Again, sorry for the delay. There are approximately two chapters left. However, clearly my predictions are off and you shouldn't trust a word I say.

As always, thank you for your kind reviews and for continuing to read this. I promise to respond to your reviews as soon as this story is finished. They're always super appreciated!

I can never fully express my gratitude to my beta-extraordinaire, Trish Tavor. (Thank you!)

The Present

After that particularly gruesome tale, Emma forced her mind to move as far away from people being burned alive as possible. It was a subject that was now a bit of a sore point for her after believing that her own mother had been burned alive.

Now she completely understood Killian's apparent fear that she would think differently of him after hearing about his past. As usual, Killian was avoiding eye contact now, although she noticed that his gaze kept sliding towards her when he thought she wasn't looking.

She offered him a small smile, attempting to be reassuring. Emma was trying to be non-judgmental, and she thought she was largely succeeding. This was the story that made it hardest for her not to alter her views about the pirate. Still, she was able to remember that the Killian before her was almost a different person. She'd seen exactly the same thing with Regina - no, the evil queen - in the Enchanted Forest over the last few days. The Regina she knew was rough around the edges, sure, but she was no longer evil. It was the same with Hook; it was unfair to judge him for things that he'd done almost two centuries ago.

"Wait. Hold on a second. You still didn't tell me why you and Milah didn't have kids, not entirely. Did you try magical solutions after that? Did she abort the kid every time she got pregnant?"

"Ah, yes. I forgot to mention that part. Her abortion left her infertile," he said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably.

From his distant expression, Emma decided that another subject change was in order.

"What happened after... um-"

"After I burnt two people alive?" Killian finished her sentence bitterly.

Even though she'd bitten her tongue before when she'd seen him this disgusted with himself, Emma felt like she couldn't this time. Maybe she'd thought any words of comfort she had to offer would be shallow, or else they would be too touchy-feely to be comfortable, but Killian had offered comfort to her in her darkest moments over the past few days. It was about time that she did the same, even if it was uncomfortable. Before she could change her mind, she forced the words out.

"It was a long time ago. Sure, it was bad, but you're not that person anymore. Stop beating yourself up about it." She cringed internally. The words sounded incredibly stupid aloud.

Killian turned to her in surprise, searching her face with inscrutable eyes. After a moment, his expression softened. Emma cleared her throat, feeling awkward under his gaze. Perhaps sensing this, Killian continued his tale.

The Past - 1827

It took Killian months of traveling from port to port in disguise, but eventually he had the luck to come across a tavern owner who had seen both his ship and overheard where it was headed. The crew had questioned him about a certain man, asking if he'd seen him ("Oh, hell, you're him, aren't you?").

His crew was still looking for him. In spite of everything, Killian's heart swelled.

He paid to secure passage to his ship's next destination - yet another port along a string of ports around the prison he had escaped - and finally found his beloved ship. The sight of it would have made him cry in relief if he wasn't a feared pirate captain and above such things.

By the time he made it to the gangplank, he'd already been spotted. Milah ran to him, but was barely beaten by Kraken, who barked and jumped at Killian, attempting to lick every inch of him. Killian shoved him away just before Milah reached him. She jumped into his arms, almost knocking him over. Her eyes were wet as she pulled away to look at him, her hand coming up to caress his face before her lips met his. God, Killian had missed her.

Owen came next, a bright smile on his face. "Killian! We were worried that we'd never find you!"

"Were you?" Killian asked, eyes glinting.

Milah looked at him in clear confusion. "Of course he was. He's been leading our search for you, love."

The grin had slipped off of Owen's face. The crew had gone silent. Even Kraken was quiet, looking at Killian with big eyes.

"I know why you might be wary of me, Killian, but I swear that I knew nothing about Jacques' plan." Owen took a step forward, holding up his hands in a placating gesture, which only served to irritate Killian further. "When the members of the crew who went with you disappeared along with you, we thought they'd been arrested too, but then Guillaume came and told us everything. He'd tried to come warn us about Jacques, but he didn't make it in time..."

Against his better judgment, Killian wanted so badly to believe him. This was Owen, his second mate and his oldest living friend besides Milah. Even so, it seemed far too convenient that Owen would gain charge of the ship if Killian was gone. He was old friends with Jacques, and he was also intelligent enough to gain the crew's approval by leading a search for Killian. By now, Killian had been betrayed too many times to take the risk of forgiveness. Instead, he summoned several of the pirates behind Owen. They stepped forward somewhat reluctantly, but they were well-trained to follow the captain's orders. Owen fixed his eyes on Killian's in a silent plea, but Killian looked away.

"Put him in the brig."

To his credit, Owen didn't try to run or struggle.

"I've known you since we were kids, Killian," he said instead as he was pulled away. "I would never hurt you."

Killian did his best to ignore him, but it was difficult when Milah grabbed his arm, eyes flashing. "Killian, I believe him. This is wrong. Don't do this."

As hard as it was to resist Owen's pleas, it was harder to resist Milah's. Nevertheless, he had already made his decision, and he couldn't back down now without appearing weak.

He stepped around Milah and ordered the crew to prepare to set sail. Milah trailed behind, still arguing.

"What are you planning to do with him?" She demanded eventually. "If you kill him, Killian, I'll never forgive you."

At that moment, Killian realized that he hadn't decided what to do with him yet. It was hard to imagine killing Owen. He supposed he could maroon him or drop him off in another country so he wouldn't have to.

Killian decided to compromise. He did believe in good form, after all. "I have yet to determine his guilt, so he'll stay there for now as a precaution."

"Well, I've determined his innocence," Milah snapped.

For a moment, Killian debated playing the 'I'm your captain so you'll obey me' card, but he quickly shoved that idea away. Any use of it in the past had been met with disastrous results. Instead, Killian ignored her, which led to Milah ignoring him until they reached the next port. Normally, Killian would have spent the evening with her, perhaps have a drink in the town or enjoy dinner on the unusually quiet ship, but her anger made that impossible. Faced with another night of stony silence and subtle glares, Killian decided to abandon the ship for the evening. He knew that his crew always went to the nearest tavern or brothel, so he decided to join them and get a drink. It was better than dealing with the guilt and anger that went through him whenever he looked at Milah or thought about Owen. Killian had yet to visit him or come to a decision about his fate, but he knew Milah had visited him multiple times. It was easier to pretend that his former friend didn't exist than to decide what to do with him.

Milah was sitting with her sketchbook in their cabin, her back facing Killian so that he could only see her beautiful dark hair. Kraken was laying next to her, head resting on his paws.

"You're welcome to join us at the tavern, if you wish," he murmured, planting a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

She didn't acknowledge his presence, nor did Kraken. Even the dog seemed angry at him.

Killian bit back his annoyance. "Well, if you change your mind..."

He and several crew members walked to the nearest tavern to join some of the other pirates who had decided to start drinking early. If their captain compensated for his bitterness and heavy heart through over-exuberance, none of his crew were foolish enough to mention it.

On the way back, however, an outlet presented itself in the form of an old beggar in a worn brown cloak. Killian was walking along, joking with his crew in an attempt to forget the tatters that his life was currently in, when the beggar bumped into his right side with a fair amount of force. As always, being bumped into triggered Killian's temper immediately. He could swear whenever it happened that he could suddenly smell lavender or see his mother's face as she died. In this case, he had enough anger already built up to bring about truly disastrous consequences.

"Hey, you! Stop! Even gutter rats have more manners than you just displayed!" Killian hid his rage under a mask of joviality, but anyone who knew him well would have seen that trouble was brewing.

The man quickly apologized, and Killian caught sight of his face, completely covered with mottled, leathery, scaly skin of a grey-green colour.

"Ah. I was wrong," Killian observed, wondering vaguely what sort of skin disease would cause such disfigurement. He hoped it wasn't contagious, and made a point not to touch the man's skin directly just in case. "Not a rat at all. More like a crocodile."

With a laugh, he knocked the metal cup filled with coins to the cobblestone road. As the beggar knelt to pick them up, Killian easily knocked him to the ground with a well-placed kick. Of course, he intended for that to just be the beginning of a cathartic beating, but things turned out quite differently.

Rather than whimpering, the man giggled.

Killian's smile faded. He knew that face, but it no longer belonged to the cowardly shadow of a man he had first met. No, this creature had empty, amphibian eyes and a vicious, confident air.

The Present

"Rumplestiltskin," Emma filled in, shivering slightly.

The Past

"... or, as others know me," the crocodile bared his teeth, "the Dark One."

A chill ran through Killian. Rumours of a Dark One had circulated throughout the land for years, but Killian had never been entirely sure that he believed them, even when he'd met broken men that told him stories of friends being turned to beetles and squashed underfoot. Yet, he could not refute the evidence before his eyes. This creature oozed power and evil. Killian forced himself to not recoil like his crew had. If he was going to die, something that seemed entirely possible considering that this all-powerful creature most certainly had a huge grudge against him, he intended to do so honourably.

For a while, Rumplestiltskin strutted around, clearly enjoying the tipped power balance. It occurred to Killian, then, that his life was just a terrible cycle of power gained and power lost. Perhaps it was poetic justice for him to die now, when he finally felt himself to be invincible.

Finally, the creature got to his point. "How's Milah?"

Killian could have sworn that his heart stuttered at her name. He didn't even need to think of his response. As much as he would prefer to live, he would also prefer not to drag Milah down with him if he died; he had a feeling that Rumplestiltskin would not take the news that Milah had left him of her own accord well. After feigning ignorance, he made up a quick lie.

"She's dead. Died a long time ago." Killian made a point to look in the creature's eyes, partially to make it look like he was telling the truth and partially to prove that he wasn't afraid.

Rumplestiltskin then challenged him to a duel. Killian attempted to draw his sword, but Rumplestiltskin insisted on dueling at dawn, likely to torture Killian with the knowledge of his imminent death.

Of course, Rumplestiltskin didn't know that the extra time was actually the best present Killian could have received; he could say goodbye to Milah.

As he walked back to his ship, his crew trailed behind, whispering worriedly. It would have been nice to think that they were concerned for him, but Killian wasn't delusional. He knew that the threat Rumplestiltskin had made to gut his crew if he didn't show up for the duel had shaken them. And, if he did duel Rumplestiltskin, they knew he would die, which would mean the uncertainty of a new captain. Killian had led some of them since he was twenty-one, and he was good at it. Whatever happened, their future was uncertain.

Killian was no fool. He knew that he could fight against Rumplestiltskin, but, if the rumours were true and Rumplestiltskin did possess a horrible dark magic, he doubted that he would be allowed to live. It all came down to honour. If Killian fought and won, would Rumplestiltskin let him live? Or would he use his magic to kill Killian anyway? The man he had known before was a coward, and cowards knew no honour. As hard as he tried to think of a way out of it, Killian couldn't help feeling the sinking dread that came along with the realization that he was doomed. He would still fight, of course. Perhaps he could catch Rumplestiltskin unawares and stab him before he could use his magic...

"Captain?"

He whirled around, eyes flashing. "What?"

Mullins, the man who had spoken, looked to the other men for support, but all of them were avoiding his eyes. Cowards, Killian thought to himself.

"Are you... um... planning to..." he licked his lips nervously, "...run?"

For a moment, Killian saw red. He briefly considered about a dozen different ways to make the crewmen around him suffer and die.

"Do I look like a coward, Mullins?" He asked softly, advancing.

The men retreated, just like they had with the crocodile. Of course, it was right of them to fear their captain. Still, Killian couldn't help but feel a small sense of discomfort at the thought of him being similar in any way to Rumplestiltskin. The thought made him rethink his decision to cut Mullins apart piece by piece.

"No," he said coolly. "Of course not."

The sigh of relief from his men was audible.

"Now, I'm sure that I don't need to say this, but Milah will not hear of any of this. Understood?"

The men nodded quickly, and Killian turned back around.

No one said a word for the rest of the journey back to the ship. Killian didn't even look at them once they reached the deck, instead hurrying down to the brig.

Owen was sitting with his knees pulled against his chest, but he leapt to his feet the second he saw Killian. From his pale face and trembling lips, Killian had the feeling that he was expecting a death sentence. Still, he stood tall, ready to accept his fate. Killian eyed him with satisfaction; he would make a good captain.

He unlocked the door and then his friend's manacles, which fell to the floor with a heavy thunk. "Well, Mallory, congratulations; you've been promoted."

Lifting his eyes to Owen's, Killian saw that he was eyeing his captain warily. He probably thought that he'd lost his mind.

"The Dark One may kill me tonight - if he is indeed immortal - and the ship needs a good captain, treacherous or not." Killian smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

For a moment, Owen just continued staring at him. Then his mouth started soundlessly opening and closing like a fish. That suited Killian fine.

He held up a hand with a scowl on a his face. "I don't want any pity or apologies, understood? If you dare to say anything of the sort, I'll toss you back in the brig."

Owen was shaking his head, his eyes wet. "You can't die, Killian."

Killian rolled his eyes; anyone could die. Still, he was touched. Rather than trying to strangle him for locking him up, Owen was concerned about him. Either he was an incredible actor, or Killian had been wrong to automatically assume his friend a traitor. Neither apologizing nor thanking him would come easily to him, though, so Killian searched around for something else to say.

"You smell, Mallory."

It was the first thing that came to his mind, and he flinched internally the second it was out of his mouth.

Owen's lips quirked. "I've been in here a while."

Their eyes locked, and both men started laughing.

Milah was sleeping when Killian came back to his cabin, curled around Kraken and cuddling him like a teddy bear. The dog was brave to endure her thrashing and kicking, Killian had to admit.

He knelt beside her and brushed a long curl out of her face before trailing gentle kisses across her skin.

She moaned slightly, eyes fluttering open to fixate on his face. He loved the way she looked when she woke up, her eyes hazy and her skin flushed. To him, she looked like a porcelain doll, too perfect to be real. Not even Milah could do this image justice, as talented of an artist as she was.

"You were right, love," Killian murmured.

"Of course I was," she said, her voice broken up by the remnants of sleep. "What in particular was I right about this time?"

"Owen."

Milah sat up, pulling up the nightdress sleeve that had slid down her alabaster shoulder. "You let him go?"

"Aye."

With a wicked grin, Milah nodded. "Good. I've been losing my mind." She grabbed his shirt collar and dragged his face down to hers for a kiss. When she pulled away, Killian followed her, kissing her with a passion that made his entire body tingle as Milah responded in kind. The dog stirred, finally awake, and padded out of the room. Clever dog, Killian thought once again.

"Mmm," Milah hummed into his mouth, a smile pulling at her lips. "I see you've missed me too-"

Killian cut her off again with his lips.

Some time later, they lay in a sweaty tangle under the blankets, the rhythm of their breaths falling into a perfect duet.

Tenderly, Killian traced her face with his left hand, marvelling at the perfect shape of her face and the smoothness of her skin. She cupped his cheek in response, her velvet thumb petting his cheek. "What is it?" She murmured, grey eyes searching.

He smiled, pulling her hand into his and kissing each knuckle. "I love you."

"I know," she said, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

For a moment he just looked at her. Then, he smoothed out her brow with his thumb. "I want to remember you like this forever."

She propped herself up on an elbow, her hair falling over her breasts. "Sweaty and spent?"

In spite of her light tone, Killian could see the confusion on her face. He and Milah had a loving relationship, but it was also one that had aged enough that it no longer required long declarations of love.

He paused. It was hard to explain. He wanted to remember her at ease, completely undone at his hands. He wanted to remember the exact shape of every part of her, that one freckle on her breast, the fall of the moon on her night-black hair and star-silver eyes: everything, really.

"Mine," he said, finally.

He lay awake after Milah fell asleep, watching her and thinking.

The Present

Thinking about what? Emma wondered. Having never awaited her imminent death before, Emma couldn't imagine. The closest she had come was in Regina's prison recently, and, even then, Emma hadn't allowed herself to accept death as an option; instead, she'd focused on an escape.

For a moment, she allowed herself to think about it. She supposed she'd think about her parents. Most of all, she'd think about Henry. She'd worry about what would happen to her family after she was gone: the impact that her death would have on them. Perhaps she would dwell on her regrets and let them consume her. Maybe she would even let herself give in to fear.

"Do you believe anything comes after death?"

He glanced at her, eyes sad. "I'm not sure, love. All I know is that my mum promised on her deathbed to 'send a little bird' to sing to me, and the bird never came."

The Past

Killian left an hour before dawn, dressing as silently as he could. As he walked to meet his death, he found something surprising; he wasn't afraid. Instead, he felt tired, and not because he'd stayed up the whole night. The weight of life had been increasing exponentially ever since he was a child. Now, it was almost unbearable. He felt as though yet another piece of him had shattered during his latest bout in prison, and he wasn't sure that he could get it back. Perhaps it was actually better that he died now, particularly in such an honourable way, before his heart grew too hard. It would be painful, he was certain, but he'd suffered pain before. And he would save Milah.

Of course, fighting was in his nature. He didn't intend to submit to his fate easily. Still, if death was in the cards for him, he realized that he would be alright with that.

"O fare thee well, my little turtle dove,

And fare thee well for a-while;

But though I go I'll surely come again,

If I go ten thousand mile, my dear,

If I go ten thousand mile."*

The song died on his lips right before he reached the place for the duel. A bell was tolling. He steeled himself to die.

Only, he didn't.

He fought hard, in spite of his imminent doom. Rumplestiltskin did try to draw it out, as Killian suspected. He had his hand in his chest, pulling out his heart-

The Present

"Why does everyone here love doing that so much?!" Emma said.

Killian grinned.

The Past

At first, Killian thought he was hallucinating from the pain.

"Stop!"

It was only when Rumplestiltskin said her name too that Killian realized - with a heart that would have sunk had it not been halfway out of his chest - that she was actually there. Rumplestiltskin released him, perhaps more due to shock than anything else. Killian's eyes flickered to the woman he loved, beautiful and powerful, her face a mask of shock and horror.

"Milah, you have to run!" Killian said, even though he knew that she never would. He also knew that running wouldn't save her if Rumplestiltskin had other plans for her, but perhaps Killian could provoke him and give her time to run-

"No. I'm not leaving without you."

The Present

"Bloody, stubborn woman," Killian said thickly.

Emma nodded. Part of her wanted to tell him to stop; she knew that revisiting this would be painful, and maybe even a bad idea since they were on their way to see the very man who was the villain in this story. Still, she couldn't quite suppress her morbid curiosity.

The Past

It was only when Milah begged her former husband to not hurt him that Killian became aware of the sword point hovering above his ribs. Milah hurried to explain the situation, while Rumplestiltskin shoved his sword into Killian whenever she said something he didn't like.

As she finished, the tension between the three of them was palpable. They seemed to be hovering in some sort of stasis, and there was no way that it could end happily. However, Killian wished it would end soon; the sword in his side was shooting hot waves of pain throughout his body. He could feel the blade rubbing against his bone, causing shivers to course through his body, which only made the pain more intense. He just wanted Milah to get away. How on earth had this gone so wrong?

"...you've come to save the life of your true love, the pirate." Killian's hearing kicked back in just in time to hear Rumplestiltskin's scornful words.

The Present

Emma felt a slight twinge in her chest at the words "true love". That only served to reinforce the idea that she definitely had feelings for Hook. If she felt this terrible at the thought of someone else being his true love... not that she wanted to be his true love, because that was too damn terrifying to even consider... Oh, God.

The Past

When Milah pulled out a red hat and started talking about magic beans, Killian really thought that he was losing his mind. However, Rumplestiltskin actually seemed interested.

"The magic bean in exchange for our lives."

A jolt, this time not from pain, went through Killian. For the first time that day, he suddenly felt something extremely liberating: hope. He stupidly thought that they would make it out alive.

Milah carefully helped Killian to his feet, letting him lean on her to walk.

"I'm going to kill you," she whispered to him as they walked. "How dare you get into this situation and not tell me a bloody thing?"

"I didn't want to worry you-"

She scowled. "Because finding your dead body wouldn't have worried me?"

"-and I didn't want you to get hurt," he panted.

"Trouble in paradise?" Rumplestiltskin's voice taunted from behind them.

Milah grit her teeth. Lowering her voice even more, she explained how she'd run into the man with the magic bean when she'd followed Killian. It turned out that she hadn't been sleeping because she knew something was wrong with him ("how bloody stupid do you think I am?"). Originally, she'd brought backup, but she'd sent them back with their captive.

"You're brilliant- ah!" He gasped when she accidentally jostled him.

Her expression softened, and she walked much more carefully from then on.

The sun had risen by the time they reached the ship, and the sky was deceptively blue for something so dark as a murder to occur. Killian felt a sense of uneasiness as the crocodile circled around Milah. Quickly, her eyes flicked to Killian's to exchange a look, gauging his thoughts while allowing only him to see her worry. Killian's own worry was only broken by a flicker of pride when Milah tossed the magic bean that Rumplestiltskin's leathery fingers had reached for over to him. They had pulled that trick hundreds of times before; their motions fell into an easy synchronicity. Milah's coolness in the face of a mad ex-husband was incredible, and Killian felt his already plentiful admiration for her increase. She was truly a pirate now, Killian realized, if she could pull a trick like that and keep outwardly calm in a difficult situation.

For one beautiful, brief moment, it looked as though Rumplestiltskin would let them live: "I can see that you're truly in love."

Killian felt numb with relief as Milah walked back towards him, slowly distancing herself from Rumplestiltskin. Then, Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth once again, and everything went to pieces.

The Present

"Quite literally," Killian added, drily. "The dark one always did have a flair for the dramatic."

The Past

Ropes flew and planks buckled as Rumplestiltskin went on a rant about Milah leaving Bae.

The Present

Quite ironic, Emma mused, considering that Rumplestiltskin had abandoned Neal himself. She wondered if he had been directing his anger at himself towards Milah. She supposed that it was much simpler to be angry at someone else than to be anger at oneself. At this thought, she felt a brief twinge of guilt, glancing at the man beside her.

The Past

In the end, the thing that sealed Milah's fate was the simple fact that she could never detach the image of her cowardly husband from the creature before her. Rumplestiltskin was no longer the snivelling coward that she had known and despised. Yes, he was a snivelling coward, but he was a powerful one with a taste for vengeance.

Killian could feel things spiralling out of his control the longer Rumpelstiltskin and Milah spoke.

"And why were you so miserable?"

Milah practically spat, her face twisted in rage. "Because I never loved you."

Later, Killian would replay Milah's death over and over again in his mind. Somehow, he always found himself pausing here. Was there a chance that she would have survived, had Milah not given in to her anger? If she had bitten her tongue for once, rather than allowing years of hatred and resentment to bubble over?

Sometimes, Killian hated her for it. She'd goaded the dark one. What had she expected to happen?

In the end, he always forgave her. It was her fire and passion that had caused Killian to fall in love with Milah in the first place. Being brave and reckless went with that. Even if it led to her death, it wouldn't be fair of Killian to resent her for it: not when it made her who she was.

Rumplestiltskin's hand plunged into Milah's chest. Time seemed to slow. Killian lunged towards them, only to find himself bound to the mast by magic. In that moment and those that followed, everything happened with a new clarity. Killian was hyperaware of his gasping breaths, the jarring rope against his flesh, the sneer on Rumplestiltskins face, and most of all, Milah's look of shock. Her face soon morphed into a mask of horrified disgust as she laid eyes on her heart, held in the hand of her former husband.

"No!"

Killian's stomach dropped as he realized what was about to happen. His own heart was pounding as if trying to beat for Milah too, now that her heart was gone. Finally finding a way out of his bondage, Killian lunged forward to catch Milah as she fell. In the future, he would also blame himself for not lunging at Rumplestiltskin instead. However, his vision had narrowed. The world could end, and all he would see would be Milah, collapsing to the ground like a flower felled by a strong wind. Before he knew it, she was in his arms, their faces only inches apart. Milah's hand came up to Killian's face, as it had done so many times in the past. It felt so warm and gentle. He could smell her familiar scent, feel the heat radiating off of her body. She felt so solid and alive. Killian's mind simultaneously felt like it was full of fog and as sharp as a needle. How was it possible that someone like this, someone who was his whole word, could be gone?

Defiant to the last, or perhaps simply devoted, Milah stared into his eyes. Killian detected no fear in her gaze. No, she was looking at him with absolute focus. It wasn't quite determination or defeat. No, she was looking at him as though he was her entire world too.

"I love you."

She gasped, drawing in the last breath that would pass through her lips. Then, she went limp in Killian's arms.

The Present

"I never said it back."

His voice was rough, and tears glittered in his eyes. For once, he wasn't trying to hide his emotion. Instead, he was looking at Emma almost desperately.

"I couldn't, I... I didn't have time, I just..."

She felt a pang in her heart. She was no stranger to regret, but Killian had lived with his for two hundred years.

Somehow, she wanted to make it go away.

Emma placed a gentle hand on his arm. "She knew, Killian."

He swallowed visibly, before nodding. "Aye."

Wiping at his eyes angrily, he took a moment to collect himself. "Bloody tale isn't even over yet," he said thickly.

"You don't have to tell me," Emma said, even though she wanted to hear the rest.

He shook his head, staring at her intently. Then he said the last thing that she expected.

"I want to."

A peculiar warmth spread through her at his words. "Okay," was all she said, but she knew he understood.

The Past

For a moment, all Killian could do was stare. His hand hovered over her cheek, brushing her hair slightly. He was afraid to touch her skin; he didn't want to feel it grow cold. Besides, he didn't need confirmation that she was dead; he had seen enough people die. More than anything, he knew it in his heart; it felt as though it had blown away, as dust on the wind, just the same as hers. It had happened so quickly; did it really only take a second to destroy two lives?

Then, perhaps just to keep the pain in his heart from tearing him apart, he turned to the man behind the destruction of the one piece of happiness he had left.

"You may be more powerful now, demon, but you're no less a coward!" He spat out the words, not caring if they would provoke the beast. He would be happy to follow Milah into death, preferably taking down Rumplestiltskin with him.

"I'll have what I came for now."

Nothing in the world would entice him to help this creature in any way. His left hand clenched tightly. "You'll have to kill me first."

"I'm afraid that's not in the cards for you, sonny boy," the creature said.

Before Killian could react, he was staring at his hand, still clenched in a fist, sitting on the deck of his ship. A cry came from his lips, as he doubled over in pain, vision blurring as Rumplestiltskin picked up his hand and tucked it away in his clothes. His stomach rolled worse than it had in any storm upon the seas; the pain was indescribable. He almost didn't notice the sword at his throat.

He found himself looking up into the reptilian, cold eyes of the dark one. "I want you alive, because I want you to suffer like I did."

Then, the creature giggled.

The second he turned around, Killian took his chance. His hand found a hook, formerly attached to the ropes that had held him captive as he watched Milah's heart be ripped out of her chest. He plunged it into the dark one's chest, only to hear the damned creature giggle once again, unharmed.

Killian stared as the realization hit: Rumplestiltskin was immortal. Immortal! So much for honour... Challenging him to a duel when the odds were entirely on his side only showed Killian once and for all that this man - if he could be called that - was the worst scum of the land.

Rumplestiltskin's next taunt only made Killian hate him more. "Killing me is going to take a lot more than that, dearie."

"Even demons can be killed. I will find a way." It was only as he made this vow that Killian realized the fire that was burning in his heart, waiting to consume the man in front of him, one that would drive his actions for the next two centuries.

The Present

Emma swore. She was beginning to understand Killian's former lust for vengeance. Hell, this almost made her want to kill Rumplestiltskin herself. She didn't think that she'd ever heard of such vindictive cruelty before in her life.

She didn't think that she'd be able to say any of that, though; it would just be redundant. Two hundred years was more than enough time for Killian to think about all of this, and he clearly had.

"So he got the bean?" She asked instead.

To her surprise, Killian shook his head. "Pirate, remember? I believe you're familiar with my skill at sleight of hand tricks."

That was one way of putting it, Emma thought, still slightly miffed at the memory of Killian stealing the magic bean right when Storybrooke needed it the most. But, then, a grin slowly spread across her face. "Wow. I bet he was angry."

Killian grinned too. "Aye, I'm certain he was."

*The Little Turtle Dove, English Trad.