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When she first meets him, she burns.
Like little flames licking over her skin, spreading and engulfing her.
“Killian Jones,” he says, and a shiver runs down her spine. Only, it isn’t negative. It feels warm and… distinctive.
It is a long time before it all comes together.
She soon finds that the familiar flickering of spark is present whenever she’s near him.
They don’t have to be touching, but the effect is increased tenfold when they do.
And she can’t understand it. She won’t.
It feels like ice and fire are meeting when he clasps his hand to hers, offering it as a leap of faith and trust.
She feels a deep regret bury itself in her chest when she walks away from him.
It goes on like this. His presence invades her life in one way or the other, and against her better judgement, she knows there is a connection – a bond – forming between them that she doesn’t know how to control. And she’s not entirely sure she wants to control it.
But when he turns the Jolly Roger around, when he makes the choice to do the right thing, she knows things have changed.
He’s not quite the man he was when they were going up that beanstalk. And she feels a familiar affection for him that startles her with its intensity.
When he looks her in the eyes, straight on and honest, it only takes a few moments before she drags her own away.
She’s the Savior. But there are still things that frighten her.
In Neverland, he’s everywhere. Even when he isn’t around, she feels him.
And she doesn’t know how things got to this point, when she started to feel like he was meant to be in her life.
Even more, when the beautifully crafted words on the inside of her forearm started making sense.
It’s you.
She’d never understood it. Her mother’s had been simple. I will always find you was so romantic. Of course her father’s had been exactly the same. It was perfect. They were, after all, Snow White and Prince Charming – destined to meet, destined to fall in love.
Her life has never been that way. She’s used to it being hard, and more often than not, things just don’t work out the way you want them to.
Still. She remembers being young, in a new home with the latest family. One she was sure would reject her as soon as they realized she was too much work. The bitterness of longing and wondering when those words would come to life. When she would be chosen, or if that was even possible.
She remembers waiting. The words stayed as a reminder of something she wouldn’t have.
Now, she looks at Hook – at Killian – and wonders why those same words keep running through her mind.
They’re not connected. Why would they be?
But soon she’s kissing him and it’s all so fast, but she’ll remember the feel of his lips against hers and as you wish and God, how real it had felt. She’ll remind herself that it was a one time thing. Temporary, like everything else. An easy, and ultimately meaningless, attraction.
And still, it doesn’t end up sounding anything like the truth.
“What’s your story, then?” She really is curious.
He shrugs. “I don’t have one. Just a pirate.”
Maybe she would’ve believed that, once.
They both know how to play the game – the flirting with the hint of something else underneath. This is different.
“You seem to know everything about me,” she says. An open book, he’d said. “But you’re a mystery.”
“Oh, I quite like it that way, love.”
She laughs, but it doesn’t go unnoticed that he dislikes her turning the tables on him.
“Do you really?” she asks, stepping closer to him until there’s only a small amount of space between them.
He swallows, glances at her lips, and she wonders if he’ll close the distance.
He doesn’t, and she’ll spend the rest of her time in Neverland wishing he had.
His confession is a raw, broken thing, his eyes full of trust and hope, and oh, she had not expected this.
He lays it all at her feet and she’s left speechless – all the broken pieces of herself, the ones she’d tried so hard to bury, unravel and make a new mosaic somewhere in her soul. She means something to him, and the thought leaves her feeling breathless and somehow free.
She remembers telling him that they understood each other.
She just hadn’t comprehended how well until now.
Maybe there’s something to be said for time traveling, because seeing her parents fall in love is something she’s pretty sure she won’t ever forget. When the tears spring to her eyes, she has a moment of mortification before Killian smiles softly and washes it all away.
And there it is, that traitorous affection for him fluttering all around her.
Affection seems a small word for it now, really, because she’s grown more than just fond of that playful smile and the sweet way he says Swan and love and when it really matters, Emma.
He never bothers to be guarded around her. He never tries to hide. His brand of openness is nothing less than beautiful, the kind where he will open his arms wide enough for her to collapse into and never think to pull away.
Somewhere along the line – she’s not sure how or when or why – his striking, keen eyes started making her feel accepted.
Loved, even.
One day, he will know how important that is to her.
He traded his ship for her to come home.
He says it with only a slight smile, a bit of self-deprecation coloring his words, and she loves him.
He followed her through a portal to another land without a second thought. He risked everything, all for her.
The Jolly Roger, she knows, was not just a ship. It wasn’t just a vessel he captained, or a fun hobby. That was his home, and maybe the only real one he ever knew. And he’d given it up for her to return to Storybrooke, to find her parents and her son.
To come back to him.
She can’t remember the last time she felt this way, or if she’s ever felt this way at all – like someone has put her first. Her wants and her needs are a priority for him, she realizes.
Everything seems just right in the world when she kisses him, slow and sure and sweet.
She pauses, forehead leaning gently against his, and the hopeful smile on his face is all she’s ever needed.
He evades her questions about Ursula, and she can tell it’s a sore spot for him. Another one of those times in his life he’s afraid to talk about.
It gnaws and gnaws at her, until she realizes that what he did or didn’t do is irrelevant. She knows the man he is now. The one that takes his heartache and pain and pushes forward – the one that chooses to be kind, brave, and selfless. She’s proud to have him by her side, and she wants him to know that.
She takes a moment to sit with him, to appreciate him. I’m gonna choose to see the best in you.
And she means it.
More than that, she sees an odd light dawn in his eyes and she tilts her head.
He sucks in a sharp breath, then looks down. “Bloody hell, I never thought-“
He can’t seem to finish the thought, so she gives him time before asking, “Killian?”
He looks up and offers her a smile, his eyes watery and disbelieving.
“I… wasn’t sure you’d ever say it to me,” he admits, and his voice shakes. “It never seemed real.”
He takes off his jacket and pulls up his left sleeve. Nine small words. His soul mark.
She can’t stop the grin that spreads across her face, and he steals a kiss from her that leaves her dizzy.
She finds herself looking up at him in admiration. She knows she’s being entirely too sappy, but she’s so… ecstatic. It makes her chest ache to think of how hard he’s trying to correct his past. And he did – Ursula is reunited with her father.
But soon enough, he looks terrified, talking about former villains losing their happy endings, and, well. She has to ask.
She’s really not prepared for the answer.
Not for the wrecked look in his eyes, like he’s been waiting his entire life to tell her this, or for way he says the words – so certain. He is always, always so certain of her, and she’s not sure that she’ll ever get used to that.
Don’t you know, Emma?
She can only hear his low, soothing voice and the maddeningly loud thumping of her heartbeat. She can’t wish for that, can’t dare to, it’s too-
It’s you.
And she swears with every piece of her that her heart – hopeful, fearful thing that it is – could pop right out of her chest. She could hand it to him and say it’s his, now.
But when she thinks about it, it has been for a while.
She almost wants to laugh. Here she is, finally with the guts to say it, and it’s right before she leaves him.
She doesn’t want to break him so completely like this, but she can’t bear the thought of him just not knowing.
He pleads with her and all she wants to do is run to him, bury her head in his chest and pray that all of it goes away.
But she can’t. He knows. He understands and always will.
So instead, she tries to memorize every little bit of his face.
I love you, I love you, I love you is all she can think as the darkness takes over.
Camelot is beyond lovely – it’s a dream.
Unsurprisingly, it has its own set of monsters. It’s too idyllic to trust. She knows a thing or two about that.
Still, she takes comfort in the warmth Killian always carries for her. He is always lighting her way.
He hands her the ring and closes her fingers around it.
She has to come home to him. To get rid of the voices all around her, to know that she’s still the Savior and her magic is light.
But his faith is infectious, so she grins at him and thinks that monsters are no match for Killian Jones.
She has to wake up, somehow.
This is all a nightmare, just a really terrifying nightmare she’s going to forget about in five minutes. She’ll cradle his face and tell him she’s so glad he’s still here, still alive, and it will all be fine.
But no matter what she does, she can’t make herself wake up.
Instead, he’s asking her to kill him.
And of course he’s telling her it’s okay. But it won’t ever, ever be.
This is her Killian. The one that wants to make things right.
It’s the last thing in the world she wants to do, but she has to honor his wishes this time.
Let him go, she tells herself.
Love him enough to let go.
And oh God, she does.
Before she can lose her courage, she sinks Excalibur into him and thinks that maybe he’s not the only one dying.
Everything is a haze, after that. He’s gone, truly gone, and the words haunt her with a finality she can’t face.
She does remember, for a long time after, holding him in her arms and wondering if there is enough love in the world to bring someone back to life. If it were possible, she’s sure his heart would be beating right now.
I’m a survivor, love. Did you forget? He would tease.
And then they’re dragging him away and no, no, no. They can’t do that. They can’t just take him away like that, she has to be with him just a little while longer. But his cold, cold hand is slipping from hers and it’s done. She vaguely remembers the violent stream of tears running down her face and her mother desperately trying to comfort her.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she wants to scream. They were soulmates. They were meant to be in each other’s lives.
Maybe he just wasn’t meant to stay.
It’s now or never, she thinks.
Yes, there are complications. But if there’s anything he’s taught her, it’s that there will always be complications.
She just wants to say it at least once without either of them in immediate danger. For this one thing to be simple. She still feels the sting of saying goodbye to him. He’d kissed her hand so gently, his haunted eyes staring up at her as she left – and that’s why this is so important.
She leads it up and sees the glint of excitement in his eyes, and she almost breaks out in a grin because he’s so damn earnest.
He won’t get his hopes up, and he won’t dare to pressure her. But this time, he doesn’t have to worry about it.
So she tells him those three simple, beautiful words. This time, blessedly, it doesn’t have any fear behind it. It’s just… the truth. It’s how she feels.
And that sense of clarity is more than she ever could have imagined for herself, but there it is.
He leans in immediately and lifts her up, and she feels giddy and breathless and thankful.
She realizes, as she kisses him on a lonely street in the quiet town of Storybrooke – he’s the only home she’ll ever need.