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Time stops as the curse hits her.
Running up main street, as fast as his three-hundred-year-old legs would carry him, he sees her in silhouette against the headlights of Cruella’s car. Her power emanating off of her in waves. She is gorgeous & terrifying, & for a moment his pounding heart calms. He’s never seen her fail. She will beat these witches just as she has beaten every other villain to make their way to this town. He slows his pace, the edges of his lips begin to curl up into a smile.
Then the blast of green light comes from Maleficent’s staff.
“Swan!” he screams. But his voice sounds as if it is coming from the end of a long tunnel.
She turns to face him as her body begins to crumple to the pavement. A look of surprise & fear in her eyes. He feels frozen in time & space as he watches her eyelids flicker shut & her knees give out. Watching her fall for what feels like hours.
But he is running again. Throwing himself toward the earth to catch her. He manages to break most of her fall with his body, looking up just in time to see Maleficent’s smile as she & Cruella disappear into a swirl of purple smoke. The street is silent. A mist of rain begins to fall. Still lit by the car’s headlights, he curls his fingers into the lapel of her red leather jacket. He remembers this jacket from their adventure back in time. Remembers her wearing it on their drive from New York to Storybrooke, how he would try not to stare at her as she drove so overcome with the feeling of being near her again.
“Please Swan, please.” He begs. His voice barely a whisper. His throat cracking under the weight of the plea.
It’s happening again, he thinks, another one is dying in my arms. He feels as if he is being torn limb from limb. He won’t survive this. He won’t be able to come back from this loss. He wants to yell for help, to call for someone. But his voice is gone. He knows he is crying, & it makes him feel like a fool. But still the tears come.
He picks her up, sliding his arms around her back & behind her knees, carrying her down main street toward her parent’s loft. Whatever tears he had are gone now, replaced by a hollow blackness. So this is what death feels like, he thinks. He can’t look at her. Just stares straight ahead into the night.
Outside the loft’s door he allows himself one glance. She looks almost peaceful. He kicks the door with his foot, hearing the movements of the occupants inside. It is the Prince who opens the door, his face blanching almost immediately.
“What happened?”
“That bloody dragon.” Is all he can manage to reply. He doesn’t trust his voice. The Prince pulls the door open wide & he carries her inside. At the sight of him, with her daughter in his arms, Snow drops her tea cup, the porcelain shattering on the worn kitchen floor.
“Oh my God, Emma!” She cries, her hands flying to cover her mouth in astonishment.
“Put her on the sofa.” The Prince commands, tossing pillows & blankets out of the way. He complies, settling her among the cushions & brushing the loose strands of her hair from her face. He falls to his knees beside her, marveling at the fact that he is still breathing, that his body can withstand this much pain.
Snow & Charming are beside her immediately, holding each other & crying. Snow turns her head away & sobs into the Prince’s shoulder. He wants to offer them words of comfort, but he has none. He has nothing. Not anymore.
So he just stares. Stares at her beautiful face & golden hair. Stares at the dimple in her chin, the eyelashes fanned over her cheeks. He feels the tears start to burn behind his eyes again, & he lets them. He reaches up & takes her hand in his, her fingers cool to the touch, & he lets his head fall to rest on her shoulder. For the first time in a very long time he openly cries. The tears do nothing to fill the emptiness within him, but he cannot hold them back.
“Wait,” Charming’s voice cracks, “she’s still breathing.”
His head snaps up, his eyes focusing on the faint rise & fall of her chest. She’s breathing. He almost doesn’t believe it. He pushes himself up enough to place his ear directly above her lips. He waits for what feels like an eternity, every nerve in his body alert & filled with terror.
Then he feels it, the soft slip of her breath against his skin. He falls back to his knees, the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding pushing from his lungs.
“Aye. She’s breathing.”
“It’s a sleeping curse,” Snow’s voice is almost a whisper. She kneels beside him, caressing Emma’s face, “of course.” A noise that sounds very like a hysterical laugh bubbles from Snow’s throat.
“Killian, kiss her.” She turns to him, so much faith in her eyes.
The room suddenly feels as if it’s shrinking, the walls pressing down on him from every direction. The blood rushes from his head & he feels faint. He jumps back, pressing himself against the fall wall hoping to do anything to keep himself standing. Snow & Charming turn to him, their gazes uncertain & filled with surprise.
“I never thought I’d say this, but kiss her dammit!” The Prince almost shouts.
He’s panicking. His chest feels as though it’s collapsing in on itself. They don’t know. They don’t know that he tried this once before & it didn’t work. They don’t know that as much as he loves their daughter it is not enough. He is not enough.
“It won’t work.” He breathes. Not wanting to say the words aloud. Not wanting to admit that although he has known since he showed up at her door in New York that she is his true love, he has also known since that infernal city that he is not hers. The pain of that moment, when he tried & failed, when he discovered he would never be to her what she is to him, comes rushing back to him. He feels his heart snap in half again & wonders if it is possible for a heart to be broken enough that it ceases to feel.
“We should call for the lad, they’ve broken a curse before.” He offers. Trying, trying with everything he has not to crumble under the weight of her parent’s stares.
“Killian,” Snow takes a step toward him. He would back away but he is already pressed against the wall, he feels like a caged animal, afraid like a small child. Somehow in this moment he remembers when Liam told him their father was never coming back. That he had been left behind. Please don’t make me say it, he begs in his mind. “do you love her?” Her eyes, so like Emma’s, burn into his very soul.
The absurdity of the question evokes a bitter laugh which tastes sour in his mouth.
“Of course I love her. With everything that I am. But it’s not enough.” He has to get out of here. He doesn’t know how to leave her, laid out on that sofa like a corpse. But he can’t be here, he can’t breathe here. He has never been enough, he always knew this, but he thought it was better to live a while in the sun, to feel some of its warmth on his skin even if he knew one day it would be gone forever. It was a stupid thing for him to believe. It was stupid to think he’d be able to walk away without breaking. He tries to inch toward the door. Panic burning at his skin. Humiliation choking his throat.
Snow is directly in front of him now. She rests a hand on his shoulder, he looks everywhere but in her eyes.
“If you love her, kiss her.” It sounds so simple the way she says it. Sounds like it is the easiest thing in the world.
“I would trade anything, anything, to bring her back. I would trade my very life. But it won’t work…& I can’t…” His voice breaks, he trails off, unable to complete the sentence. Unable to admit that when this fails he’s not sure he’ll be able to continue on.
“Why not?” Charming interjects from Emma’s side. He raises his eyes over Snow’s shoulder to see the Prince, with his arms crossed over his chest stubbornly. It almost makes him laugh, how like her father Emma sometimes is.
There’s nowhere to hide & he knows it. Snow still holds him, her hand firmly on his shoulder, the Prince waiting expectantly for an answer.
“I tried once, in New York. It didn’t work.” He hangs his head. So now they know. He may love their daughter, but she does not love him. He didn’t think it was possible for him to feel more alone, but here now, staring at the parents of the woman he loves beyond all reason, admitting he is not enough, he feels more alone than he has in three hundred years. He feels again like that little boy whose father left him for better things.
“In New York?” Charming repeats. He can’t say it again, doesn’t have the strength, so he remains silent. Then Snow’s hand flies from his shoulder to her mouth as she covers a giggle. His eyes snap up to her, ready to defend himself. Ready to lash out.
“Oh Killian, true love’s kiss doesn’t work on memory spells.” She smiles at him sadly.
“What?” He must have heard incorrectly. His mind is playing tricks on him. He wants an answer so badly he is hallucinating it.
“For true love’s kiss to work the other person has to remember that they are in love with you.” The Prince raises his eyebrows, then gestures to Emma, still peacefully laid across the sofa.
Snow steps to the side, he eyes her warily, certain this must be some kind of trick. “Kiss her.” she whispers, eyes full of encouragement.
He stares at Snow for a moment. Uncertain. It can’t be true can it? It can’t be true that she loves him back. He knows she feels for him. Knows she cares for him. But could it be possible that after so many years in the darkness he can still be loved? He wants it to be true. He wants it like he as never wanted anything.
He takes an uneasy step toward her prone form, sucking in a shaky breath. He glances back at her mother, who nods at him encouragingly. In a moment he is by her side, kneeling above her running his fingers through the strands of hair framing her face. He leans over her, his lips hovering centimeters above hers;
“I love you Emma Swan, please come back to me.”
& he kisses her. He kisses her & says a prayer to every god he hasn’t believed in for a century to bring her back. At first he feels nothing, her lips are cool & unmoving. Then something shifts & he is filled with sunlight. Like the brightest of days at sea, where there is nothing but ocean, & blue skies, & the bright white sun of summer. He is knocked back a moment, falling to rest on his heels. He exhales blinking, as if he has been staring into the light for too long, his vision blotchy around the edges. She lies perfectly still & he feels the panic & fear begin to rise back in his throat.
Then her eyes flutter open, her lips part, & she pulls in a deep breath exhaling with a sigh. He can hear Snow behind him, crying again but this time happy tears. His own heart is filled with light, & joy, & he can’t help the grin that plasters itself across his face. She turns her head to face him, matching his smile. God, that smile makes him feel warm in places he never thought he’d feel warmth again.
“Hey.” she whispers. & he leaps for her arms, kissing her again, pulling her up from the sofa & into his lap.
“Ok. Ok.” Charming coughs from behind them.
He pulls his lips from hers, resting their foreheads together, & starts to laugh even as tears slip from his eyes. She pulls him into an embrace, & as her lips pause beside his ear he can feel her smile,
“I knew it was you.”