Alone aboard the ship, Emma loses track of the time, judging only by the location of the sun in the clear summer sky, tainted only with the pale grey smoke from far-away cannons. The dock around her remains empty, lacking any sort of moment whatsoever. Everyone who is not actively battling the enemy beyond the town lines seems to be hiding away from the destruction of war, and she does not blame them.
After a while, she sits down on the deck behind the helm, the place that reminds her the most of Killian while still allowing herself to watch over the dock. The day is long, the hours passing by slowly. As the cover of darkness begins, she lays down, looking up at the stars as they begin to appear. She may have dozed off once or twice - she honestly doesn't remember - but she returns to consciousness when she hears someone call her name, someone far off, coming from the direction of the town. With the lack of light in the town, she is unable to make out any details beyond their existence, though they obviously know who she is; but as they approach her, she feels her heart rise to her throat, her stomach sink towards the beams of the deck. The first face she recognizes is August's, but that is not what worries her; for in his arms, his bare chest covered in dirt and blood, is Killian, her Killian, and in that moment, she decides to do anything she can to save him.
She rushes out to the dock, where August sets Killian's body down on the worn planks. Emma still feels lightheaded, like her whole life is falling apart in front of her - well, the little bit of life she still has control of after all of the recent events. She falls to her knees next to him as August fills her in: "The battle was almost over for the night. He had just decided to turn in for the night, return to the ship. And then we took some heavy fire, and he took a couple shots right in a row. But the worst part is that I knew I had to bring him to you, but I was too afraid to carry him with all the fighting going on, and now if something happens to him because it's too late, it's all my fault and - "
"August," she whispers, just loud enough for him to hear, and peels her eyes away from Killian's mangled body for just long enough to turn her worried green eyes up to him. "You did the right thing."
And then she goes back to her work, running her hands across his bare chest, eyes closed, trying to assess the damage. It's by far the worst thing she's ever had to heal, but it doesn't have much to be compared with: the hardest heals she's ever had at the castle were papercuts, skinned knees - anything more serious than that was taken to the healers, not the princess. But there is something inside her, a warmth in her chest, that somehow seems to give her the courage she needs.
She feels the warmth spread through her whole body, up her arms and out her fingertips. It feels familiar, like the sun radiating down on a hot but windy day, or the first dip in a warm, freshly-drawn bath after a cold winter day; yet completely new, a warmth unlike anything she has ever experienced before. And then, this warmth turns into a subtle white light, emulating from her fingertips and onto his chest.
For a few long, terrifying moments, nothing seems to be happening. The warmth disappears, and she fears she may have lost it, but then she notices something: the blood, that had been pooled around the wound, starts to disappear, seemingly going back where it belongs; and then, ever so slowly, his skin begins to fuse back together. As she feels the warmth return, his healing quickens, and within just a few seconds - though they seem like eternity - all that is left is a scar across his chest.
She does not take his hands off of him, even after the scar all but disappears, because she notices something extremely important: his chest may be healed, but he's still not breathing.
Emma can't think of a next move at first. She is exhausted, and for the first time notices the sweat beading on her forehead. What would Snow White do?, she asks herself, as she tends to do in moments when she is out of luck. Her parents' True Love is something that people revolve whole stories around -
And then she knows what she has to do. Her hands still pressed against his chest, her whole body quaking in fear, she leans down and presses her lips against hers, testing the only thing she has ever believed to bring a person back from death: True Love's Kiss.
Nothing happens. No breath, no movement, no spasm; and she falls onto his chest, bawling - and then she feels him move, the rise and fall of his chest under her head.
The warmth returns, but it's different this time: instead of just her, it comes from both of their bodies, together, but somehow it feels better to her than the beautiful warmth that helped her heal her Killian. Lost in the moment, she kisses him again, this time not so gently. Feeling him move against her, breathing, responding - living - is the greatest thing she has ever felt, something that she never wants to lose.
"Killian. Oh, Killian," she whispers to him, running her hands over him, only half-believing that he's actually back in her arms. "I can't - I love you."
"Aye, Swan, I love you."
She leans down and and kisses him again, this time not so gently. She can sense the surprise in him, in the way that he responds to his lips against hers - but not as surprised as she is when he stops suddenly, his eyes fixed not on her, but on what's behind her: standing above them, silent but mouth agape, is August.