#the-corshair-and-her-quill

[vatrixsta]

How Long Will I Love You (3/3)

That’s right - complete!!! Praise be to @csmarchmadness for the gun to the head and to the beautiful, lovely, amazing @the-corsair-and-her-quill for basically informing all story choices with the things she loves! I hope you enjoy the conclusion, darling! 

And seriously, read all the awesome stuff being created by the talented ladies participating in March madness - I’m never online at the same time they are, but they’re bleeding out all these wonderful feels for us to enjoy!

Also on AO3

Remember when Emma wanted nothing more than to understand why Killian was acting so strangely?

Yeah, she was over that. 

She officially wanted to bury her head in the sand and pretend none of this crazy bullshit was real, that fucking Tinkerbell wasn’t sitting in her living room, sipping a cup of tea, while her husband was asking after people Emma was apparently supposed to know, like her parents, who were also fucking fairy tale characters.

Part of her thought Killian had lost his mind, that maybe his books had created some kind of delusion that had led to this Tinkerbell taking advantage of him - maybe she was some kind of delusional fan who’d started talking to him because of his books. He was always too nice to his fans, especially the ones who seemed a little too into what he wrote.

She wanted to call a doctor, get Killian help, do anything to cure this delusion.

Except for that part of her, the really big one, that thought this ridiculous story sounded almost… familiar? Like on a gut level. And damn both their crazy asses, but neither Tinkerbell nor her husband thought they were lying. And neither of them behaved at all delusional, if you ignored every word that came out of their mouths. Which Emma was trying very hard to do.

“I don’t know who the note was from,” Tinkerbell added. “Just that it came by bird and said I needed to find the Savior. I confess that I didn’t spend much time analyzing it - the curse was coming and I used the last of my pixie dust to outrun it.” She held up a bottle. “This was attached to the note.”

Killian sighed. “A memory potion.”

“You always did have an eye for treasure,” Tinkerbell teased.

Great, and now Emma was also insanely jealous of the obviously old and easy rapport between her husband and a fucking fairy.

“Memory potion,” Emma said out loud. “Curses. Snow. Fucking. White.” She shook her head. “Killian, can I talk to you? Alone.”

“Of course, luv,” he said, having the decency to look chagrined for apparently forgetting she didn’t believe a word of this insanity.

Emma practically fled to their bedroom, hugging herself tightly around the middle as she looked at everything that made up their life. Pictures hung on the far wall, a wedding she remembered happening, when they promised to love, honor and always, always cherish. Henry and Killian behind the wheel of a sailboat, the most excited seven year old in history their first time out. Their first Christmas in Boston, the three of them sitting around the tree, happy and settled and a family.

How did he expect her to believe none of it was real?

Killian shut the door quietly behind him and Emma spun around to face him.

“You can’t expect me to just… accept this,” she hissed.

“It’s true, Emma.”

“It’s bullshit,” she countered. “Killian, it’s insane!”

He shook his head. “I admit, I’ve had many a day where I wondered if I had lost my mind, if I had imagined all this, if it really was just the book running away with me. But I knew in my gut it was all true. I just didn’t think we’d ever encounter it again. The curse… it was supposed to be forever. I’ve no idea what’s transpired, luv, but if your family is in danger--”

“I don’t have a family!” Emma yelled. “I have Henry and I have you and that is the end of my family and we are fine!”

Killian approached her slowly, in that way he had, like she was feral but he wasn’t worried about her hurting him, only herself when she inevitably lashed out. Then his arms were around her and she felt that same calm, that same safety she always felt, even in all this madness. His hand cradled the back of her head, his fingertips rubbing soothing little circles into her scalp as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I know you’re afraid,” he whispered.

“I’m not afraid,” she said, but that was exactly what it was. She was afraid her husband was crazy and even more afraid of the idea that he wasn’t. She’d spent her whole life knowing one thing for absolute certain: no one had ever wanted her, really wanted her, until Henry and having him changed her whole life. Her baby wanted her and then they met Killian and she suddenly knew what it was really like, having someone put you first, having someone be there, a husband and a father, the way no foster parent or assholes who dumped their kid by the side of the road ever could have.

“Aye, I agree, you’re quite fearless,” he chuckled. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t know fear. I promise you,” he said quietly. “The truth is nothing to fear. You may not be terribly happy with it just yet, but the only thing it changes are some of the details. You’re Henry’s mother. You are the love of my bloody life. And your parents… wanted you, Emma. They wanted you more than anything and if I know them, they’re waiting for you to find them one last time.”

He held the bottle up to her. The fucking memory potion. Like that was a real thing.

She looked carefully into his eyes. “You aren’t telling me something.”

“I’ve told you the truth,” he said quietly. “The one thing I can’t tell you is something only you can. And only when you’re truly yourself.” He pressed the bottle into her palm. “You’re a bloody hero, Swan. You’re incapable of doing anything but the right thing. Trust your gut, Emma. It’ll tell you what to do.”

Her gut. The thing that had kind of believed this crazy story from the moment she heard it. The thing that knew there was something wrong with Killian all those months ago.

Emma took the potion.

….

ONE YEAR AGO - THE TOWN LINE

“We’ll go back to the Enchanted Forest?” Emma clarified.

Regina shook her head slightly. “All of us. Except Henry. He will stay here because… he was born here.”

Dread sunk like a stone in Emma’s belly. “Alone?” No, no Henry would not be alone, abandoned by the side of the road - right where she was.

“No,” Regina said, echoing the denial Emma felt. “You will take him. Because you’re the savior. And you were created to break the curse. And once again, you can escape it.”

It should have been the answer to her prayers. Except… there was David and Mary Margaret, who had finally started to feel like her parents, the one she’d lain awake crying for more nights than she could count. There was Neal and he didn’t deserve to lose his son anymore than Henry deserved to lose his father. There was Regina, who had raised Henry… and there was Hook, who stood to the side, looking like something was dying right in front of him.

Emma knew how he felt.

“I-I don’t want to. We’ll both go back with everyone.”

Regina looked as gutted as Emma had ever seen her. “That’s not an option. I can’t be with him. If I don’t pay the price, none of this will work.”

“If someone who wasn’t part of the original curse were to try and escape with them… would it work?” Hook asked, a considering look in his eye.

Emma looked at him sharply. Some traitorous flutter of hope she hadn’t known existed flamed to life in her breast. Stupid hope. It never learned that life wasn’t fair.

“Perhaps,” Regina said.

“What if Neal and I accompanied them?” He held a hand toward Emma. “Not that I doubt your ability to handle any foe with your usual brand of punching and kicking, but perhaps you need not start totally from scratch when it comes to rebuilding your lives.”

The hopeful look in Neal’s eyes died almost immediately when Regina spoke again.

“The magic in this curse comes from Pan. He designed it to punish Rumple most of all and as his son, Neal would be unable to escape.” Regina glanced at Hook. “The pirate, however… should have no problem escaping with you, if that’s what you want.”

“I prefer making my own choices in this world and frankly… there’s nothing left for me in the Enchanted Forest,” Hook said, but the way he looked at Emma, the way he didn’t disguise the longing in his eyes, made it very clear to her exactly why he wanted to go with them.

The curse’s thunder sounded in the distance.

“Emma, you have to go,” Mary Margaret said firmly, holding back tears. “All of you, if you can,” she added, nodding toward Hook.

“No,” Emma said, the panic clawing up inside her. It felt like the social worker was coming again, forcing her to leave another home, another family, another life that she should have known would be like all the others, but she always let herself hope, why didn’t she learn-- “N-no. I’m-I’m not… done. I’m the savior, right? I’m supposed to bring back all the happy endings. That’s what Henry always said.”

Mary Margaret smiled at her, a strong but fragile thing. “Happy endings aren’t always what we think they will be. Look around you. You’ve touched the lives of everyone here.”

“But we’re a family,” Emma whimpered.

“Yes, and we always will be,” she promised. “You gave us that.”

“You and Henry can be a family,” David said, circling around them protectively. “You can get your wish. You can be like everyone else. You can be happy.” He jerked a thumb in Hook’s direction. “You can even take in a stray or two.”

Mary Margaret laughed a little. “It’s time to believe in yourself, Emma. It’s time for you to have hope.”

Regina moved closer to Emma, resolve written all over her face. “I’ve known you for some time and all I wanted was for you to get the hell out of my life so I can be with my son. But really… what I want is for Henry to be happy. We have no choice. You have to go.”

Emma put on her big girl pants. “Okay.”

She said goodbye to Neal, again to her parents, to everyone - Henry took it hardest, of course, blaming himself, losing the dad he’d just met. Then Regina brought out the big guns.

“When the curse washes over us, it will send us all back. Nothing will be left behind. Including your memories. It’s just what the curse does. Storybrooke will no longer exist. It won’t ever have existed. So these last years will be gone from all your memories. Now we’ll go back to just being stories again.”

“What will happen to us?” Emma asked.

Regina shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a happy ending.”

Regina chuckled. “It’s not. But I can give you one. I can give you all a chance at one, least.”

“You can preserve our memories?” Emma asked hopefully.

“No, I can… do what I did to everyone else in this town. And give you new ones.”

“You cursed them and they were miserable,” Emma reminded her.

“They didn’t have to be.” Regina took Emma’s hands. “My gift to you is good memories, a good life for you and--” She looked to Henry, who moved to her side. “Henry. You’ll have never given him up. You’ll have always been together.”

It was probably the first truly selfless gift Regina had given anyone in decades. The idea of it - of never having given Henry up - was something Emma would have said she wanted more than anything… until now.

Regina gestured toward Hook. “I know what to do with them, but what sort of connection do you want?”

Hook looked at Emma. “Perhaps… new friends? Headed on an adventure in the same direction? It’ll be up to us then, what happens next.”

Emma nodded her head slowly. “Up to us. Yeah. Good.” But something about it didn’t sit right with her. She hugged her parents again, said as much of a goodbye as she could get out, then she and Henry were shuffling to the bug. Killian was speaking with Regina in low tones, an insistent look on his face. And then he was piling into the car with them, the back seat, throwing her a pained smile. Regina had changed his clothes, given him a prosthetic hand in place of a hook. He looked… good.

“This is quite the vessel you captain, Swan.”

She returned his pained smile. It was probably the last thing he would ever say to her as… well, as him. This was the last time she was ever going to see Captain Killian Jones, Captain Hook. Where they were going… he was going to be someone else, more than she was. Because at least she would still be Emma Swan, just with a few years patched in here and there. She’d grown up in that world. Killian didn’t. He was from a literal fairy tale and he was going to be shoved into the Land Without Magic.

Who was he going to be?

But Emma didn’t have time to think about that. Because the curse was coming. She put the bug in gear. Kept her eyes on the rear view mirror as long as she could…

… Henry smiled at her. Emma shook her head, lost in thought. Killian was in the backseat, hoping to catch a few winks before they traded off in a few hours. He looked wide awake. His eyes met hers. She smiled. He tried to smile back. Something was bothering him.

Emma decided she’d ask him about it after they got to Boston.

….

They stared at each other for a long time. Emma felt the bottle drop slowly out of her hand. It bounced off the carpeted floor of their bedroom and she swallowed the last of its taste from her mouth.

“Hook,” she whispered.

“Aye,” he agreed sadly.

Both sets of memories were fighting in her head - the way she’d believed they met and fallen in love for the last year and the way they really met and…

It felt like her husband was dead, which was ridiculous, because he was right in front of her, staring at her without a drop of hope in his eyes - he looked as though his wife was dead, too.

In a way, she was.

“What the hell happened?” she muttered.

He shook his head. “I did nothing but consider that when we first arrived here. I can only assume something went wrong or perhaps Regina decided this would be easier for us and did what she liked.” He shrugged. “After awhile, the why of it didn’t seem to matter as much as what I was meant to do now. Assuming I hadn’t simply lost my mind, which I confess I seriously considered for a time.” He tapped the side of his head. “The memories were all so real and in this world, the idea that I’d invented a three hundred year old pirate often seemed more plausible than the idea that it was all so tragically real.”

“You lied to me,” she whispered, trying not to cry. It wasn’t a fair accusation - she probably understood what he’d done better than he ever would. But Emma didn’t feel terribly fair at the moment. She felt like everything she’d ever wanted had just been ripped away from her.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he pled. “Anything I chose would hurt you somehow. I didn’t think we’d ever go back, so in the end, it seemed the best option in a sea of bad choices.”

“So you just decided to fake it for the rest of your life?”

“Don’t,” he warned. “You can hate me if you like, but you know damned well what I feel for you is real.”

“What I know is that all of the fake bullshit in my head made me think I loved you,” Emma hissed. “It ruined whatever spark of something, of possibility that was between us. Oh, God - Henry. How the hell do we explain this to Henry?”

“We don’t,” Killian said quietly. “Not yet, at least. There was only one potion. My feelings for him haven’t changed either, so it should be no problem to continue faking it for the boy’s sake.”

The bitterness in his voice was as heartbreaking as it was infuriating. Emma had a powder keg of rage inside of her and absolutely no one else to direct it at.

“Your feelings may be real, but I feel taken advantage of, like we were both taken advantage of,” she whispered. “I get that you were backed into a corner, but it doesn’t change the fact that I feel like an idiot who got tricked.”

His face looked stricken. “I didn’t - I never intended--”

But Emma didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Mostly because she was afraid of how terrified she was - it felt like nothing in her life was real, was hers, definitely not in her control. She was going to keep lashing out at him if they kept talking and she’d already done enough damage. Deep down inside, she knew this wasn’t his fault - but the emotions that were in the driver’s seat didn’t particularly care.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said firmly. “I was kidding myself. This life? It was never real. It was never in the cards for the Savior. We have to go back. I have to save everyone. Because that’s what I do.”

She spun away from him before he could say anything else and pulled down suitcases for both of them by habit. She knew what they’d both need.

“Pack a bag for Henry,” she ordered. “We’ll pick him up early from school and head back to Storybrooke. Assuming it’s actually there,” she added bitterly.

At the last moment, Emma grabbed the one thing she knew she’d need - her red leather jacket. Her armor. The reminder she needed of who she really was and who she was never meant to be.

…

The drive seemed to take a lot longer than it actually did, given Storybrooke was only a couple of hours from Boston. Henry had been ecstatic at the idea of a spontaneous work trip, “just like old times!” and he’d been quite taken with sharing his backseat with Tinkerbell, who kindly confirmed for him that yes, it was her real name. They made up a story about her being a big fan of Killian’s books and that’s how she found Emma. It made her skin crawl, lying to Henry. It made her skin crawl how easily Killian did it. Then again, she was no slouch - she basically lied for a living. Everything made her skin crawl, really. She was ashamed to admit that if someone told her everyone in Storybrooke would be safe without her, she would take the fake memories over reality in a heartbeat.

She was almost surprised when the town line was there, right where she’d last seen it.

They crossed over without incident, dropping Tink off at the convent to check in with the other fairies, assuming everyone was back again. Killian offered to get Henry settled while Emma went to check in with her parents - if everyone was under another curse, they agreed, it would be best if she tried to reason with them alone.

Something she didn’t have to do, it turned out. Her father hugged her, and it was so strange and so comforting all at once that Emma had to stop herself from bursting into tears. Her massively pregnant mother hugged her, too, and Emma tried to keep all the confusion and jealousy and reluctant happiness at bay. She needed to focus on the problem at hand - whatever had brought everyone back had also taken the last year of their memories away, which meant everyone still needed to be on red alert. Emma didn’t have time to feel like an outsider in the only family that was supposed to be real to her. She had Henry and that would always, always be enough.

When she returned to the room they were renting at Granny’s - Henry would never understand why they were staying with David and Mary Margaret and the loft was cramped plus Emma was avoiding the Hook-is-sort-of-my-husband reveal as long as possible - Henry was fast asleep on the pull out bed in the main room. Killian was sitting in a chair in the bedroom, staring out the window - brooding.

On his left arm, was a familiar silver hook.

He gestured toward her with it after she’d shut the door. “Belle confirms it turned up in the pawn shop when the town did. No sign of the Crocodile. Or Neal.”

Neal. She hadn’t given him much thought, something that made her feel guilty - he was Henry’s father and even if Henry didn’t know him now, he would again.

“There are more people missing,” Emma said quietly. “David says they’ve had a hard time getting a head count because there are new people, too.”

Killian pursed his lips. “New people could mean the person who cast the curse. No one really thinks it was Regina, as her memories seem to be as lost as the rest.”

“You don’t believe that?” Emma asked.

He shrugged. “I made my desires for our curse very explicit to her and again when she took my hook and gave me modern clothing. I’ve no idea why she decided to torture me this way, but it was quite effective, don’t you think?” It was then she noticed he’d also found his old flask and by the looks of him, he’d been indulging since Henry went to bed.

“I doubt she was trying to torture you,” Emma argued.

“Who knows why the Evil Queen does anything she does?” He shook his head. “At any rate, whatever her reasons, the blame still lies with me.”

“Hook,” Emma admonished, and his moniker felt as sharp on her tongue as the hook that was once again reunited with his left arm.

“I swore that I would win your heart without any trickery and the first chance I got, I made a mockery of that vow.” He took a heavy swig from his flask. “I assure you, Swan, however much you hate me, I hate myself more.”

I don’t hate you. I don’t think I ever could. I’ve just never been able to take the chance that every instinct I have about you is wrong, the way they always are about a guy I really, really like. And nothing in the whole world feels real to me anymore.

Her heart was the one place Emma was not brave, at least not the Emma who hadn’t been cursed by Regina. So she went into the bathroom to change into pajamas and when she emerged, he was still brooding out the window, like some kind of guardian gargoyle.

She climbed under the covers. “Come to bed,” she ordered. “Henry won’t understand if you sleep somewhere else.” That wasn’t why she wanted him to come to bed, of course, but it was the only reason she could admit out loud.

He was silent for a long moment, then muttered a bitter “As you wish” and joined her in bed, atop the covers.

Emma refused to let herself cry.

….

Regina was devastated Henry didn’t remember her. Emma felt bad for her, particularly when she witnessed a very angry Killian - once again sporting his prosthetic instead of a hook - obviously interrogating her about her role in his half cursed state of being. Emma imagined she told him a version of what she’d told Emma herself - that she hadn’t done anything other than what they’d asked and if things got screwed up, it wasn’t her problem. Emma tended to believe her, mostly because Regina never could give up a chance to gloat when something she’d done had made her enemies miserable.

Which wasn’t really fair, because Regina was as miserable as a person could be with Henry not knowing who she was, but Emma still didn’t feel much like being fair.

David looked like he wanted to murder Hook when they dropped the marriage bomb, but Emma quickly diffused the situation by very loudly reminding him they were both cursed. Killian opened his mouth to stupidly confess his sins, but Emma elbowed him in the ribs to keep him quiet.

“The last thing we need is David going psycho protective dad on you,” she explained later. “Besides, this part is between you and me. No one else.”

That was also the excuse Emma gave herself not to mention the status of her relationship to Mary Margaret. The Queen of Hope would probably pounce on the idea that Emma still had feelings for her fake husband and that was the last thing Emma needed to be distracted by when they had a town to save.

It surprised no one but Emma when their new foe was revealed to be the Wicked Witch. They still had no idea who she was, but tensions were running high and everyone had started snapping at each other. Emma knew she was the number one offender, but that did little to cool her always at the ready temper. She didn’t know how to stop being so angry, how to stop grieving her broken heart over her fake marriage, how to separate the Killian she’d lived with for the last year from the real thing, how to just get over it already.

It was after a particularly heated argument Emma and Killian had in front of everyone in the middle of their room at Granny’s over Henry’s wellbeing - Emma wanted Killian to take him back to Boston and Killian argued the boy was safer here, with both his magical mothers and the rest of his family around him - that Regina apparently finally had enough. She waited until the others had filed out before she pulled Emma aside.

“I didn’t want to say anything. It’s not my place. But Emma, you have to realize what this was.”

“Why?” Emma muttered. “What was it?”

Regina shook her head sadly. “You really don’t know, do you? Funny how I’d forgotten how stubbornly rigid you are.”

“If you have a point, I’d appreciate you getting to it.”

“Fine.” Regina mirrored her defiant stance. “I gave Hook cursed memories along with yours, that’s why he had them rolling around in there. But he wasn’t supposed to be your husband, he was supposed to be an author Henry admired that moved in next door who was victim to the same fire that ruined all of your things - an experience that bonded you and had you agreeing to share a ride to your new home in Boston. That was the reality I put in your heads. He definitely wasn’t supposed to remember he was a 300 year old pirate Captain who specializes in making googoo eyes at you.”

Emma shook her head. “You already told us this--”

“My magic didn’t do this,” Regina said, raising her voice. “Yours did.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “What? I didn’t do--”

“You’re like a baby with a blowtorch,” Regina muttered. “You have no idea how powerful you are and you refuse to learn. You didn’t want Hook to be someone you could lose, someone who could fall through the cracks. So you made sure he was tied to you and Henry, tied as deeply as possible in the Land Without Magic. You made him Henry’s father so he didn’t have to grow up without one and you made him your husband because you wanted him.”

“Look, I don’t need your pop psychology--”

“And,” Regina said, louder still, “you made sure he kept his memories because you didn’t want the fake version of Killian Jones I would have had to create for him to exist in the modern world. You wanted the real thing. You wanted him to love you the same way he always has. No substitutions for Miss Swan, hm?” Regina shook her head. “Get a handle on your magic. We have something wicked to fight. And get a handle on your love life, because the way things stand right now? Your mopey, guilt ridden pirate is going to get himself killed. And while that wouldn’t exactly be the worst thing that ever happened, I imagine Henry would be fairly upset by it.”

Emma tried to fold her arms in the intimidating way she’d used since she was young, but she feared they were more cradling her chest, forcing her heart to stay in place than anything else. . “You’re just guessing,” she said stubbornly.

“Maybe you’re right,” Regina said suddenly. “Maybe I am wrong. Because the only way you’d be able to override Pan’s curse and my alterations to it, would be if you truly loved one another. And to be frank, I’m not sure you believe in anything enough to truly love someone other than Henry. I’m not sure if I do anymore, either.” Regina gestured toward the door. “He’s staying with your parents tonight. He’s excited about having the loft bed to himself. I suggest you use the time to put your house in order.”

Rolling her eyes at Regina’s imperious tone, Emma tried to deny everything she’d just said as the other woman left her alone.

The trouble was, it all rang frighteningly, embarrassingly true.

Emma sank down to the end of the bed and forced herself to sort through her shit. The last year, Killian’s behavior, how hard he’d tried to both stay away from her and be with her. What the hell did she expect him to do? She had as much as told him so - he had to make a choice and then live with it. And if Regina was right -- and goddamnit, she is, she’s right -- Emma had done this to him either because she was so selfish that she wanted him, the real him, even if he wasn’t getting entirely the real her… or, even more terrifying, it had happened unconsciously because she loved him.

Truly.

Before she could think about it much further, the outer door opened and closed quietly and she heard Killian’s hesitant footfalls come closer.

“Swan,” he said tightly. “Henry’s with your parents. Since he won’t be with us, I thought I’d give you a night of peace by seeking my accommodations elsewhere.”

He was very carefully looking just over her head, his expression intentionally blank. She’d been hurting him, punishing him the way he’d always feared she would and all he’d done was the best he could in an impossible situation. He’d tried to protect her heart at every turn, even when his own was hurting and confused and at war with that strange moral compass he’d always had.

This had to stop. Now.

“Regina said something to me tonight,” Emma said, her voice hoarse.

Killian finally looked at her. “Swan, are you crying?” he asked, the worry flooding his tone.

“Am I?” Emma reached her hand up to touch the tear tracks that had made their way down her cheeks. “I guess I am. It’s funny, when you make it a rule that you won’t let anything make you cry anymore… it kind of sneaks up on you.”

“What the hell did Regina say to you?” Now he looked murderous again, which was kind of sweet, actually. That was her life - a murderous pirate fake-husband. For a kid who grew up alone and unloved, it actually didn’t sound too bad.

“This is all my fault,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. Killian, I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he soothed, flipping from murderous to concerned in a heartbeat. “If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that none of this is your fault.”

“Killian, I’m so damaged that even my magic is repressed and it only comes out when I’m desperately afraid of losing something,” she explained. “Regina thinks - and I do, too, I mean, I don’t think, I know - all of those walls I have, those stupid walls, it’s why you were basically tortured for a year. I did it. I didn’t want some fake version of you living down the hall. I wanted you. And my magic just… did it. You didn’t trick me. If anything, I’m the one who tricked you, except… I guess I didn’t, because you always knew how you felt.” Emma didn’t know what else to say and Killian was looking at her with the most inscrutable expression. “I could use a little feedback here,” she prompted.

He shook his head, as if coming out of a daze. “You called me Killian.” His voice was tinged with wonder.

She narrowed her eyes. “It’s your name.”

“You haven’t called me anything but Hook since you remembered,” he said. “You haven’t…”

Her chest hurt again from how much she’d hurt him. “Stupid walls,” she offered, the only explanation she had.

Killian took a step toward her, then another, until he could fall to his knees at her feet. He took her hand in his, brought the back of it to his mouth for a kiss. She was still wearing her fake wedding ring. So was he. She still had Liam’s ring around her neck. His actual ring, if she was a betting woman - her magic had made sure the moments they shared with false memories were still as real as a land without magic could allow them to be.

“I like your walls,” Killian confided, as if telling her a secret. He looked up at her with the tenderest expression in his blue, blue eyes. It didn’t really matter if she met him on a crowded sidewalk or under a pile of bodies - it was understanding at first sight and everything they’d shared had been real, even the things that weren’t.

“I think I was right before,” she whispered back. “No one else could have loved me well enough to bring them down.”

“Oh, Emma,” he chuffed. “I don’t know if you give me too much credit or yourself too little. Perhaps both.”

“How do you do this?” she muttered. “How do you love me like this? Like it’s just… easy? I’m not… i’m not easy. I know I’m not. But it’s as if you just… like me this way.”

“Funny, isn’t it?” he murmured. “Almost as funny as you liking me the way I am - all tortured, revenge obsessed-turned-Emma Swan obsessed, so much that you forced me to stay exactly who I was even in the face of an unbreakable curse.”

Emma groaned. “Your ego is never going to come back down to earth after this.”

“Aye,” he agreed cheerfully. “But this is the monster you created. You’re going to have to live with him.”

Emma brought her palms to his cheeks; stroked his ridiculous cheekbones with her thumbs, paying extra attention to the scar on his right. He was perfect, even in the places that weren’t. Real, even the ways he hadn’t been. No one else would have been right - would have been this right. No one else would have had her magic crying out at the idea of taking any part of him away.

“I guess I can do that,” she promised, resting her forehead against his.

She had to play it a little cool. He still had to be the grown up in the relationship.

…

They buried Neal.

Henry got his memories back. Everyone did.

They beat the witch.

Emma’s little brother was the most perfect baby she’d ever seen.

Until eight months later, when little Hope came screaming into the world.

Henry was the best man at their wedding - the one the whole town and one very fussy baby attended.

The fake memories had been good. Really, really good.

The real ones were better.