#miliam

Milah stared down into the dark abyss until she heard the coin plop at the bottom of the well. She bit her lip and looked around, for a moment daring to hope that it might actually work. Nothing changed around her, the only sounds were the wind through the trees and birdsong.

One long sigh later she pushed herself away from the well before turning to walk back into town. She'd remembered the well from the Underworld and had hoped when she found the coin in Rumple's castle that it would work. Her ex husband had told her that the magic was gone but let her bring it back anyway. Apparently, guilt made him nicer to her. It was…disconcerting.

For weeks she'd resisted. Milah could pretend she was fine during the day, could smile and hold conversations. During the day she could be happy and watch Killian start a family and listen to stories of her beautiful grandbaby from the mouths of his mothers. Hell, even arguing with Rumple was almost fun now.

Night was a different story. When darkness fell she was on her own, remembering what it was like to stretch out into nothingness, to be nothingness. To forget herself completely over the years until she was nothing more than one of the lost souls she had pitied moments before joining them. Then there was the absolute agony of all her memories being forced back within her, the good and the bad, circling around in her skull in confusing chaos. 

Then there were the other memories. A lifetime on a ship she could never have back. Over a century of mourning and self exploration. Then, finally, a few short decades where two people finally allowed themselves quiet happiness, whispering promises to each other in a bar as cloth tied around their hands and hoping no one heard them. Like the ship that was gone, too, her last chance having literally just slipped through her fingers.

She stood in front of the diner and stared at the door. It was a good place to get food, and at least it didn't have the wrong bartender. And, if nothing else, she could lose herself in the stories of others for a little while.

"Are you alright, love?" Killian had been hiding in plain sight, waiting for his Swan to get off work while he kept the outdoor table glued to the floor with his feet propped against it.

Her lips pressed in a thin line as she wrapped her cardigan more securely around her. "I am."

"And a terrible liar," he said, an eyebrow arched.

"You're still annoyingly perceptive." The other eyebrow joined his first and she huffed. Fine. "I made a wish at the well and it didn't come true. I knew it was silly when I did it, but it is still a bit disappointing."

 "To see your boy again?"

Milah smiled softly. There had been a time when she'd wished she could have two wishes before thinking better about it. "I couldn't ask Baelfire to leave where he is. Emma's told me he's happy. That should be enough." And it was,most days. 

"If not him, then who?"

Milah gasped at him. "I did know how to make friends down in the Underworld, Killian." They never really talked about it. Her death still hurt him and she just wasn't ready.

"'Friend' friends or 'I like punching your face' friends?"

Milah laughed. "A bit of both. What's eternal boredom without a few bar brawls, hmm?"

"Fair enough. So who–" He cut off just as Milah felt the breeze in her hair and the scent of salt. She closed her eyes and she was back on the Jolly on a perfect day to sail.

Another voice tore her focus from Killian, causing her eyes to sting as her breath caught in her throat. "Milah?"

She turned and her joy turned to horror. He walked off the ship, away from the brilliant, perfect sailing day, and moved toward her. "Liam, no, go back, I didn't know that's where you–"

He cut her off with a desperate kiss that ended with a sigh of relief as he held her close.

Milah forced herself to pull back. "You need to go back before it's too late. I wouldn't have wished for you had I known you'd moved on."

"I've searched for you endlessly. " He pressed his forehead against hers, hands not stilling as they brushed back her hair, touched her cheek, slid down her arm, before starting all over. The portal behind him closed and he didn't flinch. "There is no happier place without you. I promised you forever and I meant it."

She felt herself relax completely for the first time since the last time he'd held her like this. She buried her face against his neck and wrapped her arms tight around him, all the safety she'd been missing over the years flooding into her."Good. Because I've really needed you."

His arms were nearly crushing her. "I'm here now," he promised, softly. After a few minutes he asked her, just as soft but with a bit of caution. "You didn't tell Killian about us, did you."

Milah tensed. "Does he look angry?"

"Slightly horrified. More confused, I think, than anything."

She pulled away but held her hand out to him. "Well, let's go, then. Hopefully your being here softens the blow."

It didn't, at first.

Deep cover is the worst. It's long, it's stressful. It's dangerous.

He rarely did deep cover anymore. It wasn't safe within a thousand miles of headquarters. Too much risk of someone knowing him. Foreign ops were still an option though, thanks primarily to Will Scarlet's careful diligence in keeping every trace of Liam Jones' little brother's face off of the internet. But Liam needed the best for this one and he was still the best.

He hadn't actually seen the latest intelligence yet. An intercepted transmission for one Killian Jones that had set off a wave of celebration and an undercurrent of suspicion through the organization simultaneously. The letter was making its rounds and by careful indifference it had yet to reach him. But the news had spread like wildfire and the higher ups were watching the spread with a barely hidden scrutiny.

A copy of the letter was pressed into his hands finally and he pasted a look of mild interest on his features. He could feel the heat of eyes on him as he scanned. Anything more than a cursory glance would raise suspicions but from the first a sudden panic seized him.

"Forgive me for doing this in a letter Killian. You have a way with words I've never shared and I do not trust myself to do this properly if I have to see the look on your face while I speak. If anyone could talk me out of death itself it would be you, little brother. I hope you know that, whatever happens, I tried to stay. If I've failed, I wanted to give you the one last conversation that I so desperately needed when I thought I'd lost you.

I don't know what will become of me. Perhaps I will beat the odds and I can give you this letter with my own hand when my days are done and your children are long grown. If not, at least I hope it was useful. That my death could provide some small measure of safety for you and Emma and your beautiful-"

The letter went on. Killian could not. The letter vanished from his hand and on to the next gawker who let out a whoop of delight and began a mocking dramatic reading of something that Killian hadn't read yet. His eyes slipped cautiously to his boss' face. He was still being watched.

Could it be true?

His mind raced and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, drowning out the dramatic reading from the asshole on the table.

How?

Liam wasn't in the field. Liam was behind a damn desk. Liam wasn't supposed to-

Even if he was, he forced himself to consider the possibility logically. Would Scarlet really release this, risk exposing him like this. To risk his very life to beckon him home? Why? His stomach twisted painfully. Yes. If his family was in danger. What else could force Liam to yield his life but a threat to his family. If it wasn't Killian it had to be- And Killian hadn't been there to protect them, to protect him, because he'd needed a few more days. To what? Suddenly the whole operation felt hollow. Liam was gone.

Killian took a shallow breath, the panic making him feel like he might be sick. He was going to get himself killed if he couldn't control himself.

He wanted to run.

He wanted to abandon everything. The progress he'd made, the intel he'd gathered, the chance of eliminating position number 3 on their top ten most wanted list. What the hell did it matter now-

He swallowed hard turning his face away from the higher ups watching him with the facade of attention to the mocker still on top of the table.

He still couldn't hear the words.

There are many things Liam Jones is not proud of.

The encrypted file on his computer, chief among them. A full color recording of the time he'd failed Killian so spectacularly as his commanding officer and as his brother. The video had been livestreamed straight into ops and watching his little brother's apparent murder had broken something inside him so thoroughly that it never quite healed, even after Killian stumbled into his office weeks later beaten and exhausted but alive.

Since that day Killian had deleted the file dozens of times, and destroyed several copies on flashdrives. He'd caught Liam watching it at 3am more nights than either of them wanted to think about, after too many drinks from a home bar that used to be for show. He'd never find them all. Liam needed that video. Needed that reminder of how much was at stake. Needed the reminder of how much Killian could survive.

It was a lie. He didnt need the reminder. he knew every moment, could see it behind closed eyelids on the bad nights. He remembered the horror and the grief and the guilt. Most of all he remembered the shock.

They lived with the possibility. In their line of work it was impossible not to know the statistics. But Killian was different. Killian was a survivor. Killian always came home. Liam always brought him home.

Emma trusted that.

Most days she didn't even ask when Killian was coming home. She just watched him too carefully at dinner, atuned to his moods. If he wasn't worried, she wasn't worried.

But he was always worried. He'd just learned to hide it better since Alice had come along.

He'd had his share of close calls himself, even if they were fewer since he'd given up field work years ago. But it nagged at him. The desperate need to talk to Killian just one more time, after...there was one more file on his computer that Liam considered a necessary evil. Letters to his family. "In the event of my death-" ran the first, a practical sort of letter addressed to Will Scarlet. Scarlet was the only one, as it happened, who had already seen his letter, as he'd set up the simple executable file that would handle distribution of the contents of that digital folder."

They sat, forgotten in a corner of his hard drive, largely ignored since the raw weeks following Killian's return. Until the data breech.

The breech that Scarlet had deemed a non-essential compromise. personal files only, motive of digital attack pending investigation.

It took hours for Scarlet to even determine if any files had been accessed and once he'd discovered it he'd deemed the breech one of non-critical scope. After all, the scope of the breech was so targeted, so tiny. So innane. One single personal folder on Liam's hard drive, of no intelligence value whatsoever.

Unless of course its being used to ferret out someone in deep cover.

Which is how he ended up here. In his office, waiting for a call. he had no way of reaching Killian right now, he was in too deep, but surely Killian would call for early extraction?

The minutes blurred together into hours.

It isn't true.

The hours to days

It isn't true.

It isn't true.

It became his mantra. The only way he could get through the next moment was a pointed and conscious complete refusal to accept the contents of the letter. Because if it was true he had to get out. And if he tried to get out right now he would never make it. He knew it. The entire organization was on high alert, waiting for someone to bolt.

It isn't true.

Despite the way the wording felt so much like Liam it tugged at his heart. Who the hell would know Liam well enough to forge that-

No.

It isn't true.

Do your job. Complete your assignment. Get to the extraction point. Just a few more days.

Killian didn't call for early extraction.

Milah texted him at 4 am when he didn't come home, telling him that he owed her big time for making her be the one to tell Emma. He'd forgotten. He was busy. Wearing a groove in the carpet of his office, plotting out every possible trajectory. Very few of them with much possibility of a happy ending.

Why didn't Killian call for an early extraction?

There was a pounding on his door which made him jump, some part of him entirely certain that it was Killian in his doorway, just as he'd been once before when- he looked up.

Emma.

He swiped his card to release the security door, wondering in passing how she'd gotten past the one on the ground floor. For her own safety more than anything else she didn't have access-

His train of thought was cut off by the door flying open.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"Is it true? He's compromised?"

"Possibly."

"Possibly?" Emma's complexion turned a shade or two redder. "Liam tell me what the hell is going on or I swear to-"

"I don't know." Liam spat back suddenly and Emma stepped back as though he'd struck her. "I don't..." Liam repeated quieter, "I don't know, Emma."

"What happened?"

"Someone got into the server, accessed my personal files. Took only one. The breach was so small Scarlet didn't even think they got anything until."

"What did they get?"

"I wrote him a letter. My goodbyes, should anything... happen to me unexpectedly. It was encrypted but-"

"He thinks you're dead."

Liam swallowed hard. "It's worse than that."

Emma sank down onto the couch her head in one hand. "How. How could it be worse than that?"

"They're looking for him. There's no other reason for such a targeted breach."

"So get him out!" Emma cried. "Bring him home. That's what you do."

"Don't you think if I could have I-" he swallowed hard. "Scheduled extraction is in five days. Unless he contacts us I can't reach him."

4 days 14 hours and 37 minutes.

Not that he was counting.

It had been 4 days 14 hours and ...38 minutes since someone had pressed a letter into his hand and his world had crumbled around him. He'd existed in a haze from that moment, locking every emotion in a trunk somewhere in the back of his mind. Relying on automation and training to get him through. Only daring to question himself in the dead of night when the dark hid his face from the gaze of the criminals around him and he could risk a moment of weakness to wonder.

Should he have run?

It haunted his every moment. The needling doubt underneath every repeated It's not true that was the only thing keeping him sane. No further transmissions. No attempt to contact him, that he could tell. Not that his bosses would be likely to let such a transmission through. They were still waiting for someone to crack.

4 days 14 hours and 39 minutes.

Extraction was mere hours away and he didn't know how the hell he was going to get out now. Now when the entire organization was on high alert, waiting for someone to do exactly what he was going to do in the next few hours. Focus on the logistics. It's what Liam would-

It's not true.

Most of what he'd gathered was encrypted on several usb drives, stashed in several predetermined locations. A cautionary measure against extraction going sideways. He'd renamed each drive isittrue. In case they retrieved the drive before he could get out. A plea that Scarlett find some way to get a message to him. No message came.

He wasn't truly expecting one. but still it needled at the back of his mind. Was there no message because it had been intercepted. Because they had yet to retrieve the intel. Because it was true and they didn't want him distracted. Hell if Liam was gone would anyone even be there to ex-

It's not true.

Focus damnit.

"You're a cold bastard." the voice of one of his sub-lieutenants rang out and it was all Killian could do not to jump or curse, or both. He glanced back to see the glint of a weapon trained on him from a shadowed alcove. He had a tail. Damn it he was better than this.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Killian growled, forcing steel and a yet unfamiliar accent into his tone.

"My job. Same as you."

"Look, man-"

"Save it. We both know who you are. Goodbye Killian Jones." Killian dropped like a stone the instant before the sound of two weapon shots near deafened him. Heat then ice tore through his shoulder and his tail collapsed unmoving, Killian's bullet in his heart. More would come.

"Bloody buggering he-" Killian grumbled, finally dropping the accent he'd been using for the last seven weeks as his hand raised to his shoulder coming away red. He pulled the flannel overshirt he was wearing off one shoulder, and with a muffled groan lifted his arm slightly to wrap his left shoulder as best he could.

Get to exfil. Get to Liam- Please. He finally let himself beg. Please don't be true.

He ran.

Four blocks from exfil.

He shouldn't have been able to run. The blood draining out of him at every step left him pale and winded and the corners of his vision were already a bit blurry. But knowing that the third most wanted man on their wall of infamy was no more than three minutes behind you does wonders for inspiring physical endurance. If he passed out he died. That was all there was to it. If he got to the extraction point he might have a chance in hell. If he passed out it was over. They'd put a bullet in his head before he even woke and a man doesn't get so lucky as to survive that twice.

Three blocks.

He could hear the reving of car engines down the street. His boss' sub lieutenants searching for him most likely. He'd managed to stem the flow of blood enough to not leave a bloody trail from the man he'd killed but not for long. He'd bought himself minutes probably. Someone would come across the trail of red and then it was over.

Two blocks.

If you pass out you're dead. If you pass out you're dead. If you pass out-

"Who has eyes on Hook?" Liam demanded over the radio.

"Negative, grid 1"

"Negative, grid 2"

"Negative, grid 3"

On and on. Negative negative negative. Killian was late. Killian was seven minutes late for exfil and Liam wanted to knock down every bloody door in this entire damn neighborhood until he found-"

BANG! BANG! Two shot in the distance and Liam's stomach sank. No.

"Where was that?" He demanded.

"North, boss."

"Sounded like it came from the East to me-"

Damn these tall buildings that echoed and damn these people who were so used to the sound of guns firing they didn't so much as flinch to give Liam and his people a hint- "Eyes peeled," he called, "Someone get me eyes on Hook now!"

The minutes ticked by, the radio silent, no one wanting to fill the air with chatter at a time like this.

"Man down, grid seven!" Finally rang out over the radio. "I repeat, man down. I need backup. I've got eyes on him, Captain but-" more gunshots over the radio and over the air waves.

Liam cursed again, checking his weapon unnecessarily and slamming open the door to the van. No one even tried to stop him. Grid seven that was- before he'd even had time to move there was the sound of more weapon fire and Liam ran towards it as the civilians finally realized something abnormal was happening, impeding his progress with an exodus in the other direction.

His man was pinned down behind a dumpster and two cars were at the far end of the alley doors open for cover half a dozen men strewing the alley with covering fire. Killian was down in the middle of all of it, terrifyingly pale, his entire left side soaked in scarlet from shoulder to boot. He took one step towards Killian without thinking only to be pulled back as a bullet whizzed by where he'd been only a moment before.

"Hood?" he demanded over the radio, "Where the devil are you and yours?"

"In position in 45 seconds, Captain."

"Make it 30."

"Copy."

"For what must have been hours Liam waited, eyes fixed on the still body on his brother in that alley just beyond his reach. 4 shots. 4 thuds. And panic broke over the enemy ranks. Liam burst from behind the dumpster, grabbed Killian under both shoulders (sorry, Killian) and dragged him behind cover. His left hand was sticky with cold blood. With one man under each shoulder they dragged Killian from the alley and shoved him unceremoniously into the waiting van.

"Killian?" Liam lost his balance when the van pealed out of its spot, just catching himself as they raced towards medical aid and air transport. "Hold on, little brother," Liam whispered, "nearly out. Just hold on-"

If you pass out you're dead.

It was the last thing he remembered thinking before everything went dark and the first when he woke up, abruptly realizing that somehow he wasn't. His eyelids were heavy with exhaustion and the familiar weight of drugs. He fought the heaviness and managed to slit open one eye. Grey metal, the whirring of fans. He'd been captured. His eyes closed again and he forced them open once more, searching for something, anything to aid his esc-

"Killian?"

Liam?

The next time he managed to get an eye open Liam's face was hovering over him.

"Li'm?"

"Aye, little brother. I'm alright. We're alright. I'm taking you home."

He wanted to reply. To say something, hit his brother senseless for putting him through that. To hug him and then perhaps hit him again. He passed out instead.

When he woke the walls were brighter, the weight of exhaustion and of the drugs less overwhelming. The sound which he now realized in retrospect belonged to a helicopter, not a giant fan, was gone.

Liam. Liam had been here. He shot up, agony lancing through his shoulder and down his arm making him cry out. Moments later there was a pressure at his side, "Relax, little brother, I've got you."

"Git." Killian murmured, his mouth barely managing to form the words. His eyes blurred and tears slipped down his cheeks as Liam shifted to support him. Killian slumped against him, exhausted and not caring in the slightest that tears were now freely flowing down his cheeks. He'd blame it on the drugs later, he decided, turning and burying his face into Liam's shoulder. "You utter git."

"I'm sorry, Killian," Liam murmured, voice slightly muffled and thick. "I'm so sorry."

"You're alright? You weren't-"

"I was never in any danger. It was a ploy. One that you showed remarkable resilience against."

"Tell that to the tail that I was too distracted to notice," Killian commented. "Emma?"

"Fine. Still back home. Probably pissed as all hell by our detour."

"Detour?" Killian looked around, suddenly surprised. "Where the devil are we?"

"Somewhere in west Germany," Liam commented, "I'm not entirely certain."

"Germany? How-? What do you mean you're not certain?"

"You coded twice in the air, Killian. I was a little distracted."

"Ah," Killian replied... "sorry." Liam chuckled dryly and tightened his grip. "When can we go home?"

"Did you not hear what I just said? Your heart stopped. Twice. I'm quite certain that requires a certain level of recuperation time, even from you."

Killian moped, his eyebrows furrowing and one corner of his lip turning in his characteristic pout.

"You're going to make the nurses' lives hell aren't you?"

Killian nodded cheerfully and Liam sighed. "I'll get your discharge papers."

"Liam-" Killian interrupted, before he made it more than a step away from the bedside.

"Hmm?"

"You're going to delete that damn letter. Because if I ever have to read about your death being useful again... I will find a way to bring you back and punch you myself."

Liam's lips thinned into a terse line and he looked as though he might argue for a moment. then he paused, tousling his brother's hair in a fond gesture he hadn't gotten away with since they were kids. True to form Killian glared at him, shaking his tangled and too long hair out. "I mean it, Liam."