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At first, there is light. Bright and blinding, consuming her every sense. She hears nothing, feels nothing, smells nothing. There is only the light.

And then, so abruptly that she feels an ache in her temples, sound comes rushing in. Someone is sobbing, someone is shouting and people are talking incessantly. It all sounds frantic and charged and sad somehow but she still can't see anything except the light.

Touch comes back next, but it's dull. She feels something hard beneath her fingertips, she runs her nails along it and realises that its a wall. Her head turns this way and that, trying to see, trying to figure out where she is. The sobbing continues, softer now and the shouting has stopped altogether, replaced by soothing whispers.

Slowly, shapes begin to appear before her, nothing she can discern but she is glad that she is beginning to see again. But, like touch, it's dull. Colours are dim and shapes just that little bit blurred, like getting fuzzy reception on your TV.

It begins to clear up and the scene in front of her becomes clearer. It's her family. They're standing by a couch at Regina's. Snow is the one who is sobbing. David's got his arm around her, his own face red and blotchy. She spots Henry's head where he's curled into Regina's side, her arm tight around him.

She can't see who they're all staring at and her eyes automatically search for Killian. He isn't anywhere near the rest of them. Her eyes scan the room, as they have now begun to do, looking for him whenever she is away from him and then she finds him. He's sitting against the wall, staring blankly at something in his hand. He looks distraught, his face creased with pain, his eyes wide and shining. She begins to walk towards him, her own heart constricting but before she can take a step-

"We're going to take her away now."

She turns around at her father's strained voice and then she sees the person on the couch. The one who they had all been mourning, she realises belatedly.

It's her, the same blonde hair, the same face. She's even wearing the same jacket. Her eyes closed and her face is peaceful and that is when she finally breaks out of her trance.

Was she dead?

It's been three days and she's learned a few things. One, nobody can see or hear her and two, she's not dead.

But, she may as well be.

Her heart still beats but it's getting slower and fainter by the day. They've kept her hooked up to multiple machines at the hospital hoping that modern medicine would be able to somehow fix the effects of the magic that's wasting her away. All she can remember is taking on Maleficent in the town square. She remembers the fighting, the burn of her magic as she had thrown everything she had at the woman. And then, there was nothing.

She can tell that they're desperate and they all know it. But, it is their last chance, Regina having given up on her. That's what the shouting had been about. She had said something to the effect of there being nothing else she could do and Killian's voice had sounded like thunder as he had asked her to fix this, fix this now.

She had tried to talk to them at first, screamed herself hoarse but they hadn't heard. Not when Henry had cried for hours, his little shoulders trembling as Regina held him close to her chest. Not when Snow and David had stayed with her and tried again and again to try and bring her back with True Love's Kiss.

("Maybe it's not working because I didn't love her the way I should have. I should never have let her go through that wardrobe, David. Now, she won't wake up.")

They had blamed themselves, for not being the parents she deserved and she had tried to tell them again and again that they were every thing she had ever dreamed of when she was little and alone.

Then there was Killian. He seemed to be frozen as he sat on the floor against the wall outside her hospital room, staring into nothing. His fist was still clenched around whatever it was he had been holding since they had all left Regina's house. He had tried too, kissed her hard and desperate, as though trying to will her back to life with his kiss alone. When it hadn't worked, he had become this. His face blank, his eyes bloodshot, vaguely drifting towards wherever it was they took her.

She had been with him for hours, trying so hard to make him hear her, feel her. She had run her hands all over his face and neck as she kneeled in front of him. She had kissed him again and again but he hadn't responded. She had spoken to him, told him that she was fine, she was here but nothing. Eventually she had just sat next to him, her head on his shoulder, her hand resting on his tight fist.

When he had finally broken down, his fist had opened and she saw that he was holding Anna's necklace. The Wishing Star.

He'd been trying to wish her back.

(She holds him as he cries and each sob feels like a knife in her throat.)

She takes turns at being with each of them.

She spends mornings with Snow as she races about the house, cleaning and cooking. She watches her hold Neal, smiling for him, trying to make him laugh but her eyes give her away. They shine with unbidden tears and just like that she's sitting him in her lap and telling him about his big sister.

"She's so brave, and so strong and you know, she loves you so much baby."

Her voice breaks and Emma yearns to wipe away her tears but of course, nothing happens. She hugs her, like she does everyday and moves on to see David.

David has started taking his Sheriff duties extra seriously. He's almost always out answering some random complaint, that in the past he would have simply handled over the phone. But, now he walks to whoever it is that needs his help and does all he can.

But when no one is watching, he cries into his arms at his desk. Soft, silent tears that not even Snow is allowed to see. He's supposed to be the strong one, the rock in the sea that threatens to drown them all. But he can't help but mourn the fact that he's somehow outlived his baby girl. He's failed her again.

His shoulders begin to shake and she hears him apologise to her in a low murmur and she would give anything to hold him and for him to feel it. Her chest hurts and she kneels by his chair, her arm around him and tries to whisper in his ear that she loves him, she loves him.

He scrubs his face and tries to wash away all evidence of his grief before he leaves but his eyes give him away. He puts a shaky smile on his face and makes his way home and she goes to see her son.

He's been staying at Regina's, holed up in his room only coming out occasionally to walk to the library to speak to Belle about some book or other. He's convinced that there's something they're missing. There's some spell or potion that will bring her back. She is glad that he's finally begun to move instead of just lying in bed all day, occasionally crying quietly into his pillow. Her brave little boy. She had lain next to him, tried to stroke his hair, comfort him. She is grateful for Regina and how understanding she's being, letting him obsess but making sure he eats and sleeps.

And she knows that when the time comes, she will help him let go.

(No matter how much the thought makes her heart feel like it's being crushed, she hopes he will forget about her someday. She hopes that they all will.)

Every evening, the three of them visit her (body, she thinks, not her) at the hospital and smile and laugh and talk to her. Whale had told them that's she was in some sort of coma and maybe hearing them would help her want to wake up. They try, they really do but she sees when David wipes at his eyes discreetly, when Snow holds her hand just that little bit too tight.

She spends all day with them, a silent spectator to their lives, but her nights are for Killian and for him alone.

He had visited her once, the second night once everyone else had left. He'd spent the night by her side, holding her hand and talking to her in broken, desperate whispers, kissing her palm over and over again as he told her he loved her, told her he wasn't sure how he'd make it through without her, pleaded with her to come back to me darling, please.

He'd left the next morning, his eyes bloodshot, his fist clenched tight, his clothes and hair a mess.

And he hadn't been back since.

Now, he wanders about the docks, a bottle in his hand more often than not. Sometimes Will Scarlett sits with him on a bench and shares a drink. They don't speak and when he has to leave, he claps Killian on the shoulder and goes. But no matter, she sees Killian is glad of the silent understanding. Will knows that there's no fixing this loss and all he can do is lend the man some company as he grieves and she realises that loss brings strange people together.

But every night, he shows up at Mary Margaret's door and every night she hugs him before leading him in. He eats with them, the only noises the clinking of their forks and knives against the plates. He and David do the dishes together and she loves watching them. It's such a domestic scene, the only time she feels like she can believe that they will get past this and be happy again, the fact that they're building new traditions without her.

She doesn't feel so sure about that later though, when Killian slowly walks up to her room and buries his face in her pillows. His hook lies on her end table, his hand gripping the sheets. He stays like that for a while before his shoulders shake in silent sobs and he whispers muffled apologies to her.

She wants to tell him that it's ok, that she understands how he feels. There isn't anyone left to fight, to blame and he doesn't know what to do.

Some nights, he calls her number and listens to her voice on the voicemail over and over again.

Hey, this is Emma. Leave a message.

Hey, this is Emma. Leave a message.

Hey, this is Emma. Leave a messa-

Occasionally, he speaks, talks to her like she's on the other end of the line.

"I miss you so much, love. It hurts to breathe when I think about how you may never wake up."

A shuddering breath.

"Gods, but you've got to wake up, Emma. I'm sorry I haven't been to visit. I just- I can't see you that way without wanting to-"

He doesn't speak for a while, his eyes shut tight as he tries to gather himself. She runs her hand over his forehead, strokes the scar on his cheek and cries her own tears that vanish before they even drip down her face.

"When I think of you, I want to remember your smile, your laugh. Your eyes when you look at me like you might love me. No matter that I am a black-hearted cur who may never deserve you. I want to remember you alive and angry and bloody gorgeous. I'm sorry, love. I'm-I'm weak and selfish and I want to remember you properly. Please forgive me."

Nobody hears these messages except her. Her phone lies with the rest of things she had had on her when she had fallen. In a box in her room, untouched, as though waiting for her to come back and claim them.

Her body doesn't feel much, no hunger, no thirst, no need for sleep so she watches him. She watches him toss and turn and eventually fall into a fitful sleep, his face still buried in her pillow. She lays next to him, her hands drifting to touch him, unable to keep away. She traces the frown on his face when he mumbles her name, the curve of his lips, his arm as it reaches out sometimes, looking for her.

His skin doesn't feel as warm but some of it seems to seep into her anyway and she crawls closer and closer. She thinks that he feels her sometimes because he sighs and his body relaxes into hers.

She stays with him all night and in the morning, she starts all over again.

A month passes and things begin to change. Slowly but surely, her family is learning to live without her. They still visit her everyday but it doesn't seem as hard as it used to be, an air of defeat about them. Henry begins to spend less time at the library and more time with his grandparents.

They talk about her. Henry tells them stories (both real and fake, it doesn't seem to matter, not when there are so few that they got to live) and they laugh and smile. There's a tinge of sadness about them still, a heaviness in the air but they're trying and it warms her heart. When she had been alone all those years, she had occasionally wondered, when the morbid mood struck her, just how many people would mourn her if she died. The answer had always been something that had taken her straight to her liquor closet but now, as she watches this family that she's found, watches them learn her and love her, she doesn't know if the feeling in her gut is joy or anguish.

The fact that they're moving on hurts and makes her happy in equal measure. Her eyes feel like they've dried up, no more tears left for her to cry and she wonders if that's what's happened to them. They're tired of hoping and praying that she will come back and so they've begun to heal.

Soon, they will begin to forget but she will still be here.

(It is a bitter thought and guilt churns in her belly. Suddenly, she can't watch them anymore.)

She has tried to come back to them many times over. In the beginning, she had lain near her body and tried to will herself back into it. She had even tried to read a book or two but, she seems to have no tangible effect on the world around her, her touch doesn't move anything, her breath doesn't fog up glass, her presence doesn't even displace the air. Her magic has vanished, the familiar warmth in her belly missing ever since she had woken and she feels like she's lost a part of herself.

She'd pieced together what had happened by eavesdropping on scattered conversations across town. She had gone after Maleficent in a last ditch effort and thrown a spectacularly large blast of magic at her ("For a second, I thought I'd been blinded!") after which Maleficent had fallen but, so had she. They had talked about how Killian had dropped to his knees and shaken her, shouting at her to wake up and when she hadn't responded, sat with her cradled in his arms, refusing to move until David had gently coaxed him to standing.

Killian has only been getting worse, going through the motions. His visits to her home have become sporadic despite David's protests. He spends his nights at the docks and she thinks about, not for the first time, just how big a sacrifice he had made by giving up his ship, for her. She sits with him still, night after night as he begins to dwindle away, his scruff growing out into a beard, the circles under his eyes getting darker. He looks like her loss has bruised his soul and he doesn't care if he ever heals, only waiting until he can slowly fade from this world as well.

One night she follows him to her home when he goes there long after dinner time, but David lets him in, understanding as always. Killian only nods in thanks and makes a beeline to her room like he does when he makes these late night trips and falls into her pillows just like always. But, it is a cold night, the chill even seeping through to her body and he just lays there in the middle of her bed, the window open as he shivers. His shoulders shake and and his breath makes little clouds in the air and she feels her heart squeeze, her eyes burn. Her body is screaming out to help him, hold him, kiss him, anything. She feels it then, the loneliness, the helplessness. She feels it to her very bones. All this time, she had been burying it, pushing it down whenever it reared its head but it comes back roaring into her, telling her that they will never know she is here, that they will forget, that he will let himself fade away into nothing.

(That she is the reason that he is this way, because he feels her. She doesn't let herself think about it too much but some nights he curls into her warmth and she could swear that he feels her.)

It's too much and she all but falls to her knees.

She wonders if she can just leave. Maybe if she gets far enough away from her body, she would disappear as well.

Maybe then, she will stop feeling like she is falling apart every time she sees Killian cry, every time Snow's eye shine with memories they never got to make, when she sees David's strength waver, when she sees Henry clutch her picture in his fingers as he falls asleep.

Maybe then, this will stop.

Killian sits up and makes to stand but gives up half way, sitting at the edge of the bed, his face in his hand. She lets her tears fall, her sobs echo in the silence and kneels in front of him.

"I love you, Killian. I love you so much. Please, you have to let go-"

Her breath hitches and her hand goes up to stroke the back of his.

"-let go of me. You have to move on. Promise me you'll do that?"

She knows he can't hear him but she tells him anyway, that she loves him, that she has to go now but it's okay because he'll be fine. He'll be alright.

She hugs him then, holds him as tight as she can, tries to make the leather of his jacket crinkle in response to her tight grip, tries to stain his clothes with her tears. She is just about to let go of him, once and for all when-

"Emma? Emma-"

She gasps, sudden heat at her waist.

His arm is around her.

He tries to touch her, runs his hand along her cheek, her hair and despite the fact that she can feel the heat of his touch, he doesn't feel anything. But, he can hear her and see her and for the first few minutes, they had simply stared at one another. He, drinking her in, seeing her suddenly stand in front of him after he had thought that he had lost her forever. She, cherishing the look of recognition on his face, feeling the warmth of his touch, his arm still around her waist.

"Emma, my love, I-"

She doesn't let him finish, burying her face in the crook of his neck, holding on even tighter than before.

"Are you really here?"

His voice is laced with disbelief, wonder and she pulls back to look at him.

"I am, well, sort of."

He makes a choked sound in the back of his throat and tries to pull her closer still but it doesn't work. His face falls.

"I can't feel you here. I see you, I hear you but-"

His eyes flit across her face, wide and shining. His hand comes up to touch her face, his thumb at her chin.

"Gods, Emma. I thought I'd lost you."

He says it on a sigh and she hadn't ever thought that somebody saying her name would feel like a caress. She finally gathers her wits enough to answer him.

"I don't know what's happening, Killian. I don't know how-"

"We'll find a way Emma. We will."

She sees fire in his gaze, the light that had been missing all this time, slowly coming back to him and she feels herself smile.

"She's what?"

Regina looks like she's about to hit Killian with the nearest object she can find. He had woken her in the middle of the night and was now telling her that Emma's shade was wandering Storybrooke. Emma tries to reign in her laughter.

(She fails, making Killian turn around and smile wide at her.)

(God, but she had missed that smile.)

"She's here. I can see her. She's standing behind me right now."

"Mom? What's going on?"

Henry's voice floats into the room. Sleepy and rumpled, he emerges at the top of the stairs.

"Not a word to my son, Hook!"

Regina hisses at him before answering Henry.

"It's nothing honey, go back to bed."

But, Henry has always been a curious kid.

"Killian? What's wrong? Did my mom wake up?"

His face lights up with so much hope that the urge to leave flares up inside of her again. She can't hurt her baby, not again. He had just been getting better.

"Don't tell him, Killian," she whispers into his ear, "not until we know we can fix this."

He nods his acquiesce.

"No lad, I just had some business with Regina. Town business. Go back to sleep."

He smiles and ruffles his hair and Henry slowly plods back to his room. He's not convinced but he seems to be willing to let it go for now and she is glad.

When the door shuts, Regina faces them again.

"Look, I know you're mourning her and people do it differently but Hook, she's gone. She's barely alive at the hospital, not a shade standing behind you."

The genuine concern in her voice surprises Emma a little but before she can process the feeling, Killian is talking again, slowly, his voice low and serious.

"Listen to me your highness, I've been seeing her every single day since she's fallen. I see her at the corner of the street when I'm walking, I see her waking me up in the morning when my head is pounding a bloody symphony, I see her all the time, everywhere and she always disappears before I can look upon her face. So, believe me when I tell you that this is real. She's here or at least a part of her is. I need you to help me bring all of her back."

Her hand goes to his shoulder, squeezing tight, willing for him to feel it. He doesn't, but he sees it, his own hand coming up to cover hers.

"You really see her, don't you?"

"I do."

"What did you do as soon as you found her? When she fell?"

"I- What does that have to do with anything?"

He grits out the words, like he doesn't want to think about it.

"I'm just trying to understand what happened, that's all."

He closes his eyes, his hand clenching into a fist.

"I kissed her. I thought it would work, but it didn't."

"It did."

His eyes snap open.

"What happened to her wasn't a curse so True Love's Kiss can't break it but it seems to have done something. Something that's keeping part of her tethered to our world. And that's why only you seem to be able to see her."

(His love kept her here. He loves her. He loves her. He loves her.)

"So, how do we bring her back?"

"We don't. I'm sorry Hook, Emma, if you're there, but I've been looking through books the same as Henry and there is no way we can bring someone back from the dead."

"But she isn't dead!"

He's shouting now, his body shaking, his knuckles white.

"She is," she replies calmly, "The only reason she's here is that you haven't let her go yet. Once you let her body go, let the machines stop working, she will probably disappear as well."

"Emma, no, please."

She's standing at the hospital, looking at her body and the things that are keeping her alive.

"There has got to be another way!"

It's surreal looking at herself like this. She looks pale and grey, her skin having lost all its colour.

"No, Killian. This is it," she says as she shrugs her shoulders, a wry smile on her face. She tries to rein in her sobs but they escape anyway when she sees his face. She walks over to him, her hands on his cheeks. His warmth seeps into her and it's taking all of her resolve to let go. Her forehead falls against his, her eyes drifting close.

"I love you. I will always love you. You'll be okay, Killian. You'll be okay without me."

"No. No, Emma. I can't-"

He's shaking his head, tears dripping down his cheeks.

"Your parents-"

"Don't need to know."

"But darling, they would wish to say goodbye and Henry-"

"They've started to move on. I don't want to ruin that. Promise me, you will too. Promise."

She opens her eyes and meets his, his endless pools of blue. She drinks him in, his face ragged, his hair a mess, his clothes rumpled and he still looks like a dream.

(Somewhere along the way he had become hers)

She wants to tell him how thankful she is that he had stumbled into her life and despite her best efforts at bucking him off, he had held on. She wants to tell him that sometimes his steadfast presence at her side, his unwavering belief in her had been the only thing keeping her fighting. She wants to tell him so many things and she had thought that they'd have time, time to build a life and know each other but now-

"No," he says resolutely, his voice ringing with sincerity, "No. No matter what happens, Emma Swan, I will love you for the rest of my days and long after."

She laughs, it's watery and broken but it's a laugh. He stubborn, idiot pirate. She moves in to kiss him and as soon as their lips touch, warmth spreads though her body, all the way to her fingers and the tips of her toes. She feels like there is a fire alight inside of her and for a single, mad second she thinks that they've fixed it and brought her back but when they separate, she is still an almost-person and she still has to leave him.

"Emma, no. Please, you could stay love."

"Like this? Where I can't touch or feel, where nobody can see me? Killian, I'm not meant to be here anymore."

He's still shaking his head a little, refusing to believe that this is happening. She takes his hand and begins walking towards the switch that would take her away.

"You just have to push this button and-"

He makes to pull her closer and she moves into him herself. His arms around her radiate heat and she closes her eyes as she holds him close, her head resting on his shoulder.

"I can't do it, my love. I can't be the one who ki-"

"You're not hurting me. You're just letting me go. Please, Killian. Nobody else can do this."

Her voice is muffled against his jacket. She doesn't let go, only clutches him tighter, locking her arms around him.

"I love you, Emma. More than anything in the world. Please don't go, don't leave me alone-"

His voice breaks and his arms tighten, the heat spreading through her body increasing.

"You're not alone, ok? You have a family and I know they love you. Take care of them for me?"

He nods against her shoulder and she knows he's crying even though she can't feel his tears. She takes a deep breath.

"Do it now."

He doesn't let go of her but she knows that he's pulled the plug because she feels a drag at the pit of her belly and her arm begins to fade away in front of her eyes. She pulls back to look at him one last time.

"I love you, Killian."

She smiles and just like that, she's gone.

(Just before she disappears, she swears sees him fall to his knees.)

The light is back.

Just like before, it consumes her every sense but this time her body melts into it. She feels light, weightless.

Vague, almost thoughts pass through her mind.

Killian's sleepy smile in the mornings, his kisses on her bare shoulder.

David's warm hugs, the weight of his hand on her head.

Henry's excited voice as he tells her about some new adventure.

Snow's sweet voice as she tells her she loves her.

Her family.

They would be alright.

They had each other.

The light gets brighter and she feels a swell of feeling, it pulses about her and everything is warm.

Emma!

They don't know how it happens but it does. She wakes in the hospital bed, still hooked up to machines and she feels the sting of the needle in her arm, the chill in the air, the stiffness in her bones.

She feels.

When things have calmed down, when she has held her parents tight and close and told them she loves them until she is sure that they believe it, until she is sure that they know, when she has hugged Henry, when she has tried to take away the pain she has seen in their eyes in the last month, when she has shown them as much as she can that she is grateful for them, that she has missed them every second that she had been apart from them, they try to understand.

(Killian holds her hand the entire time)

Regina says that it has something to do with how she had reunited with her body after they had unhooked her from the machines.

Henry says it is because her magic had recharged after she had used it all for them.

Snow is convinced it's true love and she tells them so with a watery smile.

Maybe it was a combination of all three but she is back and everything is just as it had been.

Except for one thing.

Her magic is gone.

She feels the loss more intensely than she had ever expected. Despite the fact that she had once wanted to give it up, she now feels bereft without it. She doesn't tell them yet, hoping to have some time to deal with it herself before the outpouring of sympathy is sure to receive from her parents.

They finally separate for the day, amidst many hugs and I love you's and Killian comes home with her like it has always been this way. David hugs him as they are about to go up and she sees him whisper something in Killian's ear to which Killian only responds by nodding and hugging him tighter. They pull apart, David claps him on the shoulder and gives him a tiny smile and Killian follows her up.

They get ready for bed, the rustling of clothes the only sound in the quiet room. She crawls under the covers and she savors the softness and the warmth, her eyes closing in bliss. When she opens them, Killian is staring at her.

"I never thought I'd see you like this again, lying on this bed. I-"

His voice is rough, raspy from disuse. These are the first words he has spoken to her since she had woken up. Her own voice sounds weak as she replies, her arms extended.

"Come here."

He climbs in after her, his arms coming around her waist, his face pressed between her breasts. She strokes his hair and lets him cry, his shoulders shuddering. Her own tears fall and wet her cheeks as she kisses his head again and again.

"I love you."

He begins to kiss up her chest and neck, every touch feeling like fire on her skin. When he finally reaches her lips, he stops to look at her face, his hand coming up to caress her cheek, his thumb stroking her chin and he smiles.

And she feels like she is glowing.

They take their time, he kisses every inch of her, his lips lingering. She feels a tingling wherever he has touched long after he has moved on. She revels in the ability to feel again. She learns the shape of his shoulders, the roughness of his fingers, the softness of his hair. He holds her so close, so tight that there is nothing but him. She can't stop her hands from touching. She relishes in the heat of his body, the weight of it as he rises above her.

He whispers his love into her skin, etches it into her bones.

She does the same, leaves her mark on him, long scratches on his back, bite marks on his collarbone.

Anything to make sure he knows that she is his and he is hers.

Later, when they are sated and tangled up in one another, when he is convinced that she is real, that she is here to stay, she tells him.

"My magic is gone."

His arm tightens around her and he kisses her shoulder gently, pulling her closer into his chest. He doesn't say anything but she knows, he is with her and they will figure it out.

She takes his hand and kisses his knuckles, moving just that little bit closer to him before her eyes flutter closed.

She sleeps and for the first time in what feels like years, she is content.