"I'll be alright," Killian said with a soft smile to Snow, trying to conceal any hint of pain in his voice.
He could not be any further from the truth as he was limping, cradling his arm to his side, breathing raggedly and slow as his bruised and cracked ribs made it difficult. What struck them the most was how the usually vibrant blue of his eyes remained dull and lifeless, granted they could only see one of them as Killian's left eye appeared swollen shut. Dried blood on his nose bridge, shiner on his cheek, and split bottom lip only denoted a fraction of the damage Hades inflicted. The naturally brown highlights in his long dark tufts of hair had vanished, replaced with an oozing red sheen, some strands caked in hairspray consistency and some damp in what they hoped wasn't fresh blood from blunt force trauma. The heavy leather jacket adorning his shoulders looked disheveled, threads soaked in red, along with his black skinny jeans having gaping holes in them, long horizontal slashes cutting through them as if a beast mauled him.
If Emma had been too late to save Killian from being dropped into the River of Lost Souls, there wouldn't be anything left of him to look at.
Eventually, upon being brought back to life by Zeus in the aftermath of Hades being defeated, Killian and Emma eased back into their lives in Storybrooke, trying to put their past behind them. However, having been dead in the Underworld at the behest of Hades as his defiant pet and Cerberus's chew toy, Killian was never quite the same.
At first, Emma thought he needed time to readjust. Killian had missed out on a lot and being revived didn't make for the easiest transition past the initial joy.
"Hey," Emma said, sitting next to him as she brought over some hot cocoa topped with whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon. "I've been worried with how quiet you've been since you came home. Do you want to talk about it?"
"What's there to talk about, love?" Killian asked, beaming brightly, not quite reaching his eyes as he leaned and kissed her cheek. The faint whiff of rum dancing across his lips only enhanced her concern.
"I understand wanting to stay at home and sticking to our routine, but clearly something is bothering you. How about some cocoa and maybe a stroll outside instead?"
"I think I'll stick with the caffeine and catch up on some stuff on the picture box until you come home," Killian replied as he took another sip of his coffee, clearly laced with liquor.
She bit her tongue. It was the weekend, and even if it wasn't, Emma couldn't ignore the pain that Killian was facing. Nothing could be more important than making sure he was okay and letting him know that somebody cared.
"Killian, it's me." She put her hand on his, her eyes burning with tears as she spoke. "It's just us here. Remember what you told me before? We don't need walls up around each other."
His eyes softened, a flicker of emotions crossing his mind as she noticed him clenching his jaw.
"I'll tell you about it someday, just not right now." Killian used the crook of his hook to move her hand off of his. "Please," he uttered as she opened her mouth to protest, his voice broken and strained.
"Okay." Emma sighed. "I'm always here for you." Trying to sound hopeful as she got up, she offered, "Let me know if you want any eggs though and I'll make it to your liking."
He nodded and turned on the tv.
Later that night, Emma awoke to whimpers from Killian at her bedside. Sweat drenched his forehead as he started thrashing in his sleep. Even though it wasn't the most uncommon occurrence, she knew it mainly happened when he was triggered and stressed from something painful on his mind. Regret took hold, knowing her questioning earlier brought the nightmare upon him, but worry rapidly seized the reins as she wanted to comfort him. Emma gently shook him, stirring him from his nightmare. While that usually did the trick, Killian finding comfort in her presence and sometimes sharing with her the nightmare of feeling like he was a kid abandoned on a ship again, this time was different.
Killian woke up screaming. He grabbed Emma's arm immediately, clinging to her in disbelief. His eyes wide as saucers, panic stricken and hyperventilating, not entirely there.
"You can't be here. Not again, not this time. I won't let it happen. Hades, if he finds you." Killian paused, gasping. "I can't," he said rapidly, letting go of her to clutch his chest, his hook unknowingly making scratches on his skin. He tried getting off the bed, away from her.
"Killian, wait!" Emma grabbed his hook, causing him to stop. "You're home. We're safe. Don't you see?"
"Lies!" He pulled away from her, standing up and looking around in a daze. Killian yelled out into the dark empty space and ceiling, "I'm not falling for this again, Hades! You hear me?"
His fury waned into care and worry as there was no response, the usual maniacal taunt or illusion disenchantment. He went back to Emma, sadness and longing etched across his face. Killian gently combed the side of her blonde tresses that shone in the moonlight with his hook before giving her a kiss on the top of her head.
"Emma, Emma," Killian cried, calling her name as if it were a mantra for good luck. "I wish you were real. We- I need you to hide," Killian warned, barely audible in his whisper. His eyes glistened with tears as his voice cracked. "I can't lose you again."
"Breathe, Killian, breathe," Emma said in hushed tones, stroking his hair and putting his palm on her chest. "We don't need to hide. I'm right here. Hades is gone."
His breathing slowed as he felt her warm hands and steady heartbeat, but the fear continued trembling in his voice. "You don't know that," he answered, breaking away. "I can't. Pain. Screams. Hide."
Killian ran into the closet, staring out into the darkness, Emma's silhouette on the bed with her arm outstretched for him, the wooden frame sitting in his sights. Shaping himself into a fetal position, arms holding his legs, and rocking softly back and forth, he mumbled to himself words Emma couldn't make out. Sat on the carpeted enclosure, Killian felt certain he was back in the open stone crypt cell, a place where Hades could pull him from at any time, but as long as he didn't try to escape, he'd be safe from Cerberus's clutches and ferocious maw. The only saving grace he took in was the lack of pain and discomfort his body had, his hook still in place.
The former pirate took in his surroundings, unsure of whether to trust his senses or to hold down the fort. The leather jackets and tees above him dangled, making him feel even smaller in the space. When his hand brushed against the flooring, the fuzz of the carpet felt so soft. Notes of vanilla and coconut, Emma's shampoo floated in the air. He could smell the wood varnish of the bed, still distinct in the new furniture. Moonlight illuminated the bedside lamp and bits and bobbles of decorations Emma had curated around the room. Everything felt so real, but it wasn't the first time that Hades had casted false securities in his sleep, on the off chance that he had passed out from the pain, or wanted to play a cruel joke by breaking down Killian's defenses to see true reactions.
Killian winced, attempting to cover his ears, bracing himself for the moment to hear Emma's ear piercing screams of pain and wracked sobbing. The pit in his stomach swallowed him whole. Even though he knew that it was the same scenario that played out most times, the chance of Emma coming to the Underworld to save him only to get captured and tortured by Hades continued harboring the seed of doubt in his mind. His love being in pain and him being at fault for her arrival, unable to soothe her cries and stop Hades, made him feel powerless. It was a thousand times worse than the other tricks that Hades attempted with illusions of others from his past to taunt and torment him. They didn't exist in the present at least, but Emma deserved a future, was his future. Hiding only helped delay the inevitable.
Much to his chagrin, Emma followed him across the bedroom, blanket in tow. She sat behind him and dressed the blanket around, wrapping it like a giant parka with the two of them inside. Emma hugged Killian and rubbed small circles on his shoulders.
"No, not here," he ushered.
"You're hiding. I thought it'd be safer with you," Emma rebutted. "I'll keep watch while you get some sleep."
Killian gritted his teeth, barely able to keep his paranoia at bay and didn't have the energy to argue with her. Even a small comfort held out in the long run, he thought, allowing himself to rest his head against her, trying to focus on calming himself and taking in what little he had of her.
The following morning, Emma rubbed her eyes. The cloud poofy blanket seemed gigantic on the ground and a bed pillow had been placed under her head. The smell of coffee and butter wafted in from downstairs. She heard the clattering of the pan on the stove and got the bedroom resituated. Somehow, she must have fallen asleep after assuring herself that Killian had dozed off, breathing stabilized.
"Emma, about last night," he trailed off, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck as he saw her come down the stairs. "I'm sorry. I never wanted you to see me like that. I don't know what came over me. If you want me on the couch, I'd understand."
He had dark circles, puffy still from crying during the night. Despite that, Killian looked less pale than before. Emma ran up and hugged him, knocking the air out of his chest, then quickly broke away before he had the chance to react.
"Don't you dare apologize. As long as you're okay, that's all that matters."
Killian laughed in a bittersweet way, the first genuine one she'd heard in the past few weeks.
"Aye, I'll try to keep that in mind."
He plopped the pancake off the pan onto a plate as Emma helped him turn off the stove. The matching mugs of coffee warmed the morning as they sat down at the dining table. Emma pooled maple syrup onto hers while Killian cut slices of butter for them both.
The night terrors continued every once in a while, decreasing in frequency as Killian shared brief and digestible bits of the torture he endured in the Underworld, specifically being stuck in Hades's palace.
"Does it still hurt?" she asked.
Reopening her eyes as they sat on the rug in front of the hearth, the glow from her palms dissipated.
"My magic surged across every path. I sensed some discomfort but there isn't a trace of any wound or injury," Emma explained. "I could try again," she offered, putting her palms back out, readying herself to look deeper.
"Thanks, but no need to bother," Killian replied rapidly, pulling his black long sleeved blouse back over his shoulders. "I'm fine. Must have slept wrong," he added in a lighthearted tone.
Although he wasn't faced towards her, the light dancing across the shadows of his cheek made Emma solemn. Killian's teeth gritted in frustration as he stared aimlessly into the flames, hazily angry at himself, overwhelming disappointment etched across his face. He couldn't stand the way she saw him, so vulnerable and confused. It wasn't her fault. Although Emma had healed him with her light magic, the damage on his soul marked his psyche.
Emma laid a hand on his face, barely taking in his flinch as she wiped away stray tears. "Are you sure?"
"Mm. Could you grab the salve tin from my sea chest, please? It's probably my brace causing the discomfort," he said, holding the side of his left arm.
"Alright," she said resigned as she saw Killian's shoulders relax with her answer, despite not quite believing him as he rarely needed the homemade ointment. There wasn't anything strenuous during the day like being thrown by a villain or moving furniture around that should have caused the leather brace to rub his arm raw. Emma walked up the stairs to retrieve the salve anyways.
Left to his thoughts and hearing her footsteps elevate far enough, Killian groaned. He could feel the back of his left shoulder sear in bright heat and slightly itch from the memory of being branded with a pomegranate symbol, denoting that some part of him belonged to Hades. Other times, old lashings from Captain Silver felt like they were reopening, the thin stripes crisscrossed ringing in small flames as they did when Hades went over them with his switch. What might have been less than a week in Storybrooke had been months of torture, ramping up as Hades's fury soared with each soul that departed the Underworld, especially after the heroes had arrived to rescue Killian. At times, Hades was cruel and unusual in his play. Tired of hearing Killian trying to hold back his screams, the unforgiving god slowly peeled away at the pirate's scabs, whether they were fully healed or capable of bleeding again.
"What a capable one you are, taking pain so well but unable to die," he recalled Hades taunting with a practiced smile, pulling on his chains. "Well, you're already dead, so we'll have more time together."
Killian hissed, tightly clenching his fist as his eyes burned with resentment.
Time passed and things shifted to accommodate Killian's unexplained fears. They put felt pads under the chair legs to soften the sound. A smaller blanket was moved inside the bedroom closet in case Killian got in a panic again. Nightlights illuminated the house, adding a warm glow of comfort in contrast to the icy blue fires Killian got used to looking at in the Underworld. Emma tried to keep his rum to a few times a week rather than the daily he had initially, limiting the social drinking as a hobby until Killian felt he could trust himself to not blackout being conscious. They made a routine of having coffee and breakfast together, helping him to eat at least one meal per day. Every week, Killian and Emma went to Granny's Diner to have some form of safe outside interaction without having to socialize with others unless they chose to. Emma took him along every time they visited her parents for a meal or to help babysit her baby brother Leo. Snow made sure they had leftovers to take home. With David always cracking jokes or having some guy thing for Killian to accompany him with, Killian gained some spring back in his step.
Some things they couldn't predict as triggers until they occurred. After his hook had accidentally scraped against the granite benches at Storybrooke Park, Killian filed down his hook, dulling the point to a soft nub rather than the pointed tip he used to maintain. He never wanted to be reminded of the sound or feeling of scraping names on gravestones with his hook, let alone scratch anything or hurt anyone with the metal aid. He'd had enough people use the sharp hook against him, carving gashes on his skin.
Eventually, a couple months passed and Killian got more comfortable in his own skin, deciding to do some things on his own like fishing or light reading. He stopped flinching when someone got their hand too close to him and he returned to throwing sarcastic quips at people from the sidelines.
Henry, being the Author, came up to him after accidentally writing and reading the storybook chapter version of his time in the Underworld.
"I didn't mean to. I woke up and it appeared," Henry explained as they sat on the barrels aboard the Jolly. He took out the folded up storybook page from his coat to give to Killian.
Killian pushed it away with a sympathetic look at Henry, not wanting to relive or recall what the text could convey.
"Henry, it's okay. What happened happened," he said, spinning the ornate ring on his thumb. "How much of my captivity was there? Did you catch my best jests?" Killian asked, cracking a joke to lighten the blow.
Henry returned a small smile before repocketing the piece and nervously fumbling with his hands.
"More than enough to put the pieces together and have an explanation for your odd behavior."
"Odd? Guess I wasn't good at keeping things hidden," Killian replied, looking out into the waves as seagulls squawked.
"You were, but I didn't hear anyone in town mention it, so your secret's safe," Henry acknowledged. "However, we're family. You don't have to talk if you don't want to, but I think you were brave holding out for the long haul. If it helps, I liked the bit where you distracted Cerberus for Megara and tripped Hades."
"Thanks, lad. The pathetic notion of a god needed to have his fiery head put out somehow."
"How are you doing? Mom says you needed time away," Henry said, taking in the sea breeze.
"I did, but I've been doing better. Say, do you still want some sailing lessons while we're here? I think the old girl could use a trip around the harbor."
"Really?!" Henry's eyes lit up.
"Yeah, go on up to the wheel and I'll be right up after giving these legs and sails a stretch," Killian responded, feeling the joints in his knees pop as he bent forwards.