strapped into his belt loop. He finds himself holding tight to the handle every so often, whenever his mind wanders to their daughter and God-knows-where she is. The dagger serves as a symbol of hope- twisted and menacing, but hope, nonetheless.
(He and Snow develop a system without meaning to; when her eyes go blank and staring, when a sob chokes in his throat, they press the dagger into the other's palm).
Snow keeps the dagger tucked inside her boot. She's hyperaware of its presence against her leg, reminding her that as long as Emma's name still graces the blade, their daughter is alive. And if she's alive, they will find her.
(They all discover their own kind of solace in that knowledge).
(It's a cold comfort).