Author's note: reading all of your responses to the last ch made me smile so much I looked like an idiot :)

Chapter 32

No. Killian thought frantically as he watched her leave. He knew he should reach out and stop her somehow. And yet he felt powerless, drained, and physically unable to do so.

WHY had he packed the photo albums? Why hadn't he left them in Storybrooke? Why? When she'd suggested to unpack his things he should've known that she would come across the pictures and that hell would be unleashed. How could he be so stupid and careless?

Now everything was ruined. Deeply, deeply ruined beyond repair. Emma would probably never speak to him again. Part of him couldn't believe that she still didn't believe the truth even after seeing the proof with her own eyes. But who was he kidding? This was Emma Swan he was talking about. The most stubborn woman he'd ever known.

He slowly sank down onto the floor as the realization hit him. It was over. Really and truly over. For the first time in his life he had no backup plan.

As Emma rode the elevator back up to her apartment, she was hollow. Hollow and numb. Not to mention drained. All she wanted was to curl up in bed and wake up from this awful nightmare.

But it wasn't a dream. It was real. Or was it? She honestly had no idea what was real and what wasn't anymore. With a shaky hand, she turned the key in the lock and held her breath as she entered her now darkened apartment.

It was empty. Dark, cold, and empty. She held back a wince as she took in what was, up until several hours ago, her first real home. And now...it was back to the lonely state it had been. Devoid of everything that had made her happy.

There was something left on the kitchen counter. Curious, she strode over and picked it up. Her heart clenched as she took in the picture.

It was a picture she'd taken at the duck pond in Storybrooke last weekend. A picture of her, Killian, Henry, and Ava. They'd all smiled widely for the camera. As she took in her wide grin and the eerily similar grin on Ava's face, her heart clenched painfully and she found herself ripping up the picture and throwing it in the trash.

Ava. Oh, Ava. Their resemblance was uncanny; now that she knew to look for their similarities it was painfully obvious. Their hair color, the shape of their eyes, their chins.

No. A loud voice roared inside. No. Ava was NOT her daughter. It didn't matter that they looked similar or that the photos she'd found pretty much spelled out the truth. No. They were faked and just happened to look real. It was all a lie. A big, fat lie.

Because there was no freaking way in hell she'd leave behind her daughter. She didn't even have a daughter.

Well, it didn't matter anymore. She reached into her pocket for her phone and deleted his number, along with all of the pictures she'd taken. There. They were gone from her life. Forever. Emma had half a mind to text Mary Margaret and demand the truth, but realized that if Killian was the psycho that she knew he was he could've easily photoshopped Mary Margaret and all of her other Storybrooke friends into the pictures.

Never again would she trust someone. Never again.

A week. That was how much time had passed since Emma found the photos. A week since she'd kicked Killian and Ava out of her apartment. Part of her felt bad that she had forced the sweet, little girl out onto the streets. But there was no way she could've continued on like nothing was wrong. No way she could look into Ava's eyes again.

Her life had pretty much gone back to the way it was before...everything that had happened. Well, almost. Emma felt as though she was living in autopilot, going through the motions without actually being there. But it was her mind's way of coping. Retreating back into herself and staying in her little shell. It kept her from thinking about more unpleasant things.

That, and large amounts of alcohol.

There were little reminders. Little traces that he'd left behind in her apartment. She could still smell his scent on her sheets. She'd taken care of that by throwing them all out and buying new ones. But every so often she could still smell him around, especially in the bathroom.

And the drawings that Ava had pinned up on her fridge. She couldn't bear to rip them up, so she'd stashed them in an old shoe box and shoved it deep into the recesses of her closet. Out of sight, out of mind.

Even though she'd deleted his number, it didn't stop the texts and calls from coming in. He called every hour of every day for a week until realizing that she wasn't going to respond. And then the texts started. One right after another, lengthy messages that she didn't even bother to read before deleting. Once she'd made the mistake of opening one and had come face to face with a picture of Ava. Her hands had shaken so badly she'd nearly dropped her phone.

After that, she blocked his number.

One annoyingly sunny afternoon, she was heading home, trying to ignore the sounds of laughter coming from the children playing in the park. For a split second she wondered if Ava was one of those children but then pushed the thought to the back of her mind. No. She was not going there. Not even going to think about it.

She parked her car and got out of it, fishing in her purse for her keys when suddenly she saw him. He was standing outside of her apartment building; they wouldn't let him in since he didn't live there but of course they couldn't stop him from standing outside it like a creep.

Not again. He'd been doing that for about a week, just standing there waiting for her. It was futile, of course. Every time she spotted him she'd simply go back to her car and drive somewhere else, hanging out in some bar until it was late and he was gone.

Emma sighed deeply and turned around, intending on going back to her car and finding some place to hang out in. She couldn't believe she was reduced to hiding and avoiding her own apartment like some lowly coward.

"Emma!"

Oh God. He'd seen her. She quickened her pace, bypassing her car entirely and heading into the park. The many people there would camouflage her nicely.

"Emma, wait!" He called.

His voice brought fresh tears into her eyes; she blinked them back and continued walking.

His voice grew closer. "Swan, wait. I'm begging you." He pleaded.

"Go away!" She shouted over her shoulder. "Quit following me or I'm calling the cops."

"Just hear me out."

Emma weaved expertly through the crowd as she walked, hoping that he'd give up and go away. But he was nothing if not persistent.

In a matter of seconds he'd caught up to her. "Emma." He reached out and grabbed her arm, effectively stopping her.

"Don't touch me." She snarled through her teeth as she wheeled around to face him. Wow. He looked terrible. his hair was uncombed and stuck up in the back and he needed a good shave. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered how handsome he still looked despite of all of that. She quickly pushed that thought away.

"Just listen to me, please."

"Listen to what? More of your lies?"

"They aren't lies." He said desperately.

"That's something a liar would say."

"I'm not a liar."

"You're really desperate, aren't you?" She countered. "Desperate to get me to believe your crazy story. But you know what? I'm not falling for it." She turned and started to walk away but he jumped in front of her.

"It's not a story and you know it. It's the truth, Emma. I know it sounds scary but you have to believe me."

"Believe what?!" She shouted. "That I've lost the past three years of my life and that everyone's been lying to me? Or no wait. Here's my favorite part. That I'm actually married to you and that we have a daughter?! A daughter that I left behind? You're fucked up. You really are."

"But…"

"I'll admit. I started to fall for it for a second. You really did a great job with the pictures, I'll give you that. But how stupid do you think I am? No, wait. I'll answer that for you. You must think I was born yesterday to fall for that story of yours."

"It's the truth!" He insisted. "You can't honestly believe that I would make this up?"

"I don't know." She said squarely. "I don't know what to believe anymore. But there's one thing I do know. It's that you're insane."

"Emma." He begged. "Please don't do this. I already lost you once. Please don't walk away from me again. I'll prove to you that this is all real. We'll go back to Storybrooke."

She laughed harshly. "If you think I'm going anywhere with you, you must be delusional."

"But I love you."

That was the last straw. Emma reached out and slapped him across the cheek, the force of it whipping his head back. "Screw you." She said, her voice low. She could feel tears brimming in her eyes. "The only one you're in love with is yourself and your twisted little story. Now get the hell out of my life. The next time I see you I won't hesitate to call the cops on your sorry ass." She took off sprinting back across the street, towards her apartment building.

But he followed her. Of course he did. That's what stalkers did. She was faster, running into the building, praying that the doorman would keep him out. She stopped in front of the elevator. "Come on, come on, come on." She muttered, digging her nails into her heels of her hand as she waited. She jabbed the button repeatedly. What was taking the damn thing so long?

There was a loud voice behind her, standing out from the crowd. "Swan!"

Damnit. He must've snuck in with the crowd. "Come on!" She practically shouted, pounding her fist against the button. "Faster!"

The doors began to eek open and people started to spill out, chattering happily, taking their own sweet time. It wasn't fast enough. She could feel him approaching. Spying the door that led to the stairs she pushed it open. She had to get away. Now.

"Emma, wait" He cried.

Emma started sprinting up the stairs, taking them two at a time in her haste to get away. One floor passed and then another, and then another. One look behind her told her that he hadn't followed, and she sank against the wall, breathing hard in relief. Her apartment was on the sixth floor and surely the large crowd would slow him down.

Think again. A door above her opened. Him. How he'd managed to figure out what floor she was on was beyond her. Emma took one look and immediately started reversing her path, practically throwing herself down the steps.

"Emma!"

She ignored him, continuing her frantic pace down. Her heart was pounding and her legs were starting to cramp. But she maintained her speed.

And suddenly, her ankle gave out and she went sprawling, tumbling down an entire flight of stairs, her head banging repeatedly on the hard steps until she came to a stop. She could see Killian approaching, his footsteps quickening as he hurried over to her. She tried to get up and scoot away but darkness overcame her and she was out.

"Ughhh." Emma groaned as she came to. Her head throbbed painfully, as did her ankle. She brought a hand up and felt a large lump at the base of her skull.

"Emma?" A concerned voice said. A face swam over her. It was Hook, his handsome face wrought with worry. "Are you all right? That was a quite a fall."

Wait a minute. What had she just called him?

She opened her eyes; she was lying in the stairwell. Sunshine flooded the area around her, blinding her. "What...happened?"

And suddenly, the force of it nearly causing her to black out again, it hit her. Her heart felt like a flower opening, blooming in the sun. Pops of light and color filled her mind and suddenly, everything-every memory, every moment she'd lost, came flooding through her. She remembered breaking the curse, finding her parents, being dragged into the portal with the wraith, meeting Mulan and Aurora, climbing the beanstalk with Hook, battling with Cora, nearly having her heart torn out.

Emma closed her eyes against it all, but the memories kept returning. Journeying to Neverland, jumping into the freezing water as her parents, Hook, and Regina argued; watching in frozen horror as Henry pushed his heart into Pan's chest.

Kissing Killian for the first time, and then the second, third, and fourth. All of their kisses, all of their time together, every sun-drenched, perfect moments they'd spent together came back into sharp focus.

And Ava. Feeling her daughter kick inside her for the first time. Holding her, snuggling against her, reading to her. Hearing her say "Mama" for the first time and feeling her heart swell with love and pride.

All of it. It was so beautiful, so vibrant, and so rich. Her life. It was all back.

"Emma?" He said uncertainly above her, kneeling down and taking her hand. "Are you all right?"

Him. His voice, his beautiful accented voice. "Hook." She breathed, opening her eyes, reaching up with a shaky hand to touch his face. She had to touch him, had to know that he was real. Studied him as if for the first time, catalogued his ice blue eyes and stubbled chin.

He blinked. "W-what did you just call me?

"Hook." She repeated, throwing her arms around his neck. "Killian."

"You...remember?"

She pulled away, nodding, tears already brimming in her eyes. "Yeah."

And slowly a smile started to spread across his face, a million times brighter than the sunlight filtering into the stairwell.

Author's note: :D is all I can say