Work Text:
Emma doesn't think, doesn't hesitate; she runs on autopilot until she's got Hook on firm ground. Well. Or the next best thing.
The impact is fierce, and for a moment, she just holds on, keeps a vice-like grip around the man she has lost and now found again, but as much as she'd just like to cling to him until the end of time, she can feel him trembling in her arms, and they do need to get out of there, after all. So she reluctantly, carefully, pulls back to look at him, and what she sees is tearing at her heart: he's never looked so battered before.
Hook, seeing the concern in her eyes, tries to speak, wants to reassure her, but he isn't able to produce any discernible sounds and quickly aborts the attempt when the pain in his ribs flares up rather viciously at the motion; he stares at her with his one good eye and no small amount of despair. You shouldn't be here, Swan, is what his expression says. Risking everything just for me.
“I had to come,” Emma whispers while she removes the chains. “I couldn't leave you here, Killian.”
After that, she makes to poof them to the house, but it only works at the second try: Regina has warned her that this place drains the energy out of all the living beings, meaning those who aren't actually dead, and Emma can feel it. She starts to shake from the effort, and the landing isn't smooth either, eliciting a shocked gasp from Hook which makes her feel guilty for causing him further pain.
While she tries to get him to his feet, Emma thinks back to the time he was in the hospital after the incident with Belle; back then, he had been in pain as well and rather helpless, cuffed to the bed and injured as he was, but he had still found it in him to taunt her. Right now however, his face is rigid with pain and his breath comes in shallow little pants. He barely gets his legs to work, but somehow, Emma gets him to him feet and up the stairs. Both of them are relieved once she has eased him down on the mattress, where he sits as upright as he can manage while Emma gently peels his jacket off of him: “I'm so sorry,” she murmurs, “my magic... it doesn't work so well here.”
“'s 'kay,” Hook breathes, though he doesn't look okay and is unable to stop himself from flinching every time a movement causes him further agony. Emma, who's had severely bruised ribs once, is aware of how awful he must feel. And there's more, after all, there are all kinds of wounds hidden underneath his clothes; she hasn't even seen the full extent of it. His shirt is clinging to his skin in places due to the dried blood; she'll have to soak the cloth before removing it.
Yet Hook, as she gets up in order to go and get some hot water, grips her arm with his hand, effectively stopping her from getting up. He barely looks at her, but he pulls her closer with what little strength he has left, and she understands. Right now, he needs something else. So she wraps her arms around him, carefully and tenderly, regardless of the blood and the dirt, and holds him as tightly as she dares. Hook sags against her, his breathing still audibly laborious, but after a while, the trembling in his body seems to lessen. Maybe it isn't all from fatigue, maybe he was cold too, or just... Emma closes her eyes. He just needs her, she realizes, needs to comprehend that she is with him now, that he is safe. He probably didn't expect he'd ever be safe again.
She forbids herself the other thought which immediately invades her mind right then: that they still haven't found a way to leave the underworld, so the term 'safe' is relative. But Emma refuses to be discouraged by that now that she's found Killian, and she isn't afraid of Hades either. If anything, she's got some specific ideas about payback for what he did to her pirate.
Later, once Hook and she have reluctantly let go of one another, after she has helped him out of his clothes and cared for his injuries as well as possible for the time being, Emma crawls onto the mattress with him, and he immediately seeks her proximity again, inches into her embrace with measured if stubbornly determined movements, and she gladly complies, closes her arms around him and just loves the way he presses his face against her skin, inhales her scent. He's precious, this guy, and she's grateful that she has gotten to know this softer side of him, knows his susceptibilities. And how to deal with them.
“I love you, Killian,” she murmurs into his hair, pulling the covers up around them, building a cocoon which is warm and safe.
“I love you too, Swan,” he rasps, his voice a mere whisper.
They fall asleep not long after that.
When Emma wakes up some indeterminate time later, it's already dark outside. Killian is still fast asleep; he is pale, his cheeks are flushed, and his skin is warm and clammy to the touch. Running a fever, probably, which doesn't come as a surprise, considering that his injuries have been left untreated for some time. But Emma feels well rested now. She sits up and runs her hand over Hook's black eye, feeling the familiar surge of energy which comes with using her magic. She uses it on his ribs next and, with every bit of concentration she has, manages to heal most of his wounds before she almost collapses, shaking and feeling drained again.
The fact that Hook didn't even wake up from her ministrations tells her how depleted he is. With a sigh, she resumes her previous position, snuggling up with her pirate so tightly that she can feel his heartbeat, steady and reassuring. No matter the circumstances: right now, they are at peace.
On the following morning, Emma heals the rest of Hook's injuries. What she can't mend are the dark, bruise-like shadows underneath his eyes and how pale he is; it is obvious that he's still weary, that the night's rest wasn't nearly enough to rid him of his bone-deep exhaustion, couldn't undo all that he had to endure during the past days.
Emma gently runs the back of her fingers along his temple, caresses his cheek, and he leans into her touch like a starving man. Which he probably actually is.
As if on cue, she can hear the front door; she has texted her mom and Henry on the previous evening, letting them know that she's got Hook out. So now the cavalry is here to provide breakfast and whatever reinforcements are needed.
Hook however wants to wash up first; he begins to sway as soon as he gets to his feet, and Emma doesn't even bother to ask him when he last ate. “How about I run you a bath?” she asks, and Hook nods, relieved; right now, standing up for too long is not very appealing.
Once the tub is full, Emma helps him into it, and he leans back with a sigh of relief, immediately closing his eyes again; his body is still aching from all that it's gone through.
“Swan,” he then says, and Emma crouches down next to him: “Yes?”
Hook opens his eyes and regards her: “I'm sorry,” he replies softly.
“For what?”
“For everything that happened while I was... the Dark One. And because I didn't even try to resist the darkness.”
Emma's eyes wander over his tired, beloved features: “We're past that by now, Killian.”
“No, love... I wasn't nearly as strong as you. I deserved what I got.”
Emma shakes her head, never taking her eyes off him: “That's not true. It'd be different if it didn't bother you now. But it does, because the darkness- that's not you anymore. It touched the part of you which you've left behind, that's why-”
“Don't you see-” Hook interrupts her, despair in his eyes: “Perhaps I haven't left it behind at all! It'll always be a part of me, everything I did. I'm not worthy of someone like you, Swan.” He breaks off, his voice almost giving out at the last few words.
Emma can feel herself tearing up: “Killian,” she says, reaching over the rim of the tub in order to cup his cheek with her hand, to keep his eyes on her: “You have changed, I'm certain. I wouldn't have come here- we wouldn't have come here if we didn't know the real you by now. We believe in you, but you have to do the same.”
Hook still looks doubtful, and it almost breaks Emma's heart. This man has gone through so much, he doesn't deserve any more suffering.
Gently, she strokes his skin with her thumb: “I thought I'd go mad after I had to... after you died,” she says in a low voice. “I can't live without you anymore, Killian, and I can't see a future without you, so if I may be so selfish: please do it for me if you can't do it for yourself.”
Hook briefly closes his eyes and swallows: “Are you sure you can forgive me, love?”
Her expression is tender: “I already have.”
Hook remains silent but turns his face into her hand for a moment, savouring the comfort she provides.
“Thank you, Swan,” he then murmurs, his breath ghosting over Emma's skin.
“Always,” she replies, and it's true; she can feel it with every fiber of her being. She won't let go of this love, no matter what.
So the next thing will be to find a way out of here; it'll be easier to help Hook deal with this once they're back home, in Storybrooke.
The End