2 months ago

Emma lifts her head slightly and opens one eye. She's lying on her stomach, the sheet tangled in her legs, her arm resting on Killian's stomach. Killian looks way too energetic this early in the morning. He gives her a bright smile and Emma groans and closes her eye again.

Killian covers her hand on his stomach with his right and entwines their fingers. Emma scoots a little closer, nudging him with her nose.

"Jus' five mo' min'es", she mumbles into his shoulder.

Killian grins and kisses the top of her head. There are very few things in this world that are more adorable than Emma Swan in the morning.

"That's what you said fifteen minutes ago, love."

"An' I meant it."

Killian chuckles. "That makes no sense whatsoever."

"So's your face", Emma grumbles good-naturedly, then buries her head back in the pillow.

Killian shakes his head. Still smiling fondly, he makes his way downstairs. Maybe he can lure her out of bed with the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

Present Day

It's been five days and Killian is slowly losing his mind. Five days they are stuck in the bloody house already. At some point, Emma started behaving liked a caged wildcat, glaring at him venomously whenever he ventured in her proximity.

On the second day of their imprisonment, they got a visit from Henry, who, using their established form of communication, told them that he did the maths and the house should hold enough air for two people for roughly two weeks. Killian, at the time, thought that there was no way they would be stuck in here that long. After he read the text message, he had an inkling what the woman wanted them to do.

Every time he'd tried to do it, though, Emma had evaded him. Which was quite the feat, given that they were trapped in an enclosed space together. But somehow, she could always sense when he wanted to utter the words and made a run for it. She had taken to wearing headphones, listening to music. Otherwise he might have been tempted, at this point, to just yell it at the house in general and be done with it.

He always knew she was a stubborn lass but this is really taking things too far. There's no reason for them to be stuck in this house any longer. He is fairly certain that they could be free in the time it takes to utter a few sentences. If only Emma agreed to this assessment. He decides to take action. He's given Emma her space in the last few days, waiting for her to approach him, to talk to him, but clearly that's not going to happen.

He strides up the stairs, his frustration, which has been slowly building up during the previous days, finally morphing into anger. Emma acts as if all of this is somehow his fault, even though he is just as much of a victim as she is. Upset as he is, he still knocks on the bedroom door instead of just bursting in. There's no reply, not that he was expecting any. After a moment, he slowly opens the door.

Emma is lying on top of the sheets, fully clothed, her eyes closed, presumably listening to music, judging by the headphones on her ears. She looks very much like a brooding teenager and in spite of his anger, a small smile appears on his face. How does she manage it? He came in here looking for a fight, but looking at her now, all he wants to do is give her a hug.

Emma feigns ignorance, but he can tell from the tension in her shoulders alone that she is well aware of his presence. He crosses his arms, deciding to wait. As if she somehow realizes that he's not going to go away this time, her eyes open and she regards him with an icy glare. He's used to it by now, so he barely flinches.

Emma sits up and takes off the headphones, regarding him wearily. Maybe she also reached the end of her rope. Killian sits down on the opposite end of the bed, seizing her up.

"Listen, Emma." Her eyes flash dangerously, the warning clear as day. He continues nonetheless. "I know things haven't quite worked out the way either of us envisioned, but there is something that you need to know. There is something I was quite certain of, even before the spell. Our lives may have been an illusion, but the way I feel about you has never changed. Emma, I-"

"No", she yells at him, jumping off the bed. "I won't allow some stranger to dictate the course of my relationships." She starts pacing back and forth, obviously agitated. "I'm sick and tired of this woman forcing everybody to live the life she thinks best!" She steps closer and for a split-second he thinks she's going to shove him again. There's a fire burning in her eyes and he knows he probably should not find it hot, but that ship has sailed long ago.

Emma gestures wildly, the volume of her words rising constantly. "I'm not somebody's puppet to play with as they please. I make my own decisions. And if that means I'll have to suffocate in this damn house then SO BE IT."

She looks at him with an, in his humble opinion, adorable expression of surprise, clearly taken aback by her own outburst. She's breathing heavily, her hands clenched to fists at her sides, a blush creeping up her neck. It seems to him like the emerald of her eyes is almost pulsing with the intensity of her glare. She's probably more angry than he has ever seen her, but in spite of it, or maybe because of it, she's breathtakingly beautiful.

"I love you", he finishes his earlier speech, a soft smile on his lips. Emma's eyes widen and she takes a small step backwards. It's not the first time he said the words to her, but the first time he did it in full possession of his memories.

There's an ear-splitting noise from all around them. It reminds Killian of a huge wave crashing down, burying everything in it's wake. Both of them try to cover their ears. The sound is almost painful in it's intensity, then it vanishes suddenly, leaving them in utter silence. They turn to look out the window in unison. The barrier is still there, much to their dismay. But the bright, pulsating light has faded to a lighter colour. There are visible cracks running through the barrier of light.

Killian tries not to look too smug about figuring out the key to unlocking their cage, seeing as Emma still looks like she's seconds away from murdering somebody. Since he's the only one in her vicinity that spells bad news for him.

"No", Emma states, matter-of-factly.

"No?", Killian echoes, confused.

"No, you don't", Emma clarifies. Killian's brow furrows. "You have had some memories and- and- experiences forced on you and you're confused. But that will all clear up in no time and then you can go back to pillaging and plundering or whatever it is you normally do."

Her tone is angry, but he can hear the underlying hurt and fear. A lot he didn't understand about Emma's behaviour since the spell broke suddenly clicks into place. He tries, and fails, not to be hurt by her words.

"Emma", he lifts his hand to her shoulder in a placating gesture, but Emma flinches away from him. "Love. I fell for you a long time before the spell. Maybe as far back as our first conversation, when you were having none of my bullshit and tied me to that bloody tree." He smiles at the memory. "I'm not confused. I know exactly how I feel about you."

He watches a multitude of emotions flicker over her face. Shock, anger, confusion. Hope, unless he conjured that one up from his imagination. After a moment, she settles on anger.

"This is ridiculous. I won't be blackmailed into some grand declaration of my feelings. I'll take the damn house down brick by brick if I have to, but I'm getting out of here!" She's almost yelling at this point, her hands again clenched to fists by her side. Killian spots a small white halo appear around each hand. The air is suddenly charged, and he can feel the magic emanating from her, like a coming storm.

"Emma, calm down."

"I am calm!", she yells, "I am perfectly calm! The world has gone insane!" She's advancing on him with every word, and all he can do is back away slowly until his back hits the wall. He knows it's useless to protest, it's like arguing with the tide not to sweep him away.

"Seven months we spent under that spell! Seven months! How does something like that even happen? And now this! What does she think we are, characters in a story that she can just do to whatever she pleases? You may be a character from a fairytale, but I most certainly am not!" That point is arguable, but he knows better than to contradict her at the moment.

The air hums with a static energy that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The light around her hands intensifies and he thinks he can actually hear the magic build up, a sizzling, crackling sound. There's a part of his brain that screams at him to run, because this is going to end badly. He chooses to ignore it and instead tries to project a calm energy.

"Emma-"

"I am in control!", she shouts at him, only inches from his face, and he has just enough time to reflect that it is quite the ironic statement, before the white light bursts outwards from her hands, illuminating the whole room, knocking him out cold once more.