#post underworld

Forcing herself to trudge onward, wary but determined, Emma makes her way to the docks.  She doesn’t know why she is here, why none of her family has accompanied her, but if she has been returned to this hellish version of Storybrooke, then she fears Killian has been as well, and if so, by the water seems the best place to look for him.  

Out of the fog to her left, a choked cry arrests her attention, and she turns in shock to see Cora holding her mother’s heart tightly in her fist; squeezing, nails digging into the red muscle, cackling in victory as Snow White falls to her knees, clutching desperately for a breath, gurgling helplessly as she does.  Emma tries to move to her mother’s aid, but is held in place, can’t speak to cal out, frozen in helpless observation as Cora releases her hold just enough to demand an answer when she intones maliciously, “You should never have come here, Snow. What made you think – after what you did to me – that I would allow you to leave safely if I had it in my power to pay you back?”

Snow hauls in a ragged breath, her words harsh and labored, her tone nothing like the kind, loving one Emma has come to know, but bitter as she speaks on forced cue.  “It was Emma.  I had to accompany her in her ridiculous quest to get her love back.  After all we had put her through already, what choice did we have?  But we should never have come!  She isn’t worth this!  We should have stayed with Neal – our real child – the one we succeeded with!”

Emma’s chest constricts, feeling as though she is being suffocated, her heart split twice – once at Snow’s words and her callous dismissal, and then again as Cora squeezes the organ to dust and her mother falls still and dead on the pavement.

Eyes burning, mind already aching to forget, to make what she has seen untrue, Emma next hears the sounds of a fight off to her other side, grunts of exertion and growls of anger leading her even before she turns to see David fighting his evil twin.  James grapples mercilessly, but her father holds him off at every pass, even as his vengeful sibling vows that he will never steal the glory here in this domain as he did above.  “You’ve failed the Savior,” James taunts.  “You’re not going to be able to help your precious daughter find her True Love, nor will you get to return to life with your perfect little family.  The Savior should have had someone much better than a mere shepherd at her side.”

Far from being as staggered by the accusation as she would have expected, David merely scoffs in James’ face.  “Hard to fail someone who refuses to accept my help.  I only regret that I kept trying so hard to earn scraps of Emma’s love. She’ll never be my little girl.  It’s too late to be her father, and now I’ve followed her to my death for nothing.”

Emma shakes her head “no”, wanting to run to him, to assure him that his confession isn’t true, but again, it is as though she has been imprisoned in quicksand and stricken mute.  She cannot reach her father, nor can she tell him just how much she does need him and appreciate him.  Instead, right before eyes that refuse to close and shield her from the grotesque abomination playing out beyond her control, she sees James get the upper hand for a moment, wielding a wicked-looking knife blade and slashing it across her father’s exposed throat.  Red blood gushes forth as he collapses, felled in seconds with no chance of recovery.  Both of her parents have now been slaughtered before her eyes, and the echoes in Emma’s brain chant, “Your fault, your fault, you failed them all…”

She can only shuffle forward in numb resignation as Robin and Regina appear before her as well, only to turn their backs on her easily, taking Henry with them as they head home and leave her to her fate without hesitation.  Yet not before Henry turns to look right at her with malice in his eyes and vows coldly.  “I’m leaving you,” he spits, “just like you did to me all those years ago.  I already have a mom, and I don’t ever want to see you again.”

There is no measure for the devastation Emma feels coursing through her veins, crushing her like an inexorable weight which will surely sink her.  Tears pour down her face in streams, obscuring her view as she tries to reach out for her son, vainly calling him back to plead with him that she had no choice, she had loved him all along – it was why she couldn’t keep him.  But Henry doesn’t even pause and he never looks back.

Stumbling, clawing for control and feeling as though she will collapse at any moment, Emma gulps deep breaths and somehow manages to move once again – only one more person to find.  After the horrendous encounters she has already endured, she fears how Killian may appear, how he might turn from her, what may have befallen him, but she can’t not go to him either.  She needs him like a lifeline in a storm she can’t survive alone.

As the docks come into sight at last, she sees a tall, straight form that can only belong to her pirate standing with his back to her looking out over the waves.  Inching closer in spite of herself, Emma holds her breath, hoping that Killian will prove different, that he won’t hate her, and that she can get him out of here.  They can piece together what is left of the life that could have been.

“Killian?” she whispers, reaching out to lay a tentative hand on his arm when she draws near, hoping against hope that he will know her, that he will want her and believe her as no one else has done, as he has so many times before.  It is immediately clear her wish will be denied though by the cold radiating from him.  When he turns to face her, his icy gaze sends shivers down her spine even before a cruel smile curls his lip.  “Why Swan, what brings you here?” he asks coolly, completely unaffected by her appearance at his side.

“I came for you!  We have to get out of here!” she pleads, reaching for his hand again.

“Oh, I think not,” he shakes his head with an ease that frightens her.  “I am not going anywhere with you, Love,” the mocking emphasis he puts on the endearment cuts her to the core.  “You gave me over to the Darkness.  You sent me here.  Now I have no need of you.”

And then, without warning, both hand and hook reach out and push her away.  Emma flails for balance, but with one last shove, face impassive and without regret, the man she loves sends her off the wooden planks and into the River of Lost Souls.

“No!” she screams as she falls away from him, hands still reaching out in frantic appeal.  “Killian! No! Please…”

“Swan! Emma!  Wake up, Love!  It was just a dream.  You’re alright now, Darling.  Open your eyes and look at me.”

Emma’s eyes pop open in the dark of the home she, Killian, and Henry now share, safe in their bed, the horror she had been dreaming fading back to nightmarish unreality.  Killian’s hand moves from her arm where he has gently shaken her into awareness, to cradle the back of her head, fingers mussing in her hair while his handless arm rubs soothingly over her back.  Gasping shakily, her mind clears; the tear tracks are plain on her face, but she can already feel herself calming with the knowledge that the abandonment and anguish had been a bad dream and the Underworld is truly behind them.

“Shh, Lass, you’re safe.  Everything is alright now. What happened?” Killian asks in a murmur, dipping his head to brush soft lips against the flushed skin of her bare shoulder.

As Emma tells him in halting, stuttered words and shuddery, swallowed sobs, he counters each horrible loss or betrayal conjured in her mind with healing touches and reassurances that those she loves could never feel as their imagined doppelgangers had said.  Finally, in the safety of her True Love’s arms, another of the varied nightmares that have haunted her in the week since they settled in and began living their future is eased away, and Emma is able to sleep.

Killian gazes tenderly down at his Savior in repose, trailing his fingers along the side of her face.  She is already deep enough in slumber not to realize that for another night his eyes don’t close and he cannot sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Emma does finally notice, another week and a half has gone by, and she chides herself for not seeing the turmoil he is suffering sooner.  Clearly, as he always does, Killian put her comfort above his own and didn’t want to upset or worry her further when she was dealing with her own terrors.  However, shaking her head at her own sad eyes in the bathroom mirror as she readies for bed, Emma thinks ruefully that she should smack him for being so bloody noble and self-sacrificing.  The marks of haunted sleep and waking self-blame are finally fading from the face that stares back at her – and though it is an infinite relief, she weeps inside to think that the man she loves has been quietly suffering all the time he has been comforting her.

Stoic and uncomplaining Killian may be, but his secret has finally become clear.  He can no longer hide the fact that he isn’t sleeping at all.  The last three nights in a row, she has awakened in the dark to find him gone, the pillow beside her cold.  Unable to go back to her own rest until she is sure that her love is alright, that he hasn’t been taken from her by some new threat or cruel twist of Fate, Emma pushes the covers back and pads barefoot through the house until she finds him – most often brooding silently on their screened back porch, gazing out at the waves as they crash against the moonlit shore. Sometimes, humming softly in the back of her throat, Emma simply wraps her arms around his shoulders, swaying them both gently back and forth until his taut stance eases and she can lead him back up the stairs to their room.  Other times she crosses her legs and sits on the floor beside him, leaning against his leg with her body and resting her head on his knee until she feels his fingers sifting through the strands of her hair, the repetitive motion lulling him as much as it does her.  Those nights she usually awakens only when he picks her up to carry her back to their bed.

But enough is enough, Emma vows when she wakes at 2 a.m. to the howl of a raging storm and the wind and rain lashing against the windows.  Killian cannot go on like this.  The dark shadows under his eyes are deepening, sometimes his words slur and he nearly drifts off momentarily at the dinner table only to jerk back to awareness within seconds and vainly pretend nothing is wrong.  Today, when he came to the station with lunch for her and David, his weariness had been evident and made him clumsy, his foot catching in the doorframe.  Only David’s hand shooting out to his elbow had stopped him from falling flat on his face.  He drinks so much coffee merely to function that she fears he’ll make himself sick, and yet Emma senses all too keenly the turmoil he is avoiding by making every attempt to put off sleep each night.

As the wind continues to roar outside the sturdy walls, knocking tree branches against the window and rattling the shutters, Emma sits up determinedly, suddenly wide awake and certain that when she finds him this time, she won’t let him deflect her concerns again.  Certainly he hasn’t been averse to her immediate comfort when she finds him each night and cajoles him back into their large four poster.  However, the visions that haunt him are not fading on their own.  He has to get them out and get some rest in order to stay sane.  She can’t lose him to his own nightmares and exhaustion, and the hopeless misery they bring on, not now when they are safe and together… and finally have a chance to be happy.

However, a search of both the upstairs and downstairs reveals that he is not on the porch in his usual spot, or any of the other alcoves he has subtly made his own – the large overstuffed chair before the fireplace in the den, the window seat in the living room – in fact, she realizes with a growing level of concern that her pirate isn’t in their house at all.

‘What is he thinking going out alone in a storm like this?!’ Emma rants to herself as she hurriedly shoves her feet into tall, polka dot rain boots and shrugs on a jacket.  Flipping the hood up over the messy topknot she has gathered her hair into, she zips the too-large, definitely Killian’s hoodie closed over her nightgown and flings open the door.

She steps out in the gale and immediately feels the exposed parts of her sleepwear grow soaked and tangle around her knees.  But she is too worried about Killian and what must have upset him enough to drive him from their home – not to mention his safety in such a violent downpour – to turn back for more sensible clothing or care if anyone else might see her out in her nightclothes at this hour and think she’s lost her mind.

For lack of any better idea, and eerily echoing what has happened in more than one of her own disquieting nightmares enough to make her shiver but not stop, Emma heads for the town docks, where Killian keeps the Jolly at anchor.  Hoping he has at least been sensible enough to board his ship and seek some shelter from the rain, Emma’s eyes are already scanning the area for some sign of her Captain as soon as she gets to the harbor.

With the total fury of the rainstorm whipping around her, the wind and sheets of freezing rain battering against her body and trying to force her back, Emma spies him through the tumult.  Again, as in her dreams, he is a tall, dark form standing right at the edge before one would plunge into the frigid waves.  Pausing only a second at the remembered cruelty in his imagined parody, Emma then shakes such thoughts away.  This is the man who has comforted her through her nightmares, reassured her that he could never turn from her or send her away, and has healed the wounds and fears left by even her darkest thoughts.  He needs her now, whether he will admit it or not, to pull him from similar depths.  And she will not fail him – cannot bear to let him down.

“Killian,” she calls out over the wailing winds, surging waves, and the slaps against the wood from sheets of rain.  “What are you doing here?!” she reaches him at about the same time she finishes calling out her question, and he turns sharply to face her, eyes wide with surprise.

“Emma!” he blurts out, eyes raking over her in concern as his hand and hook both reach out to pull her to his side, immediately belying the horrible vision her treacherous visions had implanted of him pushing her away and into the ocean churning below.  “What are you doing here, Love?!?  You’re soaked to the skin and you’ll catch your death!”

Emma wraps her arms around him just as tightly, leaning back only far enough to tilt her head back and look up at him, pegging him with a direct stare right in his eyes.  “I could say the same thing to you,” she reminds him bluntly.  “What are you thinking standing out here in a typhoon?!”

Bracingly, Killian rubs both arms over her back to attempt bringing back some of the warmth to her already shivering body, and huffs out an exasperated breath at her words.  “It’s hardly that, Darling.  I’ve been through worse squalls than this.”  Bending, he presses his chin to the top of her head and holds her closer still.  “There’s no need for you to be out here as well.”

But she shakes her head vigorously, feeling the motion rub against him as he holds her, not letting him be self-deprecating this time, or to belittle what haunts him or push it away with a witty remark.  “Don’t you know by now, Pirate?” she asks, breathing the words against the rain-wet skin of his neck.  “If you need to be here, then that’s where I belong too.”

He doesn’t respond aloud, but Emma feels him swallow convulsively where her lips still rest against the strong column of his throat, prompting her to continue, knowing he has heard her whether he believes her words yet or not.  “You aren’t sleeping, Killian. You haven’t been for awhile now.  I know something’s bothering you!”

She can feel him trembling beneath her fingers, even amidst the chaos that rages around them still.   He remains speechless for so long that Emma begins to fear he won’t talk to her, but will instead consign himself to continue suffering alone.  Pleading one last time, she adds, “Please Killian…let me try to help.”

“I can’t!” he cries out as though physically hurt.  “I simply cannot sleep!”  Turning away desperately, he paces a few feet across the wet planks of the dock, shoves a hand back through sopping hanks of his too-long hair, and though he is once again not facing her, Emma can see his shoulders hitch in a defensive posture.  “I can’t let my guard down or I see horrible things repeating in my brain over and over again.  True terrors – worse even than those after Liam’s death or the hallucinations after the loss of my hand – you… d-dying in the Underworld in my place…y-your boy being tormented in front of you to punish you for trying to rescue me, you deciding I’m not worth the effort and turning away, coming to hate me and never wishing to see me again.  I can’t bear it, and yet they always return until sleep is no comfort to me!”

Emma sighs, her fingertips stroking the shell of his ear as she cups the side of his face in her hand and lets her thumb trace along the faded scar beneath his eye.  She has again moved to stand in front of him, keeping both her touch and her tone gentle, in the hope that he will see she means to stand by him and help him heal as he has so patiently done for her.  “Did you think I wouldn’t care?  That I wouldn’t listen?”

He sighs, shoulders slumping, his exhaustion evident in every line of his bearing as her pirate finally gives up trying to appear strong.  “You had worries and fears of your own – nightmares that I wanted to help you fight, not add to.”

Tears well in Emma’s throat as she shakes her head fervently, clutching at his shoulders as if afraid he will disappear.  She wants to tell him to never, never, sacrifice his own health or peace for hers, to make him promise he will take care of himself and not value his own happiness so lightly, but no words will come out, and she realizes it would be something Killian cannot promise anyway.  Instead, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls his mouth down to meet hers in a bruising, ardent kiss, trying to pour all the emotion she can’t voice into the action.  He has to know.

Killian clings to her in return.  When he grunts lightly at her onslaught, but then pushes back, arms around her waist and sweeping his tongue past her teeth, her knees go a bit weak and she’s glad for the extra steadiness of his body supporting hers. The storm still rages around them, sheets of rain pelting down to further drench them both, but they are swept up in a moment neither wants to forget – holding each other for dear life, each of them the other’s only raft in a churning sea.  They may not yet be cured, but they will be in time.  They need each other too desperately for either one to let go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As it turns out, it’s Killian who gets sick from the cold and exposure, not Emma.  He is a horrible patient, ranting deliriously about “being a bloody pirate and not needing to lie abed like some helpless kitten”, but Emma is firm that double pneumonia is no joking matter and refuses any other option but for him to submit and convalesce properly.  At first, Killian attempts to sneak out of bed and find clothes other than pajamas or to venture out and find something helpful to do – but the chills, nausea, and fever, coupled with lack of sleep he had suffered beforehand – leave him more weakened than he wants to admit.  When Henry starts pulling up a chair by the bed in the afternoons to read to him from the book, and when Snow arrives to bring him homemade soup accompanied by Dave who looks sheepish but genuinely concerned, Killian has no choice but to give in and let them prove their care for him.  Emma especially is always at his side, freshening cold compresses at his forehead, plying him with medicine and orange juice, or simply curling up beside him and stroking his back soothingly.

In this state, his guard finally falls completely and he rests, sleeping deeper and more soundly than he can remember doing for centuries.  He and Emma also bare any secrets, hurts, and dreams they have yet held onto alone.  Occasionally, in the watches of night, he or Emma might still wake choking back a scream from fresh horrors, but the other is always there, solid and real, and the instances grow fewer and further between.  

By the time Killian finally recovers from his illness, it feels like he has at last stepped free of the lingering darkness and is well – not just in body, but mind and soul.

“Well when you say it like that, it sounds bad. But I only meant that you shouldn’t stand there and recant a private moment, if that makes sense.” Emma nodded, more to keep her mother comfortable than because she understood the sentiment. It still sounded like the same watered down version of a promise, and Emma didn’t like that. If she and Killian had anything, it was an honest passion. They both felt strongly and struggled to ever shield that from the other. Why, then, would she shield some of that same fire and spark on their day?

“I think what your mother is trying to say, is that this is about the big stuff. You should talk about how you feel the strongest, not necessarily the little moments.” Emma smirked at her dad, thinking that comment in particular might have been more for his benefit, so that he could keep from hearing too much about Emma and Killian’s ‘quiet’ moments, but she saw that he believed it in his eyes and her shoulders sagged slightly.

Understanding that her parents, well intentioned as they were, were not going to be helpful, Emma made her excuses, claiming that she had rounds to complete of the town. Instead of seeking out crime, though, Emma continued to research. She made a stop at Granny’s and casually slipped the conundrum into conversation with Granny herself as she waited for her grilled cheese and onion rings.

“People often overlook the traditional vows, thinking that they need to include their own personal ones, but if you think about it, there’s a lot to be said for the basics. If you say those, and you insert the same kind of feeling and promise as you would something unique, a marriage is better off. People get so caught up in what makes them special, they forget that this union is still a marriage. It follows rules and guidelines.”

Emma found that interesting, mainly because she’d never considered just saying the traditional vows and leaving it there. Yet, where Granny saw sincerity, Emma saw coldness. Truth was, she loved Killian’s words, and if she didn’t say something, maybe he wouldn’t either. Perhaps that was selfish, but when she thought about her wedding, she didn’t see just in sickness and in health, she saw a painting made of words, a song from their professions. She saw magic, and not the kind that would come from just the generic status quo.

“That’s a load of bullshit. If you want my advice, go with a poem or song lyrics. There’s a whole bunch of dead people who have been in love too, and they got paid to put it into words. Don’t beat yourself up over yours.” Emma had to laugh at Leroy’s claims. She liked the idea of a quote somehow, but she wasn’t going to do a spoken word version of a classic rock song and call that her vows. That just seemed ridiculous.

“Well, thanks for the input.” Emma said as she handed Granny her cash and took the take-out bag.

“Which are you going to do?” Leroy asked and Emma shrugged.

“I guess we’ll see.” She headed back out into the sunny afternoon and considered if perhaps she could find the answers from somewhere else, and she noticed the library. Even if she didn’t use a quote, she might still find the answers in a book.

“Good morning, Emma,” Belle greeted as Emma walked inside. She was holding her beautiful baby boy as she pushed a book cart towards the stacks, and Emma readily offered assistance. Where Emma had assumed she’d be passed the books, she was passed the child instead.

“What can I help you with, Emma? Magical studies?” Emma shook her head, but then felt guilty for saying it out loud. Belle was the embodiment of the fact that sometimes love wasn’t enough and that marriage didn’t always last. Rumple had chosen power, and despite his insistence, Belle chose the light, especially when she had a child to be a role model for. Things had deteriorated, and now Belle was left with her son, going it alone. Emma didn’t want to bring up any unhappiness for Belle, but the brunette was perceptive.

“The wedding is only a few days away, so let me guess, you were thinking about your vows?” Emma nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I can look elsewhere or…” Belle waved her hand, and though she gave a sad smile, Emma could see the strength of her friend’s conviction as she responded.

“No, this is a great place to come if you need inspiration. But if you want my advice, the best thing you can do in your vows is speak your truth. Lay it all out there, Emma, your worries your past, the dreams you have for the two of you. Leave nothing unsaid, because it’s in denial that cracks form.” Emma came over to Belle and patted her arm in sympathy.

“Someday, you’re going to find love worthy of you, Belle. And until then, this little ray of sunshine will give you every ounce of love he has to give.” Belle smiled at that.

“I know. Maybe you and Killian will have a baby together soon too. I think our kids would be good friends, don’t you?” Emma was a little choked up at the thought but she nodded.

“Definitely. I should be going though.” Emma handed the baby back to Belle.

“Wait, you don’t need to see the books?” Emma smiled and shook her head.

“Actually, your advice was good enough for me. Thanks, Belle.” Her friend waved goodbye and Emma now had what she needed, she just needed to sit down and write it. In an attempt to do that, she headed to the station, pulled out a pad of paper and sprawled out, trying to figure out the right words to put on the page. Only, everything she wrote sounded cheesy.

She remained in the same problematic state when Regina came with Henry to pick up one of his school books that he’d forgotten at Emma’s that morning, and when the two of them found her this way, they couldn’t help but comment.

“Mom, is everything okay?” She looked up from the scribbled nonsense on the page and blushed a little, putting the paper aside.

“Yeah, just a little writer’s block.”

“Ah, for your vows,” Regina mused.

“Yeah. Well we all know that Killian has a way with words, while I… usually don’t.” Henry only grinned in response.

“Lucky for you that you have a son who’s an author then.” Emma considered that, but then thought better of it.

“That’s an incredibly kind offer, kid. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that these words of all words have to come from me.” Henry considered that, and then smiled.

“Yeah, that’s probably true.”

“Just don’t compare yourself to him,” Regina said and Emma looked at her.

“To Killian?” Regina nodded. “How can I not, we’ll literally be getting married.”

“Right, but you’re not marrying someone who is exactly the same as you. You have different strengths. Your pirate has charm and flashy words and an accent. You have other things to offer. Find those, and use them.” Emma mulled that over, and then it hit her, one of her strengths was that she was actually best when under pressure. Sure, she was always prepared, but when the chips were down, she trusted her instincts and went with her gut. These words would come to her in the moment, and to treat them as something other than that wasn’t realistic. Not for her anyways.

“Thanks, that actually helped a lot.”

“Regina is sometimes the bearer of good advice. Surprising I know.” Killian’s comment from the entryway had Emma turning and instantly smiling. He was leaning against the wall with that mirthful look in his eyes that always had her stomach flipping slightly. Though she heard Regina’s haughty rebuff, she knew it was all in good fun. The ex-Evil Queen and the land bound pirate had actually formed a sort of friendship since returning from the Underworld. Now all their barbs were tinted with jest instead of actual hostility.

“Good luck, Mom.” Henry said as he hugged Emma goodbye and Killian gave her a quizzical look over Henry’s that she ignored. When Henry and Regina were out of earshot, Killian made his move, slinking up beside her and running his hand along her hip, heating Emma through the cotton of her shirt.

“You need luck with something, love? Perhaps I can help.” She kissed him, throwing him off slightly, but it only took a moment for him to meet her in enthusiasm, when she pulled back, she was slightly breathless.

“You help me everyday, Killian. Trust me, this I can handle.”

“Alright, love.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again and Emma leaned in, enjoying the feel of him being there. Where the vows might confuse her, this never would. She understood them and this.

“Three days until I make you Mrs. Jones,” Killian whispered against her lips and her lips curled up in a smile.

“Let’s not jump the gun. I kind of like my last name already.” She was teasing, but she couldn’t help it, she loved to get a rise out of him.

“Emma, as long as you’re my wife. You can go by whatever you like.”

“Your permission is appreciated.” He scratched behind his ear, clearly uncomfortable.

“That’s not what I meant, Swan, I –“

“I was kidding. Jones works for me.” He smiled at that, and it was one of those ones reserved just for her, filled with love and hope and a distinct layer of bliss. With that, Emma extended her hand to him, which he readily took and they headed off to anxiously await the wedding to come.

…………………….

“I have to say, Mrs. Jones, that I am the luckiest man in the world to have you as mine.” Emma’s skin tingled and goose bumps broke out as Killian’s fingers traced the exposed flesh of her arms. Her ivory gown was made of a fine lace, and though not fairytale-like, it harked of a real world royalty. She had felt beautiful all day in it, and Killian had barely let a moment pass after the vows were said when they weren’t touching. All of that left her wanting and waiting for release, but he was going slow, drawing it out, heightening the impending pleasure. Emma ran her tongue across her lips, anticipating all that was to come.

She looked him over again, still loving the way he’d dressed in his signature black for the ceremony. She was glad that he’d managed a compromise between the styles of this world, and where his heart lay, and she was thinking wicked things about peeling back the layers of his three-piece suit. The vest in particular caused a stir in her, as the ones he wore every day always did.

“I didn’t do so bad either.” He smirked at that, but bent his head for a kiss, only to nip at her bottom lip and pull back away, turning her in his arms swiftly, so her back was to his front. Though there was little space between them, Killian worked at the zipper of her dress, finding the hidden metal quickly and opening the dress that had fit her like a glove all night. As the cool night air kissed more and more of her skin, she heard his sharp intake of breath. No doubt he had found her special surprise for him. Her strapless bra and panties selected for the day were also lace, barely there, and red.

“You’ll drive your husband to an early grave with gifts like this, Swan.” She closed her eyes, both from the feel of his callused hand pushing off her dress, and from the endearment. His voice was thick with lust, the tone gravely and raw, but it was the word itself that held all the power. She was glad he wouldn’t let it go, since when he’d said it all the time she’d known him, it had carried so much meaning. A name that had once been little more than the wishful thinking of a could-be family was made whole through him whether he was teasing, or sincere, or filled with lust. She always wanted to be his Swan, and now she knew that she would be.

“Says the one who’s going so slow, I’m about to combust.” His lips came to the crook between her neck and shoulder, and she eased back so he’d have better access. Her dress pooled around her feet, and the feel of his still clothed body against her nearly bare one sent more chills down her spine. Meanwhile Killian’s hand traveled lower, passing the thong she had on and zoning in on her clit. She was already so needy for attention there that she couldn’t help but purr at the feeling. He could get her off like this alone if he so chose, and God, did she hope he had mercy and did just that.

“As this shall be our one and only wedding night, it seems in our best interest to savor every last moment.” The circles he drew around her needy bud had her craving more and her hands came around her back in a motion so swift that she eluded him to unclasp her bra. As expected, the reveal of her breasts pulled a groan from him and moved things faster. He pulled her closer, and triggered her climax, biting on her shoulder at the same time, causing his name to tumble out as a cry from his lips.

“You don’t play fair, love.” She smiled before turning in his embrace and going for the buttons on his vest. The jacket, was gone by this point, but she needed the contact of skin on skin, and if she was doomed to a night of slow pleasurable torture, she was damn well going to feel his skin on hers to spark that satiny heat that only flesh could.

“Marriage is supposed to be all about compromise.” He smiled at that, letting her strip the vest from his person.

“I’ve heard that once or twice, but I also know, that when you’ve given me control, you’ve never gone wanting in our bed.” Her throat was dry and her sex grew wetter at the statement. The flimsy material still between her legs was likely soaked because he was right. He knew her wants and desires even before she did, playing every sensation, every emotion so spectacularly well that sex became a revelation. In that cheesy, cliché way, it became making love though it was still hot and slick and wickedly good.

She’d now unbuttoned his shirt and looked at his chest and abs, exposed for her perusal. She couldn’t help but run a hand across the muscles there, and felt the slight tense as her hand made initial contact. She smiled, stepping nearer, her lips so close to his, but holding back.

“The same can be said for when I take the lead, Captain.” She felt the shiver that went through him, and watched him lick his lips. Tempted as she was, she used her other hand to pull him down for a kiss that she knew would burn hot enough to incite him to action. He liked to play at slow and meticulous, but they could have that later. Now she wanted a declaration of everything she felt in her heart to manifest physically. He seemed to understand that this was a driving need within her and picked up on the shift from play to necessity.

They made their way to the bed, and where Emma planned to magic off the thin material still covering between her legs, she instead had the distinct pleasure of watching Killian tear them off.

“Those were expensive,” Emma said breathily, not actually giving a damn, and instead loving the primitive display.

“I’ll buy you dozens to replace them, Swan, and rip them all off just so.” Emma moaned as he kissed down her body and angled his mouth to her waiting heat, pausing only to grin against her before fucking her with his mouth. It was glorious and rough and an excellent demonstration of all the little things he’d learned about her. Like how she loved when he sucked on her clit, and how rough strokes coupled with soft delicate swirls always set her ablaze. Emma could actually feel the crackling energy of her magic pressing at the surface of her skin, that’s how fiercely the fire inside of her burned. She wanted to watch him, loving the almost predatory gaze he saved for her in these moments, but it was all too much. She closed her eyes as he pushed her past the edge.

“I love you.” She said, as he came back up above her. She ran a hand through the messy locks of his dark hair and her thumb came along his cheek. He leaned into her touch, and for the second time that day, her eyes filled with tears.

“Happy tears I hope, love,” he said as he kissed her lightly.

“The happiest.” As she shook away the pools of moisture though, a thought occurred to her. Though right now, this felt like one of the best days she’d ever known, and likely ever would. There could be more – would be more – and one of those days didn’t need to be so far in the distance.

“Remember that talk we had when we got back from the Underworld?” Killian’s eyes grew wider and he nodded.

“The one about more children.”

“I think we’re ready,” she whispered and he grinned.

“You’re sure, Emma?” She nodded.

“Yes, I’m sure.” The understanding between them tinged the already flowing desire between them with something more. This was now more than a promise, but an attempt to make their future bigger and brighter. With each thrust into her, Emma thought about how Killian was giving her forever, and was now trying to give her even more. The crazy big family that they already had would grow, and she’d get a second chance, to do things right, and to do them with someone who loved her by her side. The thoughts were heady, and catapulted her to climax quickly, with Killian following just behind.

“There has never been another love as great as mine for you, Emma.” Killian whispered some time later as he held her close to him. She smiled nuzzling closer, relishing his warmth, but when her innocent attempts at snuggling had him getting hard again already, Emma felt a call to act. Like her husband – wow, he was really her husband – she too loved a challenge. The one in front of her tonight, was to make their time together pure magic over and over and over again.

Hours later, as the reprieve of sleep pulled at Emma, she couldn’t help but remember earlier that day, when she’d held Killian’s hand in hers and made her promises. She had worried for nothing, because doing things her way had lit up the deep blue of his eyes to a new shade that was nothing short of exultant. As her own eyes closed, the words she’d chosen filtered through her mind and lulled her into a wonderful dream.

‘People have been trying to tell me who I was my whole life – an orphan, a girl, a felon, a mother, a savior. Some of those things have been a gift and others a burden. I thought I was supposed to push back, to stake out my own determined path, and sometimes I have, but after everything, it’s hard to argue that some things aren’t simply meant to be. Some things are simply destined, and luckily for me, my life has turned out better than I could have ever hoped, because I have you by my side.

‘But if my destiny was to be the savior, so was yours. In so many ways, Killian, you have become my salvation. You love me through my fear, and through my doubt. You hold my hand when times are darkest, and you faced the darkness in you so that we both could rid ourselves of demons. I will spend every day for the rest of my life loving you, fighting for our love and making sure that you know that the scared little girl I once was found strength in you. The path may not be clear, but my dreams for us are, and the biggest one of all, is that we find our happily ever after, which starts today. I love you Killian, for now and for always, and I wanted to thank you for loving me as you do. I will never be able to say how much it means, but I will do my best to show you each and every day.’

………………………..

Do you know how they say, how they say in the movies? Once you stop searching love will come your way Never again will I let someone in, I said "I might've just jumped the gun"

Dancing alone might've been fun before you came to realize The lights went out but your silhouette appeared in my sight

You took my heart You're my salvation You lift me up You're my salvation You're my salvation

I do recall, I never thought anything could ever change So easy giving up on hope with all the love in you Just waiting to be found, I might've just jumped the gun

Walking alone might've been cool before you came to realize The lights went out but your silhouette appeared in my sight

You took my heart You're my salvation You lift me up You're my salvation You're my salvation

Dancing Da-da-dancing Da-dance-dance Da-da-da Dancing Da-da-dancing Da-dance-dance Da-da-da Da-da-da Dancing

You took my heart You're my salvation You lift me up You're my salvation You're my salvation

Dancing alone might've been fun before you came to realize The lights went out but your silhouette appeared in my sight You're my salvation

“And what can I get for you, Emma? Rocky Road?” The server behind the counter smiled at Emma, who had blatantly missed everyone else’s order. She knew that if she looked over her shoulder, Killian would be grinning and she bit her lip to keep from laughing herself.

“Actually I think I’ll try the flavor of the month.” Emma ignored the surprised glances from the rest of her family and happily accepted the cone of peanut butter cookies and cream. This was absolutely not what her usual fare would be, but she was up for the challenge. Just as Emma was about to taste it, Killian spoke again.

“Funny thing about ice cream, Swan. The flavor lingers for a while after. Have you noticed that?” Jesus they were with her family, and though the wording was innocent enough, his tone definitely was not PG material. She was damned near fanning herself.

“Can’t say I have,” Emma replied breathily. Killian reached past her to get his cone careful to brush against her slightly and smiled lazily at her.

“Perhaps you will this time.”

Emma couldn’t decide if she wanted to drag him out of the store and yell at him for teasing her when there was nothing they could do about it, or kiss him to turn the tables. She opted instead to let him lead her to the table where her family sat. His playfulness could be dealt with later.

“Something wrong with your ice cream, Emma?” David asked a little while later.

Her father’s question caused Emma to shake her head and look down so no one would see her blush. She tasted it and found she rather liked it. Unconscious of any possible problem in doing so, Emma licked at the ice cream as her family happily talked of everything they hoped to do this summer. Then Killian was whispering in her ear again, and she froze mid swipe.

“If you’re trying to drive me mad out of some sort of revenge, you’re doing a bloody good job of it, Swan.”

Emma smirked at that confession and took care to savor the treat just a little more slowly. Nothing racy, hell she was with her kid after all, but if Killian was going to get all bent out of shape over it, she could enjoy that as she partook in the melting treat.

“What can I say, I love ice cream.”

Emma licked at her lips and watched his eyes track the movement and then, as she watched the heat in his eyes kick into overdrive, she turned away to the rest of the table. That’s what he got for messing with her when they couldn’t possibly act on it.

“Realistically speaking,” her mother began, “How long could the town survive without us?”

“All of us?” Emma asked, looking around the table. Could the town survive five minutes alone with no Charmings watching out for them? No Regina and Robin Hood? No Belle? Hell – no savior and her pirate?

“Yeah. I mean I hear such good things about the Cape. Wouldn’t it be nice to get out of town for a little bit?” Snow asked eagerly.

“That sounds lovely.” Belle’s wistful comment pulled at Emma’s heartstrings, and she wished for her friend that they could get out of town, if just for a little bit. Something to take her mind off the reality she’d been faced with over the past few months.

“I haven’t been a hero for an exceptionally long time,” Killian began, “But I think even the good guys deserve a break now and then.”

“Especially those of us who still had to go to school.” Henry was nearly finished with the huge sundae he’d managed to swindle and Emma blinked at the comment. He had a point after all.

“I agree, the heroes need reprieve.” Robin’s chorus insured that Regina was on board and now the table looked to Emma.

“Do you all need my stamp of approval?” Emma asked. She felt Killian’s hook playing with a tendril of her hair.

“Undoubtedly, love.”

Damn him for that lilt in his already too-attractive voice! The uptick in her heart rate and the slight dizziness that came when she heard it undermined Emma’s ability to think of the pitch seriously. She looked around the table and everyone seemed so hopeful. How could she take that away from them? Then she looked at Killian and saw that there was no teasing in his eyes, only a sincere wish to know what she wanted.

“Fine, that actually sounds fun. We’d have to talk to Granny, though. She’s the only one I’d trust to leave in charge.” The others readily agreed and spoke amongst themselves happily while she felt Killian move his chair just slightly closer to her.

“You are seriously testing the limit today, you know that?” Emma asked and her Captain grinned as a reply.

“Does a limit really exist, love?”

Emma pretended to think about that as she ate more of her ice cream. Then a flash of inspiration struck and she had an idea. For it to work, though, she’d have to be less than an open book – at least to the rest of her family. She pushed away from Killian and the table abruptly and stood up.

“You guys keep planning. I just realized I forgot something.” Emma kept her tone even but tried to stress the important nature of this fake errand she had. Her Mother looked concerned.

“Do you need any help?” Emma shook her head.

“No, it has to be me. I’ll be back soon.” With that, Emma took her ice cream cone and headed out of the store and down the street quickly. Once past the brick storefront, she turned into the alley way beside the building and waited. It took all of twenty seconds for her roguish pirate to appear.

“What kind of business could you possibly have in an alley, Swan?”

Killian’s tone was genuinely confused and that made the next part all the more fun. Throwing her cone to the ground, and pulling him to her by the leather of his jacket, she closed the space between them and kissed him. It was by no means tame or sweet, but rough and hot, a dueling between the two of them for pleasure and control. Emma felt like she might lose her mind when he growled against her and pushed her against the brick façade. Now caught between the hard stone behind her and him, she wanted more contact, more friction, just more.

“You were right.” Emma’s comment when they finally pulled apart had Killian blinking at her curiously. She loved him like this, caught between pleasure and serenity and just marginally slower to understand her.

“I often am, love. But pray tell, what was it this time?”

“Ice cream lingers.”

Then Emma licked her lips again in front of him, knowing it would bring his lips crashing down to hers in no time at all. She wasn’t disappointed when they found their way down to hers, and his hand and hook wandered over her skin, which she wished was more exposed. Out of the corner of her mind, Emma heard the tinkling of the store’s bell and then the chatter of her family. She pulled back and whispered to him.

“Be completely silent.”

With a flick of Emma’s wrist, a cloud of white magic crossed the opening of the alleyway then evaporated. Just then, her family walked by and though Robin and her father looked down the miniature street, Emma and Killian weren’t detected. Emma scarcely risked breathing, especially when Regina was passing because the woman knew her magic far better than Emma did, but they all passed with no one the wiser.

Emma looked up at Killian and saw him watching her with a happy sort of wonder. It was the same look he’d given her many times before, but the frequency at which he bestowed it never diluted it’s meaning to her. The fluttering of desire within her came back with a vengeance. He was still close enough to kiss her with only the slightest movement forward.

“Well done, Swan. How much longer do you think we have before they grow suspicious?” Emma was going to answer and he surprised her, with his tongue dragging along her bottom lip. “What? Just tasting. I rather liked the favor you chose.”

“Fuck it,” she said as she pulled him back to her.

This chemistry and love between them was better than whatever else they had in store today, like making the rounds in the sheriff’s cruiser or prepping for the next problem that would no doubt come for the town. So for now, Emma let herself get wrapped up in the feel of Killian as a physical reminder that she loved and was loved. It was magical.

In the end, neither of them could be completely sure how long they stayed there for, but Emma was certain of one thing: she was never going to look at ice cream the same way after today.

……………… Your love, don't need to sugarcoat it You make me rush, get me up all night And when I taste it I want more than just a little bit You fill me up, baby it's alright Gorgeous Baby come on into my open arms Gorgeous Every time you need me all my buttons come undone You make me lick my lips You're my favorite flavor When we kiss I just wanna savor Every drop of it, I can't get enough You make me lick my lips, my lips I'm on top when I'm with you so exciting I can't deny, you make me feel so good You're my jam, I wanna turn you up louder Now let me see what's underneath that hat Gorgeous Baby come on into my open arms Gorgeous Any time you need me all my buttons come undone You make me lick my lips You're my favorite flavor When we kiss I just wanna savor Every drop of it, I can't get enough You make me lick my lips, my lips Baby you're the only one I need Won't you come and put your lips on me You make me lick my lips You're my favorite flavor When we kiss I just wanna savor Every drop of it, I can't get enough You make me lick my lips, my lips You make me lick my lips You're my favorite flavor When we kiss I just wanna savor Every drop of it, I can't get enough You make me lick my lips, my lips