Disclaimer: I own only Rose and Mason and the plot. None of the characters or settings, though I wished I owned Storybrooke so I could go on weekend vacations to it and hang out with Hook.

A/N: Review please. Also, it looks like there will be a maximum of five chapters left in this story. I thought that it was going to be the fanfiction that never ended (you know, like the song that never ends) but apparently it will not be. I was just bit by the plot bug and I finally have a way to finish this. It's not my best work, so I'm a little glad about that.

Chapter 22

Rose

I sat up, clutching my blanket to my chest and trying to figure out what had woken me up. Was it because I didn't have Killian with me? Despite the fact that my parents didn't exactly know or approve of the fact that Killian had been spending most of the nights with me, he had been, and I had recently been having trouble sleeping without him.

But I didn't think that was it. I could have sworn I had heard the window open in my sleep. Had it been only a dream? A gust of wind stole through the room, banging the window frame against the wall. I let go of my blanket and held my palms up, ready to attack anything that came through.

And then I realized that whatever was coming in was already in.

I shot a ball of pure energy at the dark shadow in my room at the same time when he flung something at me. I twisted, trying to evade it, but the blanket was tangled in my legs and it held me in place as effectively as chains.

Pain bit through me like a fire started ravaging at a forest. I screamed and shot another ball of energy at the shadow. He easily evaded it, sent a binding spell at me, and came towards me. I pushed at the magical restraints, trying to free myself, but he was way too fast for me. He reached towards me and I screamed again, a scream that I wasn't even sure escaped my lake of pain to make a sound, and pushed something into my palm.

I watched in frustration as he left the window, unrestrained, as I bled out all over the bed sheets. The pain swelled, like a wave, and my vision blanked for a moment. I floated, untether to the world, drifting back every so often only to realize that the pain was still there and then dip back into the lake of unconsciousness. Things came to me in flashes that I didn't comprehend.

The room filled with light.

My father's worried voice.

His face looming over me.

A palm crackling with magic as it pressed against my still bleeding side.

The pain increasing.

A wounded animal noise that sounded like it came from me but I didn't remember making.

The pain increasing even more.

Calling for Killian.

Killian's face filling my vision.

His hands reaching towards mine.

Finally being curled against Killian's chest, his smell drifting over me, dulling the pain.

I clutched at him, just being near him making me slightly more lucid, and bit my lip as the pain waxed and waned. During one of its waning periods I knew enough to recognize that this was my father's magic, binding my skin and organs back together.

He was saving my life.

Good.

I planned to get back to my fiancé and family.

Finally the pain receded and didn't come back again. I wiped at the tears that were dripping down my cheeks and sat up. I was cradled against Killian's chest, in his lap and he was sitting on my bed despite the way it looked like a sea of blood.

"Rose?" Rumplestiltskin gained my attention. I turned to look at him. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," I nodded.

"You're not hurt anywhere else, are you?" Killian asked, his palm running up and down my body. I caught his hand.

"I'm fine," I said.

"Who did this to you?" Rumplestiltskin asked.

"I couldn't tell," I said. "It was too dark to see anything and they didn't speak."

"So they came, stabbed you, and left?" Killian asked. His tone indicated that he thought that rather rude. I had to agree. If someone was coming to stab me, they could have at least told me the reasoning behind it. It was common courtesy.

"And gave me something," I suddenly remembered. I held up my clenched fist and slowly uncurled it, staring down into what was cradled in my pale palm.

A bean.