#I haven’t even finished watching game play on hades 2 yet so I could be wrong ik the game isn’t finished but that what im gathering | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shireness-says · 6 years ago

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If I Could See Your Face Once More (4/6)

Summary: This time, there’s no celebration at Granny’s when the latest crisis has been resolved. Instead, they’re left to deal with the body of Killian Jones. A 5B canon divergence where Killian dies in Camelot, never becoming a Dark One. Rated T for language. Also on AO3. ~8.3K. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

A/N: I’m sorry for what’s about to happen. I promise I’ll fix it.

Thanks to @snidgetsafan for beta-ing, even if she’s mad at me, and to @csmarchmadness for getting me posting this in the first place. I’ll have the 5th chapter up as soon as I finish it.

Tagging: @thejollyroger-writer, @profdanglaisstuff, @captainsjedi, @ultraluckycatnd, @superchocovian, @snowbellewells, @killianjones4ever82, @wellhellotragic, @ohmakemeahercules, @let-it-raines, @lifeinahole27. Shoot me a message if you want to be added to the list!

Thanks for reading - let me know what you think!

Seeing Hades standing in the library, threatening the boy Killian views as a son, is the stuff of nightmares. Killian so distinctly remembers every blow, every cut, every bruise inflicted upon him in the god’s cavernous lair; he remembers, despite Hades’ suave exterior, exactly how furious he got when Killian refused to beg for mercy. It makes Killian’s blood run even colder within his dead veins to see that same… demon masquerading as man anywhere near Henry.

Hades mentioned a proposition, but Killian isn’t interested. “We’re not interested in deals, tyrant,” he growls back.

The god only hums though, like he’s got a secret. It just might worry Killian even more than the deal itself. “Are you sure? You might think differently once you have all the information. Reconsider, if you will.” Hades rolls his eyes as Belle pulls Henry further behind her across the room. “Honestly, you’ve got to stop that. What, you think I’m going to smite the kid down? Not my style.”

“What aren’t you telling us?” David demands, ignoring their enemy’s flat attempt at reassurance. Killian’s wondering the same thing - Emma’s father has always just been a bit more blunt about things. Not one for banter, that one.

“I’m sure you’ve discovered my lovely gift already? The personalized headstones? I’ve always been one for that personal touch, you know.” Hades, on the other hand, prefers to yammer away, in love with theatrics and the sound of his own voice. Killian would much rather he just get to the bloody point. “As time’s gone by, though, I’ve really found myself thinking I just didn’t do quite enough. I mean, you’ve got a child with you! How rude of me not to cater to the youth!”

“You didn’t,” Regina growls, as realization slowly dawns on all of them. Oh, gods. Killian feels sick to his stomach.

“Oh, but I did,” Hades confirms, smiling that slimy grin at the collected crowd as Belle instinctively holds Henry tighter. “Like I said: I don’t need to do any of that messy smiting business. Not when I can just add dear Henry’s name to one of those monuments. Neater, don’t you think?”

“You son of a bitch,” Killian spits. Only Emma’s tight grip on his hand and Liam throwing a cautionary arm across his chest keeps him from throwing himself at Hades, and he can spot the same blazing rage in everyone’s eyes. “I’ll kill you, I swear I will, you demon.”

“Good luck with that,” Hades replies, rolling his eyes. “We can either go that route - which won’t work, by the way, in case you’ve haven’t forgotten our lovely little interlude on my home turf before - or you can listen to my proposition.”

“We’re listening,” Liam says, casting a warning look in Killian’s direction. Hear him out, he’s silently saying. Know what you’re up against.

“The way I see it, you’ve got something I want, and I’ve got something you want. So, just give me the Olympian Crystal, and I’ll be happy to wipe all those headstones clean. Hell, I’ll even throw in a portal to get you all home in, say,” he makes a great show of looking at an oversized watch, “two hours.”

It’s a good deal, Killian knows. There had always been some uncertainty around how they would escape the Underworld once they had found a way to revive him, and now that Henry has been tossed into this mess… well, that’s non-negotiable. Henry’s safety, the safety of both his children comes before anything else. Killian would gladly throttle Hades with his bare hands, but not at Henry’s expense.

Emma’s always been an all-or-nothing type of woman, however. “And Killian?” she demands.

“Well, I can’t let a soul that’s rightfully mine just waltz out of here, you know. It’s just not good for business. I think I’ve been more than generous,” the god protests.

Emma looks like she’s about to snap and turn down the deal, but Killian interrupts before she gets the chance. “Give us a moment to talk.”

“Oh, of course. Important decisions, I understand. I’ll just be over here,” Hades says, poofing himself into one of the library chairs. Showoff. With their threat sedately seated to the side, crossing his legs in a deceptively casual manner, Belle and Henry take this moment to dart across the room to where everyone else is standing. Killian draws Henry into his arms just as soon as he’s close enough. The poor lad looks pale and worried, and all Killian wants is to alleviate that concern as much as he can.

(It also might be one of the last times Killian holds his boy if they take this deal like he thinks they should, but Killian is trying not to think about that yet.)

“You can’t seriously be thinking about taking Hades’ deal,” Emma hisses. “We are not leaving without you.”

“I’m more than thinking about it; I’ve made my decision. Emma, love, we’ve got to take his deal, it’s the only way,” he begs.

“I refuse to accept that. We came down here to save you, Killian, and I don’t intend to give up.”

“Emma, please,” he begs. “I love you, and I want to come home with you more than anything, but things have changed. It’s been bad enough to have your name on one of those tombstones, but Henry’s… I can’t live with myself, knowing that he’s trapped down here when there was another way to make sure you’re all safe. Henry’s safety has to be non-negotiable.” Killian looks around for support, desperate for any backup.

He finds it in an unexpected place. “He’s right, Emma,” Snow, the queen of hope herself, says softly. “We don’t have a plan for getting out of here, not really, and we definitely don’t have a way to remove our names from the headstones. This would solve both. I know you don’t want to leave Killian behind - none of us do, sweetheart. But you have to think of Henry, and the baby, and what’s best for them.”

“If we accept this, though… we give up our chance to save Killian,” Emma whispers, tears pooling at the bottom of her eyes and starting to slip down her cheeks. Killian can’t help but reach out to catch those tears; it’d be working against every instinct he possesses to deny that impulse to try and ease her pain.

“Actually,” Belle cuts in, “that might not be strictly true.” All eyes turn her direction, by turns curious and hopeful. “Henry and I think we found another way. I don’t want to say anything with Hades right over there but… we think there’s another way.”

“And it’s doable in that 2 hour window?” Robin asks.

“I believe so.”

“There’s really no question then, my love,” Killian says, just for Emma. Privately, he’s less hopeful about this last chance, but he can’t say that now, when his love is looking for any excuse to refuse the bargain. “Accept Hades’ deal. It’ll all work out, somehow.”

“I love you,” she says with a wobbly smile.

“And I you, my Swan.”

It feels like one of the ridiculous sports games Dave once forced him to watch as they uncluster from their tight huddle again. If not for the circumstances, it might almost make Killian laugh. But the circumstances are what they are, and it’s impossible to really embrace the humor when they’re about to possibly go bargain his resurrection away.

“So if we give you the stupid Crystal, you’ll let us go?” Emma demands, grasping Killian’s hand and refusing to let go. “Names cleared, one portal, no loopholes?”

“No loopholes,” Hades promises. The bastard even has the gall to look insulted at the implication he’d play anything but fair. “I’m a deity of my word, you know. I’ll even toss in a couple extra minutes to say goodbye, free of charge, just so the expiration lands on a nice neat quarter hour. Give me the Crystal, and the portal will open at 8:15pm.”

Emma still hesitates. Killian can understand that; even if they both know what must happen, putting that officially into motion is still hard. He squeezes her hand - in solidarity, in encouragement, in love, in everything else, and with a final nod, Emma finally takes the plunge.

“We’ll take your deal, then.”

“Excellent,” Hades grins, even such a happy gesture dripping with ooze on him. “I’ll take my prize, then.”

After a last pause, Emma reluctantly hands the Crystal over. In Hades’ hands, it briefly glows as if suddenly activated before becoming just a hunk of rock again. Killian tries to comfort himself with the fact that maybe that glow means they wouldn’t have been able to use the Crystal after all, even if it was still in their possession; it doesn’t work very well. The god waves his other hand in an almost dismissive gesture once he has the crystal, and what feels like a ripple of power chases through the room. That must have been him removing the headstones; Killian sure hopes so, otherwise they’re all doubly screwed.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” quips Hades. “Your portal will open an hour before in the cemetery and close at 8:15 on the dot, no transfers, no take backs, only one small carry-on allowed, take only pictures, leave only footprints, yada yada yada. Have a nice life.” And with another hand gesture, he disappears in a puff of red-tinged smoke.

“Well that was excessive,” Regina comments dryly. That might be the understatement of the year. “Now, Henry, what did you and Belle discover?”

“We think we figured out where the ambrosia bush is!” Henry bursts out, the excitement of his accomplishment practically seeping from his pores.

“Well done, lad!” congratulates Killian, slinging an affectionate arm around his boy’s shoulders.

“Not to be the skeptical one here, because I really do hope you have, but what makes you think you’ve discovered the ambrosia bush, Henry?” Robin asks. He truly doesn’t mean it as a criticism, Killian knows; Robin is just a practical sort, a man who likes having a plan before he rushes into a situation, unlike so many of these other heroes Killian’s thrown his lot in with.

Belle smiles though, as if to reassure Robin that no offense has been taken. “Well, we started thinking about all the places here in the Underworld and back in Storybrooke that are really significant. Like how Hades’ lair and the River of Souls are beneath the library. There were places we ruled out easily, like the diner or the well or Regina’s crypt, but then —”

“The mines!” Henry interrupts, before apologizing sheepishly to Belle. “We just thought… you know, the fairy dust comes from the mines. That’s, like, one of the town’s sources of magic. So we got to thinking… what if they’re hiding some other natural magic?”

“There are some curious stories about the mines,” Liam adds thoughtfully. “People have been known to go in and not come back out. It stands to reason.”

“We looked at the maps, and found a dead-end tunnel,” Belle continues. “There was also a mention in one of the books about some odd mechanisms in one of the tunnels. We think perhaps it’s some sort of door.”

“Perhaps to a secret, fabled plant,” Killian finishes. “Brilliant, lass.” It’s a long shot, certainly, but it’s also the best lead they have - especially when they’ve got a two hour time limit and no other options.

“Okay, so Killian and I will go see about the ambrosia, while the rest of you collect our things. And, you know, the baby and Zelena. We’ll meet you in the cemetery.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Emma’s father asks. “You two going off on your own like that?”

“Maybe it’s not, but someone needs to keep an eye on Henry, and I remember how tightly you stuffed those backpacks when we came down in the first place. We’ll be fine,” Emma replies.

“Are you sure?” Snow cuts in. “Your father or I would be happy to come with you —”

“It’s fine, Mom. Seriously, we’ll meet you by Regina’s crypt when we’re done.”

Somehow, she manages to convince Snow to leave and follow Regina and Robin out. Before Henry trails along after, Killian pulls him into a tight embrace.

“I’m proud of you, my boy,” he whispers into Henry’s hair. Gods willing, the ambrosia will be exactly where Henry and Belle think it is, will be the answer to all their prayers, but Killian’s not taking any chances. If worst comes to worst, and this is the last time he sees Henry, Killian wants to imprint every detail into his very soul.

“Thanks,” Henry mumbles back, before pulling back with determination glinting in his eyes. “It’s going to work, you know. It has to.”

“Ah, well of course it will if the Truest Believer decrees it so,” Killian smiles back, forcing all of his worry down to give Henry this moment. “Now, why don’t you go ask that brother of mine about the time he sent us all chasing after a sea monster?”

Henry happily leaps off to catch up to where Liam waits at the door. Catching his brother’s eye, they exchange nods. Liam will keep an eye on the lad, make sure he doesn’t run off into any foolhardy side quests.

“A sea monster?” Emma asks at his side, her tone somewhere between confusion and amusement.

“A particularly clever dolphin, as it turns out,” he explains. “At the time Liam was absolutely convinced we had discovered some mystical new creature. Blatantly abused his new power as captain to go chasing the bloody thing. You didn’t want your parents’ assistance?” he volleys back.

“I mostly wasn’t in the mood for some dramatic hope speech,” Emma admits. “Or Dad trying to, like, fight the door. Or something. I love them, but if time is of the essence or whatever you’d say…”

“I understand completely,” Killian chuckles. “We’ve always made a good team, you and I.” And they have - right from the beginning, even before the romance and the second chances and the deep, undying love, they’d always worked more effectively together than any other way. It should have been a sign, right there back on the beanstalk; Killian is only glad he embraced it before it was too late.

The trek from the library to the mine entrance is quicker than Killian expected, just down to the end of Main Street before walking down a wooded path. It’s probably overreacting to try and help Emma over and around every minor obstacle in their way - roots and stones and the like - but he does anyways, trying to infuse his love and concerned affection into every touch. If the way Emma smiles even as she rolls her eyes is any indication, she knows that already, has accepted it. Now is the time to hover, anyways; as much as Killian tries not to think about how these could be their last minutes together, it proves impossible to entirely banish that pesky little whispering voice from his head. Instead, he caters to the voice by trying to memorize every little detail of her hands - the little spots of dry skin between her fingers and the half-formed calluses where her fingers and palm meet and the odd little scar further down her palm that he knows is from a childhood tumble on rough gravel, not to mention the very specific way she likes to weave their fingers together (her pinky on the outside, always on the outside, or she’ll untangle them just to rearrange them the way she likes). He loves every part of her - every silly little detail that seems so frivolous and unimportant to anyone else but is everything to him.

(She’s everything to him. Gods, he hopes this works, because he’s tried an afterlife without her already and could barely stand it. He doesn’t know what he’ll do, if this doesn’t work.)

The mines themselves are a dark series of tunnels carved into what must have been an existing cave that mostly remind Killian of why he’s glad to be a man of the seas. Even with the electrical switch flipped to switch on a rickety, buzzing series of bulbs, the atmosphere is cloying and claustrophobic, every surface rough from where the tunnels were hewn directly from the stone.

“Careful, love,” he cautions, carefully making his way down ahead of her to test for uneven ground.

Her returning eye roll is less affectionate this time. “I’ve been down to the mines before, Killian,” she reminds him. “Remember how I slayed a dragon? I’m fine.”

The words are rather undermined by a subsequent stumble, making Killian huff in fond exasperation. Bloody stubborn woman. At least it’s an excuse to draw Emma in close against his side - for safekeeping and for comfort.

“I don’t know how you think you’ll be able to handle the map like this,” she grumbles as Killian’s fingers begin stroking gently along her side, just in that place between her bony hip and the soft curve of the Bean.

“Simple. I’ll let you hold it instead,” he replies, only half jokingly. Time is of the essence, but handling the map seems like such a waste when he could be imprinting the feel of her skin between every ridge of his fingertips.

“Smartass,” she mutters with a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

It’s the easiest thing in the world, even facing such a terrifying uncertainty, to drop a soft kiss on the side of Emma’s head. “And you love me for it.”

“I do,” she sighs dramatically, before stretching to kiss the back ridge of his jaw in turn. It’s always been one of her favorite spots when it’s just the two of them. Killian pulls Emma even closer against his side as she does so, closing his eyes to better savor the moment.

(It’s not the last, it’s not the last, it can’t possibly be the last… but what if it is? What if he’s forced to live off the memory of her soft lips against the corner of his jaw for the rest of eternity?)

The darkness and close quarters of the mine become no less cloying the deeper they travel, and Killian finds himself clinging to Emma not just for her own safety, but to impart a sense of security to himself as well. In the cave-like environment, the only constants are her warmth against his side and the rocky path they walk along continuously sloping downwards. The map proves to be a blessing as tunnels split again and again, creating a confusion of passageways they’d never have been able to navigate without Henry and Belle’s careful charting. Eventually, the bulbs run out when they get too deep into the maze of the mine, replaced instead by torches, somewhat reminiscent of his and Emma’s little adventure to the past and to Regina’s dungeons. By some miracle, Killian finds a bar matchbook in one of his jacket’s pockets, keeping Emma from having to use her magic. She’s grown more confident again in its use, and more convinced the worst of her exhaustion spells are over, but Killian is decidedly less persuaded. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to his love and the Bean all the way down here. Emma may roll her eyes at the way he frantically starts patting at pockets until he finds the matches, but it really does make him feel better about the situation. Once one is lit, it’s just a matter of continuing to light wall torches along the rest of their way as necessary until they reach the end of their journey through the mines.

Their path finally leads to an elevator, of all things. The walls are even closer down here, barely excavated, and as they squeeze past a last outcropping before the chamber widens for the elevator doors, it’s easy for Killian to understand how this isn’t common knowledge. It’s not something anyone would stumble across on accident by any means. Curiously, he notes that the elevator itself looks an awful lot like the one in the library, both down here and up above in the real world. It’s obvious that contrary to appearances, there is some greater design to this place, even if just in the initial structure.

Killian has some mild concern about the stability of the car, but when he cautiously steps a foot in and allows his weight to shift onto the metal platform, it holds without issue, barely shifting at his weight. Reassured as to the safety of the conveyance, he can finally reach back for Emma. “Milady?” he offers with a smile as he extends a hand back in her direction. It’s such a small thing, but so worth it for the laugh Emma emits as she grasps his hand and boards the elevator car. He’ll do anything to hear that laugh.

“I hope you know how to work this thing,” she jokes, “because I sure as hell don’t.”

It’s easy enough to operate, as things turn out. Though there is a hand crank attached to one wall, the car begins its descent as soon as the cage gate is closed, eliminating the need for any effort on their part. That’s a relief, frankly - Killian’s not sure how well he would have been able to turn the crank with just his one hand, and allowing Emma to do it herself is far out of the question, at least if Killian has any say in it. It feels like the ride downwards takes forever, despite the surprisingly rapid speed, but they pass it in silence, Killian choosing to express himself in the soft rub of his thumb against the back of Emma’s hand as they descend rather than with words.

It’s damn near impossible to see more than a foot beyond their faces when the elevator opens, even with the torch held aloft, but as he and Emma begin lighting the other torches conveniently spread along the walls, he’s pleased to discover that they’re in a wide open space. The persistent feeling of dread still niggles within his empty chest, but the greater space at least helps abate the feeling that the entire world is collapsing in on him, ready to crush him and Emma deep within the earth. A massive set of doors dominates one side of the doors, covered

with intricate metalwork; the lack of evident hinges would suggest that the portal opens inwards, away from the chamber they currently inhabit, but when Killian experimentally presses against the panels, he’s met with resistance. From the feel of things, the door is barred from the opposite side. He shouldn’t be surprised, really; if the contents of the inner chamber are as powerful as they’re rumored to be, a plant with the power to restore life back to the dead, it would stand to reason that there would be some challenge or test to acquire it.

Perhaps that’s where the other device in the room comes in - a set of scales upon a circular table, this one with words in a foreign script encircling the edge.

“Of course it can’t be in plain English,” Emma mutters, frowning ferociously at the inscription. When Killian gets closer though, something triggers in his head - half-remembered lessons from long ago.

“Only a heart filled with true love may pass,” he recites, the translation springing to his tongue more quickly than he anticipated.

“You can read… whatever that is?” Emma asks, raising a questioning eyebrow. He’s always liked to think she picked that up from him.

“Ancient Greek,” he clarifies. “You’d be surprised what they teach you in the Royal Navy.”

“Show-off,” she teases back affectionately. He hadn’t translated the words just to impress her, but as with everything in his life - afterlife? once, always, forever - it’s a lovely little side effect, the way her eyes widen in surprise and appreciation and she smiles like she’s proud of him. He loves that smile; he’d do a lot of things to see that smile. “Ok, well if that’s the case…” she trails off, before shaking out her hands and exhaling a heavy breath. He’s seen that body language before; it usually means she’s trying to ramp herself up to perform some massive feat of magic.

“Hold on a moment, love, what exactly are you doing?” he asks as gently as he can, attempting to disguise the naked alarm in his voice.

Emma just looks at him oddly. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“Honestly, darling, I’m not at all sure. Humor a man.”

“Only a heart filled with true love may pass. We need a heart. So, you know,” she waves a hand around, “I’ve got to extract mine real quick.”

“Absolutely not,” Killian protests. With the baby at stake, and Emma’s own exhaustion… absolutely not. There’s no way in hell he’ll allow it, no pun intended.

Emma just rolls her eyes in response. In other circumstances, Killian might find the gesture a little endearing in how quintessentially her it is, but this isn’t one of those moments. “Ok, well, what’s your idea, then? Because last I checked, you don’t have one right now.”

“That doesn’t mean you should just… reach in your chest and yank your own out!” he fires back. “There’s got to be another way.”

“What, with —” Emma checks the watch on her wrist, “sixty-five minutes left?” She fixes Killian with a pointed look, a what’s your brilliant idea, genius? look, until Killian finally sighs out his defeat. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I still don’t like it, Emma,” he replies more quietly. “I don’t want to put you in harm’s way any further than I already have, not to mention the babe. And I don’t...” He pauses, trying to collect all his worried thoughts into something resembling sense. “I believe we’re true love, and I certainly hope we are, but we can’t know that, Emma. What happens if we’re wrong? How do you know that this won’t all blow up in our faces?”

“I don’t,” she replies simply. “I just have to have faith that it will be fine,” Emma explains, turning to face Killian and grasping his hand. “See?” And without any further ado, she plunges her other hand into her own chest, wincing slightly as her hand disappears to the wrist. It’s all of Killian’s worst nightmares come to life, watching the woman he loves wince in pain as her heart is dislodged from its home beneath her breastbone. Even if he knows, consciously, that Emma’s in no real peril, that she’s removing such a vital organ herself, it brings back horrible memories of Milah’s death and sends panic rippling through his veins. Desperately, Killian tries to remind himself of the gentleness with which she held his own heart after the debacle with Gold and the Spell of Shattered Sight; surely, she’d treat her own heart with the same gentleness she’d granted his.

(Then again, she did also all but slam his heart back into his chest immediately afterwards. ‘Like a bandaid’, his arse; he’s still positive that the gesture was Emma’s own little revenge for all the worry he put her through, not that he can argue if it’s true.)

Emma seems blissfully unaware of the way the ghost of his heart has climbed into Killian’s throat, extracting her hand again with her jewel-red organ beating within her grasp. “See? Fine.”

He has to give her that, honestly; Emma isn’t even winded, and as nervous as it makes Killian to see his love’s heart outside of where it belongs in her chest, he has to say that it’s beautiful. Unlike his own heart, streaked through with dark wisps of all the terrible things he’s done in his long life, Emma’s is a brilliant crimson, mesmerizing to watch. He can just see the way it gently pulses within her palm, visibly calmer than anything he can muster at the moment.

Emma must notice the fascination with which he watches the beating muscle within her hands, as she holds her heart out to him. What symbolism. “Here, you take it,” she offers, practically shocking Killian out of his boots.

“Oh no, I couldn’t —” he tries to protest, but Emma’s always been a stubborn one, and before he knows it she’s grabbing his hand and tipping the pumping muscle into it. He cradles it against his chest on instinct, making sure to keep his hook arm far, far away; the last thing they need is for him to accidentally nick her heart as he tries to hold it. It’s precious, after all, and so small and fragile; as Killian cradles the organ to his body, there’s a passing, hysterical thought that if he actually makes it out of the Underworld, this kind of careful handling might be good practice for the Bean. He’s sure there’s panic in his eyes as he meets Emma’s gaze, but she just smiles back as if to calm him back down.

“I trust you,” she says simply, as if they’re not the biggest words in the world. Sure, he’s known on a certain level that she does indeed trust him, between the Wicked Witch and Camelot and I’m going to choose to see the best in you, but it’s another thing to hear the words. She loves him, too, and the thought of that alone is enough to make Killian giddy, but love and trust are so often wildly different things, especially where his love is concerned; it leaves him a little bit in awe, knowing that he’s somehow earned it.

Maybe he’s overthinking things, though, as Emma just stands there expectantly as he’s bowled over by emotion. “You gonna put it on the scales?” she asks, jolting Killian into motion.

“As you wish.” He hadn’t known the significance of those words when he’d first told her that what feels like an eternity ago in Neverland, but after several movie nights in those blissful six weeks of peace, he does now. Now, when he says the words, he means them most emphatically: I love you, I love you, I love you. She knows it, too, if the way she smiles just that little bit wider as he passes is any indication. That’s just as it should be; his Swan deserves to hear every iteration of those words, every day.

At the scales themselves, he tips her heart onto the unweighted side ever so carefully before standing back to watch and wait - for what, he’s not sure. For the doors to open, he supposes. It all seems so simple, though, and as the doors stay stubbornly closed, Killian wonders if this is the other shoe dropping, or if that’s yet to come.

Emma’s brows furrow in confusion. Killian can just see on her face that she’s already decided it’s impossible their love isn’t true, even as his own stomach plummets with the proof in front of them. “What the hell?” she mutters, stepping back towards the scales herself.

And that’s when it all really goes to hell.

Emma’s barely taken a step when she suddenly cries out in pain, hunching over and clutching at her chest as she gasps desperately for breath.

“Emma, what’s wrong?” he asks helplessly. “What’s wrong? Are you alright? Love, tell me.” She’s obviously not alright, and they’re such stupid words, but they’re all he can come up with in the moment, too worried to pay much attention to sense.

“My… heart…” she manages to gasp out, reaching for the organ only to cry out again, seemingly struck by another attack.

Even in his panic, it’s easy enough to connect the dots that the scale is somehow doing this to Emma, putting her in indescribably pain - Gods, maybe even killing her if he doesn’t do something right this moment. He doesn’t think twice before moving to snatch her heart back to the relative safety of his grasp - Emma, at least, seems to think it’s safe there, even if Killian is less sure of that. He’s hasn’t even finished taking his first step in that direction, however, when he’s stopped by a column of fire, the flames surrounding him and trapping him within their hold. If he feels the flames on his extremities, it’s easily dwarfed by the burning pain that feel like it’s engulfing him from the inside, eating into his soul and heart and everything that makes him him. He should be strong, suffer through it so Emma doesn’t have to add concern for him onto her own pain, but he can’t help the cry that slips out.

“Killian!” she gasps, her eyes widening with an even greater panic than before.

“Get your heart, Emma,” he pleads. There’s something in those same eyes that makes him think she’ll do something drastic to save him at her own expense, and that just can’t stand. She may not think so, but he’s the expendable one here - it’s crucial that she live, that their babe live, even if he’s charred to a crisp right here where he stands. “Emma, get your heart! Your heart!”

He can see her shifting her gaze back and forth between the scales and himself, even as the flames leap higher and send another burst of unbearable pain through his entire being. Killian preoccupies himself praying to any god that will take pity on him that Emma will dive for her heart, save herself. It’s just two steps; at this point, he doesn’t even care if they never open the doors and reach the fabled ambrosia, as long as Emma’s okay. That’s all that matters - all that’s ever mattered, and if she’ll just take those steps, it’ll all be okay —

Instead, another body plows into him, knocking them both over. By some miracle, Killian manages to cushion her fall with his entire body. He could just shake her for choosing him over herself, his stubborn lass, but somehow the fact remains that the flames have disappeared and Emma’s chest only heaves with the exertion, not a slow suffocation.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks again, holding her tight to his body with his hooked arm as his hand combs gently through her hair.

“I’m okay. What about you?”

He laughs a little at that, Emma’s inability to focus on the danger she herself was in for her worry over him. “Aye, love, I’m alright. I’m just fine.” Killian takes a moment just to smile at her, awed by everything she is, before he turns more serious. “You saved me.” He shouldn’t be surprised by that really; she’s been saving him in every conceivable way, ever since that very first moment when she pulled him from beneath a pile of corpses and showed him there were still things in the world worth believing in. Still, the knowledge that she saved him, the unworthy pirate, continues to take his breath away.

“Of course I did,” Emma replies, her voice mildly chiding even as he can see her eyes sweep over his face as if she’s reassuring herself that he’s there.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“But I did,” she reminds him. “I love you.” Simple as that. Like that’s all the explanation needed, and maybe it is.

“And I you,” he echoes, the truth pulled from deep within his soul. “More than I’ll ever have the words to express.” As he draws her into a gentle kiss, something to reassure them both that they’re both still here, still fighting, they almost miss the heavy noise of the doors opening.

Almost.

Emma twists her head to the sign at the sound. “Was that…” she trails off, like she’s afraid to jinx it.

“Aye,” Killian breathes out in response. The proof is right in front of them, after all, the doors having opened to reveal a curved hallway already lit by torches.

“But how…”

“Only a heart filled with true love may pass,” Killian recites back. The meaning of those words is only now starting to really sink in; the doors opened for them, so that means they’re true love, something he hadn’t even dared dream might be true. It nearly brings tears to his eyes, and he can’t help but let the awe leak into his voice. “You did it, love.”

“I guess so,” she agrees, still staring at the door in mild bewilderment. “But… how?”

“You chose me. That was the test.” Killian is kind of reasoning through it as he speaks, but that has to be it. That’s what makes sense. “You could have gone for your heart - should have, probably, but… you chose me. You chose me.” The words will never stop amazing him. Gods, true love.

Emma’s smile is a tender as he’s ever seen it as she strokes along his cheek. “Of course I did, babe,” she says once again. “There was never any question. We’re a team, remember? You and me. Giving up or leaving you like that was never an option.”

Killian sits up suddenly, unable to wait any longer to kiss Emma, his love, his true love. There’s a sweetness to the way their lips meet that’s almost reminiscent of the kiss that started this all, out on Granny’s patio after their time travel adventure. There’s no time to deepen it and turn this into a longer or more passionate encounter - not that this is the place for it, anyways, here on the dusty and rocky floor - but it had just proved impossible not to seal this moment with a kiss.

When they finally separate again, it’s only to rest their foreheads together, still breathing in the same air. Unfortunately, there’s no more time to spare. “Are you ready, my love?” He asks, still somewhat breathless.

“Anything with you,” Emma promises right back, gripping onto his lapels for just a moment longer before they both move to stand up.

It’s hard not to set off down the hewn passageway with something approaching giddiness when Emma’s hand is enveloped within his own and a hope he had almost given up on bouncing around in his still-stopped heart. No matter how many times he’d sworn not to get his hopes up, tried to remind himself this was likely the end of everything, he can’t help it. They’re true love, a fact that bears repeating over and over again. their child will be another product of true love, and it nearly makes him giggle like a child to think about how he or she will be a baby born of true love to a mother that’s herself born of her parents true love. It’s the most delightful and ridiculous statement he’s ever contemplated.

All that hope and wonder, unfortunately, only makes the great fall all the harsher when they both turn the corner to see nothing but an obviously dead bush.

“No,” Emma whispers, her voice the auditory equivalent of whatever this sinking feeling in Killian’s stomach is. “No, there must be something.”

There’s not, though. The bush is just a gnarled mess of branches, no leaves, no flowers, no fruit, even if it’s surrounded by a prettier little golden fence than Killian’s seen in even the most ornate palace gardens. No, the ambrosia plant is clearly, unmistakably dead.

His Emma is a stubborn one, though, and has some of her mother’s unshakable hope - even if she doesn’t like admitting to it. She’s already pulled away from Killian, releasing his hand to stride over to the plant and start rooting around the edges of its soil bed, looking for Gods-only-know-what.

“There’s got to be something left,” she mutters, not quite under her breath in her desperation as she frantically searches. “Leaves or seeds or… something. Why aren’t you looking?” she demands abruptly, that panic back in her eyes again.

“There’s nothing to find, love,” Killian tries to tell her gently, even as his own heart is breaking. This is it; this is how their great search ends.

“Ok, well, if there’s nothing on this plant, there’s got to be another one, right?” she asks, more of that frenzy creeping into her voice as she stands back up and brushes her soil-covered hands off on her jeans. “There’s another plant, we’ve just got to find it.”

“Where, love?” he all but begs, voice breaking on the endearment. “Look around you. There’s nowhere else another ambrosia bush would be hiding.” That much is painfully obvious to him. The chamber surrounding the bush, their last great hope, is perfectly circular and perfectly stone and gravel, the only other organic matter the dried straw fueling the ensorcelled torches. It’s only by a feat of magic, he’s sure, that the perfect circle of soil exists for the plant in the first place; there’s simply no other spot in the cavern that could support life. Emma may look all she likes, but as much as Killian wishes otherwise, she’ll never find anything. It’s just not possible.

Emma huffs in frustration, but it’s so easy for him to see the panic underneath it, especially with the way her eyes dart back and forth as if searching for another answer. “Ok, then, we try the heart split again. Now that my name isn’t on one of those fucking headstones anymore, there shouldn’t be a problem. It could still work.” Even as her hand starts moving towards her chest in a motion Killian hopes never to see again in his life - or afterlife, as it were - she sounds doubtful. And for good reason, too.

“No, love, it won’t,” he says as gently as he can.

“Why the hell not? It worked for my parents. You’ve seen David, he’s totally fine. We didn’t even know anything during the whole Wicked Witch debacle until they got their memories back.”

“Yes, but your father was dead for… not even two minutes. Barely longer than the time it took to split your mother’s heart. It’s been months since I died, love, almost four of them,” Killian reminds her, sending his own dead heart plummeting into his boots in the process.

“There’s a preservation spell over your body, though,” she argues right back, picking up momentum. “It’s not like you’re… rotting away, or something.” The very idea of that is enough to make both of them wince.

“That doesn’t mean anything, unfortunately. You and I have both read the storybook, love; we’ve both seen what happened to Regina’s love, how poorly that turned out. He almost hurt Henry, and I won’t put any of you in danger, especially not from my hand. I won’t, love.”

“But we’re true love,” she insists. “Shouldn’t that make all the difference?”

Before Killian can even contemplate his response, the chamber around them starts rumbling, bits of sediment and small pebbles dislodging and raining down on both their heads. Hades must have opened the portal; the disturbance is too similar to what happened when Zelena arrived in the underworld for it to be anything else. The force up above shakes this whole realm to its very foundations, and Killian’s suddenly even more desperate to get Emma as far away from all this as possible - preferably out of this accursed in-between world all together. It’ll break his heart to say goodbye, but her safety, and that of Henry and the baby, is more important than any pain he might be feeling.

“We’ve got to get out of here, back to the surface, love,” he urges, half a plan forming in his mind as he ushers her reluctantly back towards the stone hallway. If he can just get her to the elevator… “It’s not safe.”

Emma casts a look back around the empty, dead chamber, but there’s no denying that he’s right, as larger chunks of stone start dislodging from the ceiling and tumbling down.

The shaking had settled somewhat by the time they reach the elevator, but Killian still hurries Emma on board. There’s not much time left, after all - a few minutes less than an hour, if his timepiece is correct - and Emma will need every second she can get to make her way back through the tunnels, up to the surface, and over to the cemetery before the portal closes. Emma thankfully goes without complaint, even leading at turns, sensing the urgency of this all.

That is, she goes without complaint until Killian steps back off the metal conveyance.

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion at that. “What are you doing, babe? You said it yourself, we’ve got to go. No time to dawdle, or however you’d phrase it.” The corners of her lips even twitch upwards for moment; she clearly has no idea what he’s planning to do, and it sends another stab of guilt through his body.

Killian swallows heavily in a last effort to muster the courage to follow through on this. “I’m not coming with you, love,” he reveals softly, sadly.

That brings the frown back to her face and the panic back to her eyes. “No, that’s not right,” she argues. “You said —”

“I know what I said darling, that we were both getting out of here, but I lied.” He shakes his head in shame. “I’m sorry. I know I said I’d never do that to you, but I had to get you out of that chamber somehow. You’ve got to get to that portal.”

“Not without you,” she declares, stepping back towards Killian with fire in her eyes. There’s tears forming there too, though. “There’s still time, we can still figure something out—”

“No, we can’t. We’ve tried everything, love. This was our last last chance. And if we have to say goodbye… well, I’d rather it was down here, just the two of us. More privacy,” he tries to joke. It doesn’t work.

“But I’m not ready,” Emma pleads. “It’s not enough time.”

“It’s more time than you and I were ever meant to have,” he reminds her. “And I’m so grateful for that. If you hadn’t come down to try and rescue me, I would have never known about our child. I would have never seen you again. Even if your efforts didn’t work to resurrect me, how can I regret a single moment of that borrowed time? Even if we have to part?”

“But I want you there. I want you to meet the baby, and be a father to Henry, and grow old with me.”

“That’s just not in the cards for us, my love,” he replies, voice breaking in the middle. Damn it all, he’s crying too, and he was supposed to hold himself together to try and make this easier. “But I have faith that you and Henry will remember me, and tell our son or daughter all about their father. Especially how much I’ve loved them, from the moment I knew they existed.”

Emma nods, ducking her head for a moment as if to collect herself. “I don’t know how to say goodbye,” she admits.

“Then don’t,” he suggests. “This won’t be forever, just for now. Just for the moment.” A very long now and a very long moment, without any guarantee that he’s done enough to await Emma in a better place, he doesn’t say. “Promise me, though, that you won’t let my death keep you from a happy ending. You’ve still got so much life ahead of you, love. Let yourself be happy in it. I’ve been so proud to see you break down some of your walls; don’t build them back up just because I’m gone. Promise me that.”

“I promise,” she vows with tears in her eyes. “But you have to swear to me that you’ll move on with Liam, that you won’t wait here for me. Don’t let us be your unfinished business.”

“I promise.” He’s not sure it’s one he can keep, but he’ll try his very best.

There’s no more excuses to wait any longer, and Killian carefully helps Emma back into the elevator, reaching up for the gate. Emma stops him before he can close it though, reaching through the bars to frame his face with both her hands.

“I love you, Killian Jones,” she declares, one last time, with tears streaming down her face.

“And I love you, my Swan.”

Their final kiss is slow and gentle, a kiss meant to soak into his very bones and linger with him for all the many years to come. Killian makes sure to stroke along her cheek and through her hair, hoping to engrain the sensations into his brain so he may never forget. This is their one last time, their final goodbye, and it seems crucial that he catalog every moment.

All too soon, the kiss has so end, though, and with one last moment spend resting his forehead against her own, he draws the gate to clang shut. The elevator car lurches to life as soon as he does, slowly making its way upwards, and Killian quickly moves to tangle his fingers with Emma’s own. He doesn’t intend to let go until he absolutely has to. Seeing Emma shake with quiet sobs as the car pulls away, he moves on instinct, drawing her hand to his mouth for a kiss - one, two, three times before she’s carried out of his reach, in a last ditch effort to show his love exactly how precious she is.

And then she’s gone, leaving Killian to his misery at the bottom of the mine.

———

Liam comes to collect him some indeterminate amount of time later, after the shaking finally subsides.

It doesn’t matter though. Nothing does anymore.

She’s gone.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs angst #my writing #If I Could See Your Face Once More #chapter 4 #ouat s5b #canon divergence #I really am sorry

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fluffy-dan-and-phil · 8 years ago

Text

Best Song Ever

Genre: Domestic fluff

Warnings: Some cursing towards the end.

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Phil sings Dan’s Diss track just to annoy him.

Disclaimer: If you haven’t watched Dan’s Diss track, or if you haven’t seen it in a long time, please do to refresh your memory a bit before reading this. Or maybe you’re trash like me, and know the video by heart.

Phil sat by the desk in the office, watching Youtube whilst drinking a cup of coffee. He had burnt his tongue a couple of minutes earlier, so when he brought the mug up to his mouth this time, he sipped on it carefully, and fortunately it had cooled down somewhat. He was supposed to edit a gaming video that was due in 2 hours, but he was so tired and couldn’t find the willpower to get going and do it. Dan usually did most of the editing, but he was out buying groceries, so Phil had volunteered to do it, just so they could upload it on time.

He had watched a couple of his friends recent videos when he stumbled upon Dan’s Diss track that he had posted yesterday. Phil hadn’t seen it in it’s entirety yet, since he had been really busy, but he decided that now was the time. ”Hello internet! My name is Dan, and today, I am going to roast myself with a diss track.” the familiar voice of his boyfriend said, his voice booming through the speakers that were placed on the desk. As Dan failed to put his sunglasses on, Phil giggled, and in the background a beat started playing, and soon enough, believe it or not, Daniel James Howell was actually rapping. Phil smiled as he remembered when Dan had brought up the idea of a diss track to him for the first time. Phil hadn’t believed his ears. Was his boyfriend actually doing a diss track? Yes he was. For the next few days Dan started working on the lyrics, occasionally asking Phil for advice, and the both of them would then laugh at some of the utterly stupid ones he had already come up with. When the shot of him on a bed with a flower crown came on he couldn’t contain his laughter. Dan hadn’t told him what the shot was for, just that he needed it for his diss track. As Dan rapped the lyrics that went along with it, Phil quite literally lost it. When he had watched it once, he came up with a brilliant idea. He decided he was going to learn the song so he could sing it to Dan when he came home. ”That would annoy the crap out of him.” Phil thought, giggling to himself, as he hit the replay button on the video. Fortunately Dan hade put the lyrics in the description as well, and Phil started mouthing them to himself as his boyfriend rapped them at the same time in the video.

When he hit replay for maybe the 20th time, he heard keys being put in the front door and then paper bags crinkling when being put on the floor in the hallway. ”Babe? Can you please come help me with the groceries?” Dan shouted and Phil quickly pressed ”X” on the Youtube tab he had open on the computer. When he didn’t answer, Dan called for him again, ”Phil? PHIL?! Can you come downstairs please?”. Phil stood up, pulling the hoodie he had hung on the back of the chair on again, struggling a bit with one of the arms that had somehow turned itself inside out. ”Yeah, I’m coming!” he shouted back, while taking the steps of the stairs downstairs two and two. After another few flights of stairs he found Dan bent over, untying the laces of his shoes. As he stood up again, he saw Phil. He smiled and put his arms out for Phil to walk into, and Phil did just that. Dan gave Phil a quick kiss before nuzzling his head in the crook of his neck. Dan then spoke out, his voice muffled because of him having his face pressed into Phil’s hoodie. ”I’ve missed you.”, he said. ”But you’ve only been out for like an hour and a half?” Phil answered, laughing silently. ”Yeah, but I don’t like people and I don’t like going outside.” Dan said, pulling away from the hug. They both smiled and Dan started handing Phil the bags. He took two in each hand and started walking up the stairs. He put the bags down on the kitchen counter and turned around to go downstairs and help Dan with the remaining ones. But just as he was about to put his hand on the glass door and open it, he saw Dan through it, bags in both hands, under his arms and even one with the handles between his teeth. He grunted and nodded to Phil to make him open the door. He opened it, laughing att Dan, watching him waddle towards the counter and plonking down the bags on there. As he did, he let out a relieved sigh and turned to Phil. ”Why didn’t you wait for me to get the rest?”, Phil asked, “Or you could at least have gone two times?” Phil said, laughing att the offended look on Dan’s face. ”Don’t you believe in my carrying skills?“, he said, gesticulating dramatically with his hands. ”And, going two times are for losers anyways.”, he proclaimed whilst starting to put things where they belonged in the cupboards. ”Have you started editing the video then, Phil?” Dan continued, briefly turning around to look at his boyfriend. ”Um yeah,” he lied, ”I’m almost done actually, so I think I’m heading back up to the office to finish it if that’s okay?” Phil asked, walking towards Dan, gently putting his thumb on Dan’s chin to turn his head towards him. Dan smiled and pecked him on the lips before turning his attention back to the groceries. ”Well, you do that, and I’ll start with dinner.” he said, smacking Phil’s bum as he walked away. ”HEY!” Phil yelled, looking in Dan’s direction only to be met with him giggling and smiling so hard he had crinkles by his eyes. He shook his head, trying not to smile, struggling to keep the corners of his mouth down.

As soon as he sat down in the office chair, he started to frantically edit the video, since he had told Dan that he was almost done, even though he hadn’t even started. He imported all the clips from the camera and put them all in the editing software. Dan looked particularly good in this video, his hair being slightly curly and him wearing his camouflage shirt. Phil loved Dan’s curly hair, and he didn’t get why he was so stubborn on keeping it straight most of the time. About 45 minutes later he had edited the video and had started to upload it to Youtube. As it was uploading Phil remembered the diss track. He could hear Dan shuffling around in the kitchen, the faint sound of pots and pans clinking together in the background. He opened another tab in the browser to try to find the beat Dan had used in the background of his video. After about five minutes he found it, and as he was about to download it to put it on his phone, Dan called him from downstairs. ”Phil! Dinner’s ready!” ”Coming!”, Phil shouted back, impatiently tapping his foot against the floor as the song was downloading. Luckily, it wasn’t long before it was finished and he could go downstairs. Just outside the living room door there was a stereo with an aux-cord and Phil plugged his phone into it. The beat started playing and he walked into the living room. Dan sat on the sofa with his phone in his hand, and on the sofa table there were two plates with tacos on them, as well as two tall glasses of Ribena. As Phil walked into the living room, to the beat of the song, Dan looked up, looking really confused, until it dawned on him what Phil was about to do. His eyes widened and he quickly sat up straight. ”Phil, what the actual fuck are you-” he said before Phil started rapping, cutting him of. ”A month without uploading he comes back with a tag, that no one even tagged him in, he’s not a challenge to drag.” Phil rapped, walking up to Dan, ”So prepare for an attack, and by that i mean cringe, cause this motherfluffer’s ’bout to get dragged by his fringe.” he continued, flicking Dan’s fringe of his forehead. ”NOOOOOOOOO! Stop it, I don’t want to!” Dan squealed, as he launched his body at Phil, holding him tightly from behind. Phil quickly got out of his grip and jumped away from his boyfriend, who looked like he was about to crumple into tiny pieces out of cringe and embarrassment. ”First things first you’re freakishly tall, it’s weird you look like a noodle…” Phil said, holding up his left hand to count every insult as he said them. ”No no no no no no no!” Dan said, trying to catch Phil again. But this time, Phil knew what Dan was about to do, and jumped to the left while giggling uncontrollably, with his tongue poking out between his teeth, which made it really hard for him to rap. He continued the song whilst skipping and jumping around the room in an effort to avoid Dan from stopping him. ”…The only reason you get views, is you’re another white guy, that people ship with his friend, ’cause they think it’s kawaii…” Phil sang as he put a hand under his chin and tilting his head to the right. Dan had stood still for quite some time now, with his hands on his hips, and as Phil looked at him, he saw the corners of his mouth twitch as he was trying to keep a straight face. When Phil rapped the line ”What the frick even is your sexuality?” he burst into laughter, clutching his stomach and joining in with Phil for the last few lines of the song. ”…Repress it? Yup! Before i start crying let’s wrap this shit up. I’m gonna go and masturbate, then cry into a slice of pizza…” they chanted together through fits of laughter. ”…’cause you just witnessed the roast of Danisnotonfire.” they said falling down on the sofa next to each other. Panting and giggling as the song finished. They looked at each other only to start laughing uncontrollably again. Once they calmed down, Dan climbed into Phil’s lap, letting Phil put an arm around his shoulders as he put his head on his shoulder. ”I should be pissed at you right now, but I really can’t. You are such an endearing person and this is just such a Phil-thing to do. But I still can’t fucking believe you…” Dan said, shaking his head slightly. Phil heard the smile, which was probably plastered on Dan’s face, in his voice. ”I swear I watched the video like a hundred times when you went to the shop just to learn the lyrics. That, if anything, is called dedication” Phil said. ”With that much dedication, you could probably learn ’Danger men at work’ too.” Dan said teasingly, poking Phil’s side, and then continuing, ”But I can’t believe you changed the curse words.”, Dan said as he started laughing again, ”Who would even do that?” he continued, the words becoming more high pitched towards the end. He sat up and turned around so that he was facing Phil. ”You know I don’t curse Dan.” Phil said, laughing softly, ”And it’s not like I’d start doing that after almost 30 years because of your stupid diss track.” he continued. ”Say ’cunt’.” Dan said, nudging Phil. ”No, I don’t want to!” Phil proclaimed. ”Phil, just say it!” Instead of answering, Phil leaned forward, connecting his lips with Dan’s. They were soft and warm and tasted like Dan. He put his hand around Dan’s waist and pulled him closer. ”You’re stupid.”, Dan said smiling into the kiss. ”I love you too.”, Phil said, pulling Dan even closer, continuing to kiss him, when Dan abruptly pulled away. ”Oh no! The food’s got cold now.” Dan noted, putting his arm out, gesticulating towards the tacos on the table. ”Pizza?”, Phil asked, raising an eyebrow. ”Pizza.”, Dan answered.

A/N: hi! it’s me again, here to bless your life with another fluffy fanfic. it wasn’t supposed to be this long, but words just kept coming, and who am i to be a party pooper? but i really hope you liked it! and please leave comments with your reactions on it (see what i did there?), as i’m always here trying to improve my writing. hugs, kisses and a bum-nip.

#phan #phanfic #phanfic fluff #phanfiction #fanfic #dan's diss track

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