Since someone asked … yes, the story is almost over. Two more chapters after this, and then the epilogue.

Chapter 18

Emma was sitting at the window in the drawing room upstairs, looking out into the darkness, her eyes never wavering from the alley that lead to the house as she waited for Killian to come back from dealing with Neal. Outwardly she seemed to be calm, but on the inside she was reeling. Everything that happened over the last hours collided in her mind with the secrets she had decided to still keep from her husband.

She'd had an hour to think about everything while she was hauled up with Henry in his chamber. He'd ordered her inside the house to keep Henry safe while she'd only wanted to fall into his arms and never let him go again. He'd known what he was doing by appealing to her motherly instincts though. First and foremost Henry had to be safe. Everything else had to stay back.

So she'd heeded her husband's plea and went to fetch Henry, bringing him to his chamber and distracting him by letting him pull her into an imaginative world where he was a knight riding on the horse Killian had given him, following the tracks of a dragon he was supposed to slay to rescue the princess. She'd listened to her son spinning his tale while her mind had been occupied by other things. Worry about Killian's wound, fear about who the shooter might be – she had her suspicion and she was fairly certain Killian had to – while still carrying the burden of her secrets on her shoulders.

Beside all the anxiety, she'd had to fight against the nausea that had been rolling over her in waves, and in the end she'd had to excuse herself, giving Henry into the care of the governess for a few minutes while she'd hastened to their own bedchamber to empty her stomach into the chamber pot there.

When she'd come back her mind had been in less of a frenzy, and she could think much clearer. She'd let herself think about the consequences if her suspicion turned out to be correct, and even though a shiver had wrecked her body when she'd thought about Neal and all the pain she'd had to endure, there was still a part of her who couldn't live with the fact that he might die through their hands. Emma wanted nothing more than to be rid of Neal and Milah, but playing a part in their demises was something she wasn't willing to put on Killian or her own's shoulders.

So she'd gone downstairs in search of her husband, and she'd been on the last flight when the door had opened and Robin had rushed in, the expression on his face telling her that they'd found the culprit. He hadn't acknowledged her though, he'd disappeared instantly in the library and Emma had hastened after him, stopping dead in her tracks when she'd heard Robin utter Neal's name.

Emma still thought it had been the right decision to ask Killian to spare Neal's life. Granted it'd lift one weight of her shoulders if he was gone, but she just couldn't let it happen. No matter how horrible he'd been to her she didn't want him dead, and Killian had respected her wish.

She almost told him she loved him then, but she hadn't wanted to say the words for the first time out loud when he was halfway out of the door. Though now her mind was conjuring horrible scenarios. Neal could shoot him again and not miss this time, Killian could fall from his horse and break his neck, the wound could be worse than he'd let on, it could get infected, he could …

Emma groaned and buried her face in her hands, pictures of Killian dying on a dirty barroom floor flickering over her closed eyelids, making her stomach churn and her heart ache. All she could do now was worry though, and calling herself a coward for not telling Killian sooner that she loved him.

When Emma opened her eyes again she could see a carriage coming down the alley, and she was out of the door in a heartbeat, rushing down the stairs, a smile pulling her lips up when she hurried towards the entrance. But then the door opened before she could reach it and her heart plummeted into her stomach as he saw Robin and three of their servants carry in a makeshift stretcher.

For a brief moment she hoped the person lying on the stretcher wasn't Killian, hoped he'd step into the entry hall every moment with a smile on his face. The hope shattered into a million pieces when the men stepped closer and he could see her husband lying on the stretcher.

Utterly pale. Completely lifeless.

Killian was still breathing. He wasn't dead.

Emma was repeating the words in her head over and over again as she followed the men up the stairs. It was the first thing Robin said when he saw her, but her mind was still jumping in a multitude of directions as she watched the men put the stretcher down beside the bed with utmost care before they reached for Killian's arms and legs and lifted him onto it.

She should have told him. Now she might never get the chance. He'd never know how much she loved him. He'd never know that she was pregnant with his child.

Emma pressed one hand against her stomach as a wave of nausea swept over her. She didn't have the time to get sick now, and apparently her will was stronger than her body just this once because the urge to throw up receded.

She looked at the doctor they'd fortunately already brought with them, and he assured her that after the first examination of the patient which he already concluded at the tavern he could tell that it wasn't anything life threatening.

She exhaled the breath she was holding then, her legs almost giving out under her. But if she let the doctor see any weakness right now he'd probably send her to another chamber to lie down, and she didn't want to get into an argument with the doctor about that. So she drew on her remaining strength and straightened her shoulders, stepping beside the bed opposite of the doctor so that she wouldn't get in his way but could still observe everything he was doing.

When the doctor looked up she already expected him to shush her away, but he only smiled and when back to his examination of Killian without saying a word, and Emma relaxed slightly as she watched the doctor pull up Killian's shirt and loosen the bandage around his torso so that he could have a look at the wound underneath. An angry red gash was covering Killian's ribs and Emma almost whimpered, chastising herself for not checking the wound herself and making sure he didn't leave the house.

"I see they've cleaned the wound," the doctor mumbled, apparently not needing an answer as he continued almost immediately, "It looks all right. A little red around the edges, but that's a sign of the natural healing process."

"So there is no infection?" Emma asked, balling her hands into fists as she waited for the doctor's answer.

"No, there are no signs of it yet. But the wound needs to be kept clean." This time her legs truly gave out under her and she sank onto the mattress, her stomach making itself known again as she forced herself to listen to the rest of the doctor's instructions. "I'm recommending absolute bed rest for His Grace. From what Baron Backhurst told me I figure His Grace lost consciousness due to exhaustion. He needs a lot of sleep and good food in the next days to help the wound heal without any complications."

"I'll make sure he'll get it. Thank you, doctor."

It was a small miracle that she managed to settle down her stomach once again, and she closed her eyes for a moment after the doctor had left the room. She'd almost fallen asleep despite the noise the servants were making scurrying around the chamber, but a tentative knock at the door brought her back and she opened her eyes slowly to see her husband's friend standing in the doorway.

She ushered him inside and Robin stepped closer, looking down at Killian for a moment before asking softly, "How is he?"

"The doctor said there is no infection," Emma replied, new worry knotting her stomach as she looked at Killian's still pale face. "Yet."

"He'll be fine," Robin assured her, sending a crooked smile her way. "He didn't listen to the demands of his body for rest and food over the last weeks as he was trying to secure that neither Neal nor Milah could bring any harm to you or Henry."

"So it's my fault after all that he collapsed?"

"No," Robin told her firmly, shaking his head. "Killian has one stubborn head on his shoulders. If he sets his mind on something, nothing and no one can stop him. Not even you, milady."

Robin's remark calmed her down a little and she sent him a shaky smile, grateful that Killian had such a good friend. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being such a good friend. For standing by his side the whole time."

"You're welcome."

It was the middle of the night when the last servant left their bedchamber and Emma just managed to undress and put her nightshift on before she collapsed back onto the bed beside her husband. She didn't want to disturb his rest by scooting closer so she only stretched out her hand to touch his upper arm since she needed the contact before she gave in and let sleep claim her.

When Emma woke up a few hours later she felt as if she'd only slept a few minutes, and this time she wasn't able to keep the nausea in check. She reached the chamber pot just in time, though there wasn't much in her stomach to come up anyway; she'd hardly eaten anything the day before.

After washing her face with a damp washcloth and rinsing out her mouth with water she stepped beside the bed again. Killian looked still too pale, dark shadows under his eyes and his cheeks were hollowed, and she wondered if her husband was just that good in hiding any discomfort or if she'd just been too blind to see it.

While she got dressed she pondered on whether or not she'd played a significant role in Killian's breakdown until her musings got interrupted when the door opened and Henry peeked in.

"Is Killy all right, Mommy?"

"He will be," Emma said with more conviction then she felt.

"Can I read him a story?"

Emma already wanted to say no, but then she saw the worry in her son's eyes and realized that Henry needed to be close to Killian as much as she did.

"Sure," she replied, assuming that Killian was probably too exhausted to notice anything going on around him. After all the whole commotion around his person yesterday didn't wake him, so Henry would probably neither. "But be careful not to jostle him."

Henry clambered up on the bed very carefully, scooting closer to Killian until he almost touched him before he opened his book and started to tell Killian a story he was making up by only looking at the pictures.

Unbidden tears welled up in her eyes as she watched her son and her husband, the two persons who meant so much to her, and she decided then and there that she would tell Killian as soon as he woke up. She wouldn't take a chance anymore, she wouldn't wait any longer. But first she needed to get a light breakfast into her stomach and while Henry was rambling on she stepped out for a moment to ask the maid to bring up a tray for her.

She was almost finished with her breakfast when Henry decided his story was over and he joined her at the table, grabbing a slice of bread with honey on it for himself, chewing happily, and he barely managed to swallow the last bite before asking eagerly, "Can I give Killy my present now, so he can see it when he wakes up?"

Emma had completely forgotten about Killian's birthday until Henry mentioned it, and she swallowed down the regret about not being able to spend the day like she'd imagined it before telling Henry to fetch the present.

He'd found a stone on one of his excursions with David; on first sight it was a bland gray stone, but if you turned it around you could see this perfect imprint of a skeleton of a fish. Emma had looked at it with wonder when Henry had shown it to her, and his enthusiastic announcement that it was his birthday present for Killian had definitely choked her up.

She didn't know that he'd taken it with him back to the country, he must have smuggled it into their luggage without her noticing it. She definitely didn't think of taking her present for Killian with them though. It was still back in London, hidden under her drawers so that he wouldn't find it. He'd mentioned the book once to her, so she'd ordered a copy of Don Quixote for his birthday.

When Henry stepped back into the room Emma had to hide her smile as he struggled with carrying the stone. His small hands were barely able to close around it, his eyes shining with pride as he heaved it up on the bed table. After Emma assured him that she would tell Killian it was his present the moment he woke up, Henry turned around to leave. He was already half way out of the door as he apparently remembered something. He swirled around and ran back to the bed, stood up on his tiptoes and leaned forward to press a kiss against Killian's cheek.

"Get well soon, Killy," he whispered, patting Killian's cheek with his small hand before rocking back on his feet, and a moment later he was out the door.

Emma was still smiling as she leaned over Killian to check on him; he was still sleeping deeply and Emma decided that she would let him sleep a while longer before waking him up so that he could eat something.

Since she still felt a little unsteady on her feet she asked a maid to fetch her a book from the library, and after the maid had brought it to her she settled down beside Killian again, intending to pass the time by reading one of his favorite stories. Frankenstein.

It was way too gory for her liking but Killian loved it and she remembered how he'd teased her about her squeamishness when it came to certain parts of the story, and the lopsided smirk he'd sent her way every time she'd shivered beside him.

So she leaned back against the headrest and opened the book on the first page, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she started to read.