#mariakov81

  He felt the tears streaming down his face as she said it, as he reached for her, his hand on the back of her neck and he felt the chain there.  Killian remembered giving it to her as if it was a dream, something feverish and hazy from Before.  Her hand came over his as he followed the chain, his hand clasping the ring and her hand wrapped around his.

  I am here. With you. Always.

  The magic sparked again.  His forehead flushed with warmth from where it was pressed against Emma’s.

“I love you,” he said.  “I still love you.  Here, and now, and always.”

  --

  Emma didn’t know what to do when there was nothing to do .  She was a creature of action, of forward motion, and this--this sitting in a cemetery in the goddamn Underworld with the breath of life and the heartbeat which were apparently power and currency enough to draw every last wayward demon out of the woodwork to harvest both, oh--

  But then there was nothing but the feeling of his lips on hers.

The feeling .  Of Killian.

With her.

When he took her hand and he was here and he was whole and she saw herself reflected in his eyes and remembered how, even then, from the first, in Neverland, he’d been there for her and she’d doubted him and used him and hurt him over and over and--

That’s what Merlin had meant.

That was her legacy.

  But in this moment, here and now, there was Killian against her, I love you still hanging in the air between them like it had been Before, only she’s said it--she’s said it--and she meant it and she felt it, right down to the bottom of her beating heart.  Home and warmth and--

Emma pulled away.  This wasn’t her happy ending.  This wasn’t an ending .  This was a step on the path forward.  

Action.

With a sigh she reached into her waistband.  “I have something of yours,” she said, pulling out the metal hook.  “I--”  kept it , she didn’t say; used it to keep part of you with me , she didn’t say.  She didn’t have to.  “Hades, he--”

“He took it,” Killian said.  His arms came around her, solid and real and steady, and they stayed like that.  She didn’t know how long.

It didn’t matter, not in this world without time.

But eventually the feeling of absolute urgency resurfaced.

  Hurry up.

Hurry up .

  And Killian sensed it, too, because he pulled back and said, quietly, “Where is Liam?”  When the hook clicked back into place it echoed like a gunshot in the stillness.  He stood up and offered her his hand.  She took it, pulling herself to her feet.

  Emma shook her head.  “I think Hades sent him back to his cottage, you know, poofed him there to get him out of the way.  That’s what he said.”

“Forgive me if I’m not feeling charitably inclined toward the god of the Underworld, love,” Killian said.  He looked around.  “Liam’s not here, and he may be hurt.”

“There was no splash,” Emma said, and then, quickly, when Killian’s hand started to shake, added, “I mean, I don’t think it works like that.  I don’t think he can hurt Liam.”

Killian’s brow furrowed, but he was listening.

“Your brother died and came here.  The regular way, not like you or me,” she said.  Only, technically, Killian was dead.  His eyebrow went up and it was almost-- almost --like it used to be, just for a second.  A corner of her mouth turned up and she took in a deep breath.  “He took the ferry.  He didn’t sneak in or get snatched or whatever.  I don’t think Hades has the power to harm anyone who belongs down here.  I don’t think he gets to decide who goes where.”

“No,” Killian said.  He drew out the word as if it was much longer than two letters.  “I don’t suppose he does.”

“Is that why he wanted your magic so badly?”

“ Our magic, yeah.”  Emma nodded.  

It was still strange, to think of Killian with magic.  To think it and not to see in her head the image of him wielding it with rage and glee and aggression, to see him wielding it against her.

  Forward.

  “But also--I know it sounds crazy--but I think you’d know if Liam was being tortured somewhere.  You’d feel it.  Do you feel anything like that?”

Killian was silent for a long time and then he shook his head.  “No.  I don’t.  And I think you’re right, Swan.  I would feel it.”

“Good,” Emma said.  She squeezed his fingers.  Only--

She needed to know.  She knew , because she’d found him, but she needed to know .

 “Where were you?  When you got here?”

He looked away when he said, so quietly she almost couldn’t hear him, “The Elysian Plain.”

Emma could hear Henry’s voice in her head, his certainty as he explained, Elysium.  It’s the final resting place of the virtuous in the Underworld.  Her kid with The Heart of the Truest Believer and he’d been right, again.

“Henry was right,” Emma said.  “He was so sure that’s where you went.”

Killian blinked, and then smiled, turning back to face her.  “Was he, now.”

“He never stopped believing in you,” Emma said.

“He never stopped believing in you, either,” Killian said. 

  Emma sniffed.  “I’m sorry,” she said.

“I know.”

“I did this to you.  To us .”

“We both made our choices, Emma.”

“Yeah,” she said.

  Silence, heavy and awkward.

  “How long was I gone?”

“A couple of weeks,” Emma said, then:  “I think.  I’m not sure.  I was a little bit--”

He gave her fingers a squeeze.  

“Was it--?”  Emma wasn’t sure what to ask, or if she wanted to know, but she couldn’t stop herself.  “What was it like?  Before Hades--”

“I don’t think I was there very long,” Killian said.  “It was quiet there, I think.  I felt--complete.  As if I belonged.”

“Oh,” Emma said.

He took her hand, the hand he still held, and brought it up to his lips.  “I felt the way I do when I’m with you, love.”

Warmth danced on her fingers and Emma stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him on his cheek.  “Because you belong with me,” she said.  “And we belong back in Storybrooke.  With our family.  So let’s go see the witches first, okay?  If anyone can help us, they can.”

Forward motion.

Another step on the path.

  --

  “Attack!”

Cerberus bounded at them, wagging his entire hind quarters.  His front paws were on Emma’s shoulders as he put two of his heads to excellent use by licking both Killian’s and Emma’s cheeks.  

Emma nearly buckled under the weight.

“I said attack!”  Cruella’s voice was screeching from behind the counter before a second voice started to laugh out loud.

“Down!” Emma said to the dog as, to everyone’s surprise--including her own--the hellhound perked up his heads and dropped his paws back to the floor.

Killian whistled.  Cerberus responded by butting one of his heads into Killian’s hand so hard he stumbled backward, and Emma grinned.  “You’d better start the ear-scratching now, or you’ll find yourself buried under a ton of hellhound muscle, and really, there are more comfortable places to be pinned.”

  Killian laughed out loud and it was the first time she had heard him laugh since--

It had been a while.

For a moment it was as if none of it had happened, as if they were back in a time Before--before Darkness and sacrifice and swords, with just two of them.  He threw her an absolutely filthy look and started to pet Cerberus as if he hadn’t just reminded Emma of all they had lost.

She had lost.

Squandered.  Blown up.

Stabbed .

  But there was no time to dwell on it, not even in a world with no time.

She was fixing it.  They were fixing it.

There was action to be taken.

(Another step on the path.)

  “What is it that you want now?”  There was nothing but annoyance in Cruella’s voice as she arched a perfectly-plucked eyebrow in concert with her perfect red lips, a dance of disdain.

Emma jerked her head toward Killian.  “What do you think?”

The Blind Witch’s eyes narrowed as she stepped out from behind the counter.  “A way home.  For you and the owner of that manly voice you brought in with you.”  She shivered.  “You need our help .”

“We simply require assistance from those more knowledgeable than we are,” Killian said.  “I understand that you have very thorough knowledge of this realm and its tricks.”  The Blind Witch walked right up to him and snapped her fingers.  Cerberus retreated instantly through the kitchen door.

Emma snickered as Cruella rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be mad, kitten,” the Witch whispered.  “I have fresh children in the oven and he loves the smell of those.”  She winked at Emma.  “Gingerbread, I mean.  He loves gingerbread.”  Her unseeing eyes went back to Killian as she ran her hand down his front, touching places Emma found it absolutely unacceptable for her to touch and Killian was definitely not comfortable being touched, judging by the large step he took backward.  

But the Witch was unperturbed.  “Don’t flatter yourself, Captain,” she said.  “You’re not my type.”  Her face went slack with complete concentration and she stood motionless, her hand still on Killian’s chest until finally she licked her lips and nodded.

  “I think he might have enough juice left in his engine,” she said, walking back to Cruella.  “What do you think, kitten?  Shall we have a little fun, help them get out of here?”

“I’d rather put that one--” she pointed at Emma “--in unbreakable irons and suck the life out of her.  Literally .  Preferably in a long, drawn-out process.  Years if I can make it.”  She smiled, leaning into the Blind Witch’s ear.  “Decades, if possible.”

The Blind Witch shivered again.  “Tempting,” she agreed.  “It does sound marvelous.  But think about it--think about what it means if they leave .”

“No torture for me?”

“Think bigger .”  The Blind Witch cackled.  “Think of a different target.”

“We could just grab a smidgen of that one’s breath and heartbeat,” Cruella said slowly, dragging every vowel across hot coals.  “And then maybe--are you thinking--the Big Guy himself?”

The Blind Witch twirled one of the many frayed ends of her choker and said, “Yes, kitten.  I think we can kick him right out of his custom-made knickers.  Send him Below.  Way Below.”

  Emma shuddered but refused to let herself think about where Killian might have ended up.  As if he was answering her, he stepped closer, wrapping his arm around her waist.

Killian was here.

And they were going to get home.

Emma put her hand on his chest as they watched, waiting for the women to work out their fate.

The absence of his breath tickling her ear was painful and Emma made herself a promise:  when they got home-- when they got home--she was going to spend days just lying across his chest, listening to his heartbeat, letting his breath tickle her neck.

  “Staging a revolution does have a certain ring to it.  You should see me in a crown,” Cruella mused, then heaved a long-suffering sigh.  “Fine.”

The Blind Witch traced a finger across Cruella’s cheekbone and grinned.

“But all magic comes with a price.  And you ’ll be the one to pay it.  Savior.”  Cruella spat the last word, her finger pointed at Emma’s heart.  She spun on her heel and walked back to the counter.

“Hand me a jar, pet,” the Blind Witch whispered.  She reached a hand behind her and did not turn to look, her eyes never leaving Emma and Killian.  She unscrewed the cap and handed it to Emma.  “Be a dear and breathe into this?”

Emma blew into the jar and the Witch snatched it back and capped it.  

“My down payment.”

“We’re going to need to make a stop first,” Emma said, feeling Killian’s arm tighten around her waist.  “Where do you want to meet?”

“Here,” Cruella said.  Her smile was vicious.  “Hurry back, darlings.”

  --

  They were partway down the cottage walkway when Killian saw his brother.  The door opened and Liam stepped out, blinking, squinting into the red light as if he had been waiting for them and even still could not believe his eyes.  “Brother?”

“Liam!”

Killian dropped Emma’s hand and began sprinting.

Liam met him halfway.

They collided hard, nearly knocking each other off their feet, holding each other up by the force of the crushing bear hug.  Killian was crying and laughing as, for the first time in two centuries, he felt the comforting weight of his brother’s arms around him.

Finally Killian stepped back, scratching behind his right ear, and said, “Emma, love, come meet my brother.”

And both Emma and Liam laughed out loud.

“We’ve met,” Liam said drily.  “She hit me.”

“You deserved it,” Emma grumbled good-naturedly.

Watching his brother and Emma laugh Killian felt a lightness he had not in a long time.  “I’m sure he did,” Killian agreed.  “He usually does.”  Then he leaned conspiratorially toward Liam and whispered, “She held a knife to my neck.”

“You deserved that!” Emma said.

“She tied me to a tree,” Killian added.  “Left me to be eaten by an ogre.”

“Did you really?” Liam looked at Emma.

“No, I cut him down,” Emma said.  “He was fine.  Obviously.”

  The laughter cut off abruptly and Emma cursed.  “Shit,” she muttered.

Because nothing was fine.

They were in the Underworld.  She had killed him.

He had asked her to.

“Hey,” Killian said.  He pulled her hand into his and threaded their fingers together, rubbing her wrist with his thumb.  “Hey.”  She curled into his side and he moved his hand to her waist, kissing her against her temple.  Her hand went to his chest, to his cheek.  Where she touched him, he felt warmth.

Killian wasn’t sure who was comforting whom.

  Liam cleared his throat and put a hand on Killian’s shoulder.  “Don’t worry.  We worked it out.  Didn’t we, Emma?”

She straightened herself and said, “We did.”

“Come inside and have some tea, little brother,” Liam said.  “Tell me everything.”

“Younger brother.”  It was automatic, and Killian felt his smile resurface.  “And I’ve got about two hundred years on you now, mate.”

Liam’s eyes widened before he settled his face back into his habitual smirk.

“You’re still my little brother, Killian.  Now get in the house.”

  --

  They sat in Liam’s kitchen and had tea.  Tea .  

It felt so normal, listening to Liam and Killian talk.  It felt too normal, too finite, and it was taking too much time.

  Hurry up.

Hurry up .

  “--and then Emma started to yell at me.”

Emma’s attention snapped back to the conversation at the mention of her name, and saw both men look at her, with nearly identical wry grins.

“Aye,” Killian said.  “Though I quite fancy her, I do prefer it when she’s not yelling, even though a good Swan rant can be exhilarating.”

Liam laughed again, and it was too normal .

They should be using this time to say good-bye, not tell tales.

And yet--

  “You think it’s so charming, don’t you,” Emma said.

“No, love, I leave charming to other men, as you well know,” Killian said.  “But be honest, in Neverland--”

“Neverland?” Liam coughed.  “Neverland, Killian?  What could have possessed you to go back to that place after--?”

Emma saw it on his face, knew that Killian would never be able to explain to his brother the things that had happened, that he’d seen.  That he’d done .  Knew he wouldn’t want to, even if they had time.

Which they didn’t.

“Killian took me there to save my son Henry,” Emma said quietly.  “His--his stepson.”

“My--” Killian was very still.  Very still.  “Swan?”

“Killian’s stepson?”  Liam looked--he looked so proud .  Emma could give him this.  Could give them this.

“He helped me save Henry from Pan.  He died to protect Henry, and Henry loves him.  Killian takes him sailing and tells him stories about the great Captain Liam Jones.”  She smiled.  “You’re an uncle, Liam.  Congratulations.”

Killian’s hand around hers was so tight Emma almost couldn’t feel her fingertips.

  Liam’s face was serious when he said, “I can see you’ve chosen well, brother.”

“No,” Emma said, cutting Killian off before he could speak.  It stabbed through Emma’s gut like a sharp blade, like Excalibur itself, the idea that she was the prize.  When she was the reason they were down here, when this was her mess they were cleaning up.  “I’m the lucky one.  You need to know that.”  Her voice was gravel and dust.

  Liam watched her, watched both of them.  “I can see why you like her,” he said, and Emma was thrown back into the tunnel as the fury rose up in her again that Liam would use that word.

  He doesn’t like me.  He loves me.  He loves me more than I deserve.

And you?

More than I can stand, sometimes.  With everything I have, little as it is.

  This time, Killian cut her off.  “I don’t like her,” he said.  He was quiet and resolute, absolutely certain.  “I love her.”  He turned to Emma and leaned his head toward hers until their foreheads touched, until their noses touched, until his lips brushed hers.  “I love her more than I have ever loved anything or anyone.”

He kissed her and Emma wanted to weep as the warmth rushed through her because this, this , was the first time he kissed her and it felt like Before .

  When they finally pulled apart Emma felt her soul aching.  They had to get back.

They had to get back .

Back to a place where Killian’s heart was beating and his breath whispered across her skin and his lips weren’t cold.

They had to.

Now.

--

Watching them, watching the way they were together, Liam was unsurprised when Killian suddenly stood up and said, “We have to leave, Liam,” as if there had been an entire conversation happening and only this last part was said out loud.

Liam could almost believe he saw sparks of energy dance between them when they touched.  

He nodded and got up, following his brother’s movements.  His younger brother, now two hundred years older than he was.  “I’m coming with you,” he said.

Emma stiffened.  “I don’t think you--” 

“You can’t go where we’re going, brother,” Killian said.  “You know that.”

“I do know that.”  Liam rolled his eyes and reached for his jacket.  “But I do plan to go as far as this realm will let me.  I plan to spend every possible moment with my family before I face another eternity alone.”

“A hero’s journey,” Killian said.

“You’re the hero, brother,” Liam said.  He opened the front door and stepped out on the porch and ignored, for a minute, the two people behind him, wrapped around each other and wiping tears from their eyes.

  He couldn’t ignore the easy way Emma held Killian’s hook in her hand, or the many questions he had about it.  That part of his brother’s story was not one they shared.  

So Liam simply walked alongside them, his arm wrapped around his brother’s shoulder, his brother’s wrapped around his.  They walked together, Emma and Killian in unison, the lines of their bodies constantly angled toward each other, their movements in perfect rhythm.

They had probably breathed in sync, back when Killian had breathed.

They deserved to breathe together again.

  The bell over the door rang and Cruella snarled, “Finally.”

Liam could feel a buzzing in his veins; there was magic here, powerful magic lying in wait.  For Emma.  For Killian.

Liam turned to Cruella to see her staring at him, a mixture of undisguised lust and abject loathing in her eyes.  “Why did you bring the tree trunk?”  Her voice dripped disdain.

“I’m here to make sure you get them where they need to go,” Liam said.  “I don’t trust either one of you.”

“Oh ye of little faith.”  The Blind Witch sighed and Cruella looked at her in surprise.  “Oh, darling, we get lots of people with cute sayings down here.  Totally lost and flabbergasted, the lot of them.”  She leaned forward and whispered, “There’s a group called Catholics .  They’re the most fun.  They have the best bon mots.  I rather enjoy those.”

Everyone stared at her, including Cruella.  

“The bon mots,” the Witch clarified.  “And the people.  Right.”  She shrugged.  “Let’s get down to business, shall we?  Put your lips against this.”

Emma took from her hands a metal-plated hose.  It had a mouthpiece.

Liam felt a sense of foreboding; looking at Killian he saw his concern mirrored in his brother’s eyes.  Emma smiled, soft and encouraging.

“This is going to hurt a bit,” the Blind Witch said.  She snapped her fingers and Emma instantly doubled over and tried to pull the mouthpiece from her lips but couldn’t--

couldn’t move at all, just gave a mumbled cry of pain--

And Killian looked at Liam and together they stepped forward.

Toward Cruella.

Cruella, whose eyes were riveted on Emma, nearly salivating at her pain.

Together they pinned Cruella between them, Liam putting her into a headlock as Killian twisted her right arm up her back until Cruella screamed.

  Everything went quiet and the mouthpiece detached from Emma’s lips with an audible plop .

  “Are we done playing games now?” Killian asked.  “Or shall we break every bone in this one’s body?”  His entire focus was on the Blind Witch and there was pure murder in his eyes and Liam only just kept himself from flinching.  “Because by the time I’m done with her--” I now, not we, Liam noted, as something seemed to come over his brother “--you’ll need a wheelbarrow to carry her around.  Forever .”

Red sparks glittered around Killian’s fingertips and the Blind Witch gasped and Cruella groaned and the spell was broken.  Emma stood up, reaching for Killian, and he ran his hand across her face, checking for damage, his eyes wide and worried.

But he would not meet Liam’s gaze; nor, after his brief examination, would he meet Emma’s.

“I’m fine,” Emma whispered, pulling Killian’s face down toward her and forcing him to look at her.  “I’m fine.  We’re done.  Let her go.”

This was directed at Liam and he complied instantly, shoving Cruella back toward the wall.

  “Then let’s get going,” Killian croaked.  “You got what you paid for.”

Cruella was panting and rolling her shoulders and there was a something about the Witch’s face when she said, “Fine.”  She walked over to Cruella, whispering, “She pays the price, kitten, don’t forget, she promised .”

It didn’t sound fine to Liam.  Killian’s eyes narrowed, his mouth opened, but--

  --

  When the smoke cleared Killian could hear the water, its gentle lapping as calm and soothing as a lullabye as it echoed around the cave.  It was an enormous space, easily ten times the size of Arthur’s library and twice as high.  Pillars of rough-hewn rock ran from the ceiling to the floor in every direction, surrounding them and Cruella’s laugh hummed discordantly against the sound of the gurgling stream.

The Witch’s eyes were shiny and bright as she licked her lips in anticipation.

Liam looked dazed as he tried to take it all in and Killian could do nothing but hold on to Emma, her breath, her warmth, her heartbeat all forming anchors for his sanity.  

His rage in the diner--the memory of the power rushing up inside him--

He belonged here.

She didn’t.

  But Emma made no move to free herself from him.  Instead she kissed his cheek and put a warm hand on his, rubbed soft circles into his skin with her thumb as she settled against his side.  She smiled.  It was a hopeful smile and the light of it almost-- almost --brightened the cave and the darkness settling over Killian’s mood.

“Where are we?”  Emma’s voice was not quite steady and he wondered if she was really fine, or if that infernal device back at the diner had truly hurt her.  He wondered what it had done , really, that the Witch and Cruella were so willing and eager to help them.

Surely the price of their release was greater than a single living breath--but it was a beath imbued with Light magic.  Light magic and True Love and a beating heart.

Killian tried to settle himself.  He closed his eyes and listened to the bubble of the river.

It felt-- familiar.

  The Blind Witch hissed.

“Well,” Cruella drawled, affecting boredom.  “This is the way home, Savior.  Your little True Love story with its happy ending.  You drank the Waters of Lethe and you get home on the Mnemosyne.”

Killian’s eyes opened.  But the gleam in Cruella’s eyes--the cadence of her voice--it was hypnotic.

Hypnotic .

This wasn’t the Mnemosyne.

This was the Cave of Hypnos.

This was the River Lethe.

This was where Hades had dragged him, brought him back to himself only to torment him, to use him for his own ends.

This was the water Emma had drunk to make herself forget.

  Liam was staring at him, his eyebrows high on his forehead; slowly, Killian shook his head.

  “Are you all right?”

It was Emma’s voice, soft and worried.  

She didn’t know .

“Emma--”  Killian’s mind was racing.  “How did you get down here and find me?”

“Now?”  Emma looked surprised.

“Indulge me, love,” he said, whispering.  “Tell me the tale.”

“Regina and I--we created a spell.”  Power.  “And my mother, we used her hair.  And my father’s blood.”  Courage .  “Henry’s tears.”  Heart.

  That left only one thing.

“Are you ready for this?”  Emma asked.

Soul .  His soul.

That was the price.

He was going to pay it.

There was no choice to make.

He nodded, mutely, and she kissed him.  Her lips were so warm . 

Then she turned back to the Blind Witch, her shoulders pulled back and her spine straight.  Her arm wrapped tightly around his waist and stayed there. 

  The Blind Witch opened her hand.

Near the edge of the cave a small arc of water appeared, lifted from the river below, and split in two as they bent across stone to flow into her palm.  Next to Killian, Emma was a statue, every part of her strung tightly like a bowstring.

She started to glow.

  A sliver of white light burst from her chest and enveloped the streams and pooled in the Blind Witch’s hand, and then--

Pain .

The streams raced toward Killian, both of them, hitting his chest.

Emma screamed.

Liam jumped, running to Emma, pulling her away from him as something tore at Killian’s insides--not his organs, not his body, something deeper, more vital--and it hurt.

It hurt .

He knew only agony as the magic took him apart, his essence torn asunder.

He couldn’t scream as he fought to stay conscious, saw Emma try to rein in the light, break the chain--she hurled herself at Cruella who screamed in delight and glee and shrieked, “His soul!  The price is his soul .”

  Killian’s knees buckled, connected with rock; there was the pull of his brother’s arms under his shoulders and Emma’s face hovering in front of his.  

He was going to pay the price.  There was no choice to make.

  He looked at Liam.  His brother, his captain, his friend and his ruin.

He looked at Emma.  His True Love, his other half, his warrior orphan, his Savior, and there was no choice to make.

“Emma,” he whispered.  “Emma, go home.  I trust you.  I trust you to do what you think is right.”

  I love you. Always.

  Killian looked at the Blind Witch and nodded.

The Blind Witch nodded back.

And then he felt his mind splinter as his soul was ripped from his body.

  --

  Emma pulls Killian from the waters of the lake, back onto the shore where he’d fallen.

Liam is gone; there is no one to help her.

But she pulls .  He is heavy, unmoving--she leans over his chest and sobs .

  And then she feels it.

A heartbeat under her cheek.

Emma hears a breath drawn and exhaled and another and the longer they lie there, on top of each other, the more he starts to warm up.  He moves , muscle flexing and twitching, and she sits up, laughing and crying at the same time.

He opens his eyes.

  He opens his eyes and he looks at her without a shred of recognition.

His eyes--his beautiful crystalline blue eyes--are blank .

  . 

And by the looks of her sexy witch costume, it wasn’t going to be in Killian’s wheelhouse for the rest of the evening either. He swallowed thickly, turning back to the table and raising his cup to his lips so he could drink down the contents quickly. He astutely ignored the amused look Robin was giving him over the rim of his drink he was sipping from, choosing instead to focus on refilling his cup once again. 

“Happy Halloween, ladies.” 

Killian froze at Robin’s words, glancing out of the corner of his eye at his friend to see him smiling charmingly at who he could only assume were Emma and Ruby just out of sight. He slowed in his drink-assembling, hoping to delay his inevitable greeting for the scantily-clad woman of his fantasies for the past three years standing right next to him. It certainly wouldn’t be appropriate for his tunic to start standing at attention like a good little Roman soldier for someone who very much had herself a boyfriend. 

“Sup, Julius…” Ruby replied to Robin, clearly in response to his costume. “This is one super cute couple’s costume you and Jones have going on here.”

“Actually, there’s a trio of us.” Robin replied informatively as Killian finally turned to look at the two women who had joined them. “Of course Will got it in his head that we were coming as 300, so he’s showing off his makeuped-on abs around here somewhere…”

Ruby grinned and it went scarily well with the sexy wolf costume she had chosen for this year. “No fucking way! You have got to show me!” She latched onto Robin’s wrist, causing his drink to slosh all over his hand. His protests to Ruby were lost to the ever-growing party crowd as she dragged him away. 

Before Killian could so much as offer Emma a belated greeting, now that it was just the two of them standing there, he found his own cup of ‘brew’ yanked from his hand. Eyes going wide, he watched as Emma raised it to her lips and chugged it all down in one huge gulp.

She gasped, chest heaving, and looked at him with her own green eyes squinted slightly. “Scarlet really used makeup?” 

“Oh yeah,” Killian accepted the cup back from her as she held it out to him. “Spent all afternoon getting them ‘just right’” He air-quoted with his right hand, cup dangling from his other three fingers. 

Emma snorted. “He’s so fucking extra.”

He couldn’t help but grin, feeling the slight effect of having chugged down whatever the spiked punch in his cup had been. Killian reach out with his gloved prosthetic hand to brush against the side of her bare arm. “I see Will’s not the only one going a little extra this year?”

Blushing, Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “God, don’t even bring up how ridiculous this is.” She muttered with a roll of her eyes. “I can’t believe I let Ruby talk me into it.” 

“That seems unusual for you, Swan.”

“Yeah, well…” She ripped the cup from his hand again and brushed up against him as she stepped up to the punch bowl. “It’s been an unusual couple of-” She stopped mid-sentence and Killian frowned as the cup went slack in her hand, the liquid she had already ladled into it spilling back down into the bowl. 

“Swan?” He questioned with concerned, leaning to take in her expression. She was staring with wide eyes across the room at something. “Are you okay?” 

Killian started to turn his head to see what had made her freeze up so abruptly, but then found himself suddenly yanked in another direction and could only stumble after Emma as she dragged him along by the front of his tunic with one hand, using the other to snatch the open bottle of rum from the drink table as they passed.

----

“Okay, love,” Killian reached out and slowly lowered the bottle Emma was once again slugging from. She protested with a petulant whine but didn’t put up much of a fight as he gently pulled it from her grasp. “Why don’t you take a breather for a moment and fill me in on what’s going on?”

Emma made a disgusted face, as if the very thought of doing either was something atrocious. “What’s going on, huh?” She snorted loudly, clumsily pushing herself up from the porch steps they had been sitting on for some time now. At least long enough for Killian to watch her put away a good portion of the rum. 

“What’s going on is my high school sweetheart,” She spat the word viciously, stumbling up onto the porch proper to glare down at Killian. “Decided that the past half a fucking decade of our lives wasn’t enough for him and decided that sleeping with his political science classmate was a good fucking idea!”

Killian’s brows pinched together. “Neal did what?”

Laughing drunkenly, Emma nodded. “Oh yeah…” Her grin was almost maniacal. “Neal cheated on me and here I am, letting my shithead of a roommate convince me that dressing like this…” She gestured emphatically to herself. “Would help to make him see the ‘error of his ways’” It was her turn to air-quote, though hers was done with much more acidity than his had been. “And make me feel sooo much better. And yet here I am, and there he was,” 

Killian almost jumped up to steady her as she swayed on her heels to gesture aggressively back towards the inside of the house. Emma managed to balance herself on her own though, plowing on her with her rant like she hadn’t faulted for a moment.

“With said classmate on his arm…” She sighed sadly before her shoulders drooped and her arm flopped down by her side. Emma turned and stumbled back to the step Killian was still sitting on and flopped down hard onto the wood. This time, Killian did reach out and steadied he as she swayed where she sat. It distracted him enough to give Emma the opportunity to snatch the bottle back from him.

He didn’t have the heart to stop her, though, as she took a pitiful gulp. 

“Should’ve just dressed like a fucking clown. Would’ve been less of a waste than this.” She whispered as the tears started to pool in her hazy eyes. 

Before he could second guess himself, Killian gently pulled Emma into his lap. She didn’t resist, collapsing against him with a pitiful ‘oomph’. He once more pried the bottle from her fingers and set it out of her reach up on the banister just behind his head. He then wrapped both arms around her and gave her an encouraging squeeze. 

“I’m so bloody sorry, Emma.” He whispered and she quietly sniffled against his chest. “I’m sorry that Neal is an idiot wanker who can’t keep his dick in his pants.” Despite the somber moment, it gained a snort from her. “I’m sorry that he’s treated you so poorly when you’re the last person in this world who deserves it. And I’m really sorry he made you feel this costume was a waste,” He pulled back to glance down at her and quirked his eyebrow up, cocking his head to the side. “Because it very much isn’t.…”

Blinking up at him, cheeks flush from the rum and his words, Emma sniffled again. “No?”

“Not even remotely.” He smiled for her. “Though I wouldn’t object to a sexy clown either.”

She grinned back and then was suddenly scrambling out of his lap and swaying on her feet. “Okay then,” She wiped under eyes, smearing more makeup than she actually cleaned up, and blew her bangs out of her eyes. “I wanna go carve my pumpkin…” Her green eyes looked down to him as Emma held out her hand. “You comin’?”

Killian sat for a moment, blinking in slight shock at the sudden shift in topic. Part of him wondered if he should keep her outside, away from the party and from Neal, and have her try and open up a little bit more. But then she was wiggling her fingers, eyebrows raising, and he found he couldn’t be the reason she was denied any more pleasure that night.

He took her hand, rising to his feet, and snagging the rest of the rum off the banister as she once more dragged him along.

-----

“I jus’ don geddit…” Will slurred as he stumbled down the street with Robin to the house they both shared with Killian. He frowned down at his smudged abs, wiping absently at them and smearing them around even more. “We were jus’ at her bloody ‘ouse.”

Robin kept a steadying, leading hand on his drunken roommate’s shoulder and glanced over his own to check on the pair slowly following after them. Killian was weaving a slightly uneven path down the sidewalk, his own slightly-drunken attention more on the witch gathered in his arms than keeping his path straight. 

He was murmuring something to her softly, and despite how her face was mostly obscured behind her askew witch hat, Robin could still make out the giddy smile that tilted Emma’s lips upward. It disappeared sharply as Killian stumbled against a broken part of the sidewalk. 

“My pumkin!” She yelped loud enough for Robin to hear, hugging the carved gourd in question closer to her chest. 

Whatever Killian whispered to her in response was enough to placate her and have her snuggling her face back up against his neck. 

Smiling, Robin faced forward once again and continued to steer Will along. “We don’t question the work of the gods, mate.”

“The bloody ‘ell you on ‘bout?!” Will grumbled and Robin couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. 

-----

One year later...

“You can’t be serious, love.”

Killian glanced out the passenger window of Emma’s bug, eyeing the costume shop she had just pulled up in front of warily. 

Leaning into him across the console with her chin resting on his shoulder, Emma took in the shop for herself. “I may not remember everything from last year,” She brushed her nose against his shoulder and poked at his side playfully. “But ‘I wouldn’t object to a sexy clown’ stands out clear as day, mister.”

“Aye,” Killian nodded and then turned his head to look at her as she pulled back from him slightly. “But I wasn’t referring to myself.”

Emma smiled innocently and shrugged. “That part isn’t all that clear, sorry…” 

Rolling his eyes, Killian scoffed. “Oh, of course it isn’t.” He grumbled before leaned over to press his lips to hers. She hummed into his mouth before wrapping her arm around his neck to deepen the kiss. He allowed her to take the lead, and soon found himself breathless as she pulled away after several long moments with a satisfying pop of their lips. 

“You damn enchantress you.” He muttered playfully. 

She scrunched up her nose as she smiled. “You love it.”

“I love something, that’s for sure.” He answered back with sincerity, gaze strong as he looked at her. She bit her bottom lip and looked momentarily overwhelmed before her grin turned dazzling and she leaned in to kiss him quickly one more time.

“You’re still dressing like a sexy clown.” She whispered into his ear playfully before turning and practically bouncing out of her side of the car.

Killian groaned and watched her bound excitedly around the front of the car. “Bloody hell.”