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She has always told herself stories.

At first they were tales of knights and princesses, adventure in a world larger than hers. Running away to explore, to live. Running away from the ever-changing, ever disappointing faces of her numerous foster parents.

But, even as she grew older, sharper, harsher; her stories softened to simpler things. Lying under a blanket, cold and alone in yet another home that didn't want her, planning her next escape; she told herself stories of a mysterious figure knocking on her door in the middle of the night, whisking her away to her destiny. Sometimes it would be an older man, golden hair and soft eyes; crinkles in his skin as he smiled at her. The warmth of an embrace as he told her that everything would be alright, that she was loved, that she was wanted, that she was needed.

Sometimes it was a woman with soft skin and beautiful hair, her voice gentle and kind as she held her close and told her she loved her. The feel of a kiss upon her brow, the weight of a hand in hers that made her feel like she wasn't alone anymore.

She told herself tales of love and family and finally feeling like she belonged somewhere, that she belonged with someone.

It took a few more years, the glare of a light shining in her face, the weight of a stolen watch on her wrist and the feel of her fragile heart finally shattering for her to realise the most important thing.

Stories were just lies that people told to make themselves feel better.

No one was coming to save her. Nobody but herself.

It has been years since she has told herself a story but she begins again when she wakes, floating alone in the midst of a wood. Endless sky above her and boundless earth below.

The sound of the wind still echoes in her ears, the sight of Killian's face as he had begged her not to go still burns behind her eyes. Her words of love, finally, desperately spoken, still tingle at her lips.

The darkness seems to have brought her somewhere new. The trees look different, like nothing she's seen before. Taller, thinner, gnarled and twisting, like something out of a fairytale. A hysteric laugh bubbles in her throat at the thought, the churning in her stomach increasing as she notices her clothes. No longer dressed in the white sweater and jeans, she wears a rough dress, the fabric scratching at her skin.

Her hand rises, to use her magic perhaps, to bring her down from her floating position in the sky. She concentrates, breathes deeply, trying desperately to calm herself but that is when she notices her skin. It sparkles in the light, like it had had small fragments of it flake away, revealing a scaly layer underneath.

She crashes to the ground in a heap, her breath knocked out of her. Landing on her hands and knees, the burn of the earth scraping at them coupled with the dress has her crying out in pain. That is when she truly feels the darkness inside her for the first time. It surges within her, healing her aches and cuts, soothing the pain. Her heart beats a pounding rhythm as the magic inside her claws to get out. Her eyes squeeze shut and suddenly she is back when her hand burned with the pain of a new wound, a little circle used to put out a fire. It had worked all too well, extinguishing two flames at once. She feels the helplessness and the fear, the chill in her chest.

She tells herself a story.

Once Upon a Time there was a girl with a broken heart and the darkness tried to fill in the cracks. Once Upon a Time there was a girl with a broken heart and soft soul but her bones were steel and her mind, iron. Once Upon a Time there was a girl who was strong and brave and true. Once Upon a Time there was girl who beat the demon living inside her.

(She tells herself a lie.)

The first time she touches him after, is in the midst of a storm. A wild wind tears at her hair, pushes her to the ground. The darkness pulls at her to rise, to face it, to make it bow before her. It almost succeeds, but her hand burns with the pain of an old wound and she resists. Her hands move to cover her ears as she waits for it to pass, her thumb pressing backwards into that faded circle as she fights the urge to let the magic free. When the wind finally dies down, she is still crouching, her head bowed, her fingers sparking with magic. The darkness needles at her, a pinching in her chest, a whisper in her ear.

This is how he finds her.

The touch of a hand on her shoulder, a startled look upwards and just like that she is in his arms. The darkness is still small, but a sapling growing in her bones, a slight thing trying to find its way on wobbling feet.

So, just then, his arms are enough. The scent of him as she tucks her head into his chest, his voice in her ear as he stumbles through his words in his worry. His kiss on her forehead again and again as they walk, his arm pulling her closer and closer.

It is enough.

She wonders how long it will remain so.

(Once Upon a Time, there was a girl with a broken heart and a boy with a damaged soul. Their sharp edges fit together and almost made them whole.)

She doesn't have to tell herself stories when he is near. His embrace and his kiss take all her words away.

(She never wants them back.)

His touch is her strength, grounding her, keeping her sane. It is the thing that keeps the wild waves of power from drowning her. It is the thing that keeps the whispers quiet. They lie together at night, his arm tucked tight and strong around her, his breath soft at her neck. Her hands reach for him constantly. Even as she falls asleep, she grips him so hard, she wakes with the imprints of his rings burned into her palm.

Running her fingers over the marks, tracing the ridges and curves as they walk; it is enough to keep her safe, to keep them safe from her.

Until it isn't.

It happens like this, she sees the glint of metal as sunlight reflects off the dagger tucked into his vest. Her grip on his hand tightens and he must feel her body stiffen because he stops to look. His eyebrows go up in question as he pulls her closer, his hand releasing hers to stroke her cheek.

"Alright, love?"

She barely hears him, her eyes still wide, lost in the shine of the sliver of metal she can still see near his waistband. The magic inside her sings at the sight, its hold suddenly stronger.

"I-"

Her words are caught in her throat as the darkness surges. It is savage and ecstatic, so close to what it needs to be free. So close to just bursting from her fingertips. She feels it pulsing under her skin, the need to let it go free; the urge to push him away, to break him, to wrench her freedom from his clutches. But, her fear is almost as strong. It churns in her stomach, her skin growing hot, the lump in her throat bigger.

She jerks away from his touch and takes a step back. It is a battle she only barely wins, her body feeling a thousand times heavier, her will a thousand times weaker.

She manages a quick look around, tries to burn the faces of her family into memory. Her little boy who had appeared at her door just like her stories and whisked her away to her destiny, showed her that no matter that her heart was a bruised thing, it could still burn with love for her child. Her parents who had made every childhood fairytale real, who had loved her and held her and made her feel like she belonged. And him. He had burned up the story she had written for herself in her head and written her a new chapter instead. One filled with soft kisses and roaming hands; with tender smiles and gentle glances.

She can't help but squeeze his hand one last time before she is gone. Maybe the shadow of his touch would be enough for a time.

(It isn't.)

(Once Upon a Time, there was a girl with a broken heart who learned to love again. The worst thing she ever had to do was leave them all behind.)

The darkness gets stronger and her stories begin to change. They warp and shift until she isn't sure which parts are her and which parts are the demon.

Once Upon a Time there was a girl with a soft heart and the world cut into it again and again until all she had left were the pieces. Once Upon a Time there was a girl who didn't know how to love. Once Upon a Time there was a little girl who grew up all alone and stayed alone her whole life. Once Upon a Time, there was a girl who was all alone, hurt and betrayed by the people who were supposed to love her.

So she hurt them back.

The fear in their eyes, the stricken look on their faces as they run from her; her heart soars in satisfaction. She leans back against a tree, her arms crossed, a slow smile growing on her face as she watches Regina fight her monster with little bursts of impotent flame. She watches her parents scream her name. She watches Killian stop and look straight in her direction, like he can sense her. She has been hiding in the darkness, content for the winged, fanged thing to be her surrogate. But, she sees his eyes search for her, darting amongst the shadows looking for the tell-tale signs of her unearthly skin.

He is the only one who seems to unnerve her; unnerve the demon inside her. It has been taking root, the darkness, spreading through her veins, colouring her memories and feelings. It reminds her of all the times her parents have lied to her, all the times Regina has tried to kill her, hurt Henry. It reminds her of all the ways the town and its people had burdened her. Called her the Saviour and run away from the problem.

It reminds her that Henry is the only important person left. Her little boy who saved her, who found her again and again. Her little boy who they are now keeping from her, like she would hurt him.

It reminds her that she is free now; powerful and wild and that the world will bend to do her bidding.

But, it wavers on Killian. It cannot make her forget the love that courses through her like blood, the longing for his touch, his kiss; less like strength now, more like a drug but still just as intense. But, it changes the nature of it. The darkness pulls all her deeper feelings away, thoughts from the dead of night when all she had wanted were his arms around her. It pulls away her words of weakness and vulnerability, the fear and exhilaration of opening up to him, of letting him see her. It pulls it all away until all that is left is a burning in her skin to possess him, a tightening in the pit of her stomach, a heat between her legs.

And now as she feels his eyes on her, her lips throb with need to kiss him. She catches herself biting her lower lip, her head tilting as her hand rises to bring him to her.

It is like a fever, this heat that courses through her. She can almost feel him, his hand pulling her hair, his mouth at her breast, hot and wet, his teeth biting down. She sees him, his back arching off the bed, his hook ripping though the mattress; the sounds of his shallow, harsh breaths filling the room.

It seems easy conjuring these images of him, the touch and scent and taste of him even though she has never felt it before. The magic makes them vivid and bright; every feeling amplified, every sensation heightened.

She lets out a choked moan as she struggles to restrain her magic, the darkness gently coercing her to capture and ensnare him. He wouldn't refuse her. Why would he? The man has loved her for far too long and far too deeply to-

"No!"

She says it out loud, standing upright from her leaning position and turning away from them. She calls the monster away with a jerk of her wrist, sees is Henry is alright and alive where she had left him and then she goes, the darkness screaming inside her in protest.

It is a small victory; hollow and lonely but it is a victory nonetheless.

(Once Upon Time, there was a girl who loved a boy but her love for him grew poisoned and tarnished. Once Upon a Time, there was girl who loved a boy but she isn't sure if it is love anymore.)

They make their way back, to where it had all begun. And they bring a war back with them.

Horses roam the streets of storybrooke, men in armour begin to frequent Granny's (still beat up from the journey back— travelling to another realm via tornado takes a toll— but in one piece). Her home has changed much since she was here last, but then again, so has she. The darkness all but owns her now, its taint rooted so deep that she begins to believe every story it tells her, every lie it tells her.

Once Upon a Time, there was a girl who was born to rule and she had that right taken from her. Once Upon a Time, there was a girl who was trampled and abused and broken until her heart became a feral thing. Once Upon a Time there was girl who wanted the world.

So she took it.

Her heels clack on the sidewalk, her coat caressing her legs with every step as she walks with a lightness she has never felt before, a sharp clarity of who she is and what she wants. Who she wants.

She spots him with his head bowed, his hand and hook resting on the hood of her car, his fingers clenching against the smooth surface. They haven't met this way before, in the light of day with nowhere to hide and no way to pretend she isn't who she is. No way to hide the paleness of her skin, almost ashy now. No way to hide the strange texture of her hair, no longer the lustrous gold he had so coveted. No way to hide the monster inside.

She can't wait.

"Good morning, Captain."

His body twists at her voice, low and sultry and far too suggestive for this early in the morning. She watches the battle raging on his face as she makes her way closer. Slow, measured, deliberate steps. She watches his fist, knuckles white as he tries to keep himself from reaching for her. She watches his eyes shine for just a second, their edges tinged with red, before the mask is back.

He doesn't say a word.

She reaches him and the first thing that she notices is his scent. It's different. She can still find the salt of the sea, the mild scent of granny's soap but there's something else. She tilts her head, considering him before taking another step closer. The small smile never leaves her face as she leans in, her nose in the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath.

His body stiffens in response, his hand coming up around her waist but never touching, turning into a fist and falling away.

"Mmmm, someone's been sleeping in my bed."

She says it with a feral smile, her teeth biting down on her lower lip as she straightens and pulls him gently forward by his lapels. His breath leaves him in a small whoosh sound. Closer and closer still. The heat in her body intensifying, burning up at all the places she touches him.

"If you missed me that much, all you had to do was call."

He doesn't speak still, as if ignoring her every word. But, his body reacts. She can feel him tremble. Her closeness, her words affecting him in a way that makes her heart sing. But, his eyes. His eyes dart between her own, looking for something. Looking for her.

Her smile changes, no longer savage, lustful but soft, a mere curve of the corners of her mouth. She leans closer again, her eyes sliding shut as her lips hover above his.

"I've missed you," she whispers it, puts just enough longing and tenderness into it so he believes.

Her arms come around him then, clutching at the fabric of his jacket as she tucks herself into his shoulder, her nose gently tracing the length of his neck.

"I've missed you so much, Killian."

She sighs then. Relief. Contentment. She melts into him.

And he melts into her.

His arms surround her, hand coming around to grab her opposite shoulder, hook around her waist. His head falls on to her shoulder and she feels like she's won, her smile growing wide again.

She lets out a tiny whimper at his grip, pressing kisses to his neck now. His closeness, his touch making the darkness surge, making her wild with want for him. Her kisses get less chaste as she presses against him, her hips seeking his. They linger, her tongue darting out to taste the salt on his skin.

And he lets her.

His grip loosening as he pulls away, his face leaning in, his breathing harsh and loud as his lips brush against hers.

"I need you."

She says it on a sigh, pulling him closer, pressing them together from shoulder to thigh.

"Come with me Killian, I promise my bed will be much more fun with me in it."

Smiling again, she bites his lower lip, pulling him into a kiss. It is a fleeting thing, ending almost as soon as it had begun but it leaves him breathless. His eyes are closed, his mouth open and then, he finally speaks.

"Emma-"

The sound is broken, his voice cracking on the second syllable. He says her name like he's pleading with her. To stop, to stay. To leave him alone. To kiss him until he forgets.

The demon rejoices even as whatever is left of her real self fights to get out and it is like she is pounding her fists against a wall. A pinch in her chest, a burning in her eyes.

They fall shut as the fight rages inside her, shooting open when she feels it, his thumb wiping away the stray tear that had escaped. It is a moment of mad hope, that she can break through. Her mouth opens to speak but the words are stuck in her throat as the darkness clamps down on her miserable attempt at resistance.

And just like that, the smile is back. The heat, the need, the base urge to have him. She leans into his touch, her fingers tracing his arm from elbow to fingertips, bringing his hand lower, lower until it slides over her lips, her mouth opening. She sighs again, pressing a kiss against the pads of his fingers, pulling the middle one into her mouth and sucking gently for a second before releasing it.

His eyes are fixed on her mouth, painted red, her lipstick slightly smudged from their earlier kiss.

It feels wrong and dirty, turning his tender concern into this. But, the magic is relentless, it pushes her to drag his hand lower, his finger leaving a wet trail down her neck, her chest. She stops at the swell of her breast, unworried that they are in full view of anyone walking down the street.

He seems to gather himself then, when his hand is pressed against her heart, his hook around her waist. His eyes finally break away from her mouth, his hand breaking free from her grip. It comes up to trace the curve of her cheek, the cold of his rings against her skin making her shiver.

"We will save you, Emma."

It is a whisper, almost inaudible, like he is trying to convince himself. His hand falls away, as does his hook and she lets him go. His eyes darting about her face, taking her in, as though trying to remind himself that this is not the woman he is in love with.

(But, she looks too much like her for him to believe it.)

When he walks away, he doesn't look back. But the stiffness of his posture and the way he keeps rubbing his fingertips with his thumb tell her she's almost got him.

The darkness sings.

(Once upon a time there was a girl who loved a boy. She cut into his very heart, just to watch him bleed.)

She has always flourished in the night.

It had been a soft blanket to hide under when the light of day had been too sharp, cutting her open with harsh looks and harsher tongues. When the world had abandoned her, declared her too lost to be saved, the night had been her companion, helping her steal what she could from the world that had betrayed her.

It is only fitting that even now, when the darkness lives inside her, the night helps her escape.

Or at least, it had used to.

Her dreams had been her refuge for a long time and even now, they had been a place untainted by the demon inside her. But now she dreams of blood and death, of power and excess.

She dreams of stealing Henry away and turning upon the town with all the rage that has grown in her, that has been forced into her by their existence.

She dreams of this until she sees them.

She sees Henry from outside a window at Granny's, tucked into her side, her hand stroking his hair gently. She sees him straighten when Robin approaches the table, smile at the man when he places a plate of fries on the table. She sees them laugh.

And the darkness seethes with jealousy.

That night she dreams of crushing Regina's heart between her fingers and making Henry watch.

(Once upon a time, there was a girl who forgot how to love. Her heart grew so hollow that all she could hear were the echoes of her own screams.)

"Emma, no!"

She watches him fall as her magic hits him square in his chest. His head hits the street with a sickening crack first, the rest of his body following.

Henry had tried to defend her, the woman who was keeping him from her. He had pleaded and begged and shouted at her. He had chosen Regina over her.

He stands frozen behind Killian now, and for the first time since it had all begun, he looks afraid.

He is afraid. Of her.

(Once upon a time there was a girl who loved her son. She almost killed him for loving someone else more.)

The ship creaks beneath her feet as she makes her way to him.

It is as though the Jolly is protesting her presence, angry at her for hurting him, for making him bleed. It had taken but one look at Henry's frightened face, the sight of blood pooling beneath Killian's body for the demon inside to cower at her rage, her fear.

They had to be safe, they had to be kept safe. From her.

So she had run, her heart beating a manic rhythm into her ribs as she left them behind.

It has been hours since then and the demon hasn't regained its hold on her, not yet. So, she stands outside his room, getting on her knees to knock on the hatch that leads below. Her hand shakes as she brings it to rest against the wood, her magic beginning to spark. Little flickers of light flitting between her fingertips. She feels the darkness attempt to come back, feels the power begin to sweep through her. A sob escaping as she pushes it down, again and again and again. The power fades away, the sparking reducing in intensity until all that is left is the exhaustion. Her body sags with it and she feels the tears rising behind her eyes, her breath coming in frantic bursts as she tries not to breakdown.

This is how he finds her.

The hatch opens beneath her hands and he emerges. In the dark of the night, with only a sliver of the moon for light, all she can see of him is the red of blood shining against his skin. It looks like most of the wound has healed, she supposes she has Regina to thank for that, but it has reopened near his temple, fresh blood gathering there. Her hand floats up to touch his cheek, her thumb gently reaching for the wound.

It feels like it has been an age since she has touched him. Since she has touched him.

He doesn't meet her eyes, his own fixed somewhere past her shoulder, his face drawn tight. But when she touches him, he leans in to it, just a little bit. His face relaxes, his eyes close.

And she stops fighting the tears, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

It feels like forgiveness.

(Once Upon a Time, there was a boy who loved a girl so much that he would trade away his very soul for her happiness.)

They sit side by side on his tiny bed, his hand gripped tight in hers.

He had taken her hand when he had led her down to his chambers and not let go since. He is gentle with her, his thumb stroking the back of her hand as he had slowly guided her down the ladder to his room. It almost seems like before.

Until she realises that he won't look at her. All the way down, he had faced away from her, and met her eyes but once. At the foot of the ladder, in the dim light of the single candle illuminating his room, he had looked at her. She wonders what he had seen. In the low light, in the shadows, perhaps he had seen her. Perhaps he had needed to pretend, that her hair is still the gold it used to be, loose and free about her shoulders. That her face still flushes with colour, that her eyes still sparkle with life. Perhaps he had needed to pretend that he wasn't inviting a monster into his home.

Perhaps she needs to pretend too.

His hand flexes; tightening and loosening its grip as time passes in silence between them. She is close to him, closer than she has been in a while and all she wants to do then is to rest. She wants to bury her face in his shoulder. She wants to feel his arms around her. She wants to hear him say that things would be alright, that they could fight this, that they could win. Together.

She wants to remember what it was like when he loved her.

She isn't sure if he can anymore.

Eventually, she stops fighting. Her head slowly falls into his shoulder and she can feel the darkness rise at the contact, pushing her, pulsing in her blood. She can feel it asking her to take advantage of this moment. He's let her in, he's vulnerable. He wants her.

But, she needs him.

She nuzzles closer in an attempt to smother the noises in her head, her nose at his neck, her hand tightening in his. She feels him turn then, his lips pressing a kiss into her hair. It is soft and tender and it surprises her into looking up at him.

He finally meets her eyes. And she almost breaks all over again.

They don't look as blue as they used to, as deep, as alive. Like, as the darkness had extended its roots inside her, it had drained the life out of him.

She leans forward. She can't seem to control it, doesn't want to. Her lips drift towards his and he must move forward too because just like that, they meet. She sighs into his mouth, falling into him. His lips mould with hers, soft and warm and heavy. He presses close, breathing her in and then the warmth is gone. Her lips feel swollen as they part, her eyes fluttering open.

He isn't looking at her, his eyes fixed on her hand, still gripped in his. He brings it up and takes her wrist in the crook of his hook, his thumb moving over the rings on her fingers, tracing them. She'd never worn rings before and she wonders if this is breaking the illusion for him.

She moves her hand out of his grip gently, pulling the rings off with her other hand. They fall to the floor with a tinkling noise that seems to echo in the room.

He still won't look at her.

She begins to unbutton her coat moving it off her shoulders and out from underneath her before letting it drop. She reaches for him again, taking his hand, lacing her fingers through his. Reminding him of another day, another time. She doesn't know anymore if it is the darkness or if it is her but she knows this, she is starving for him. His touch, his voice.

The way he makes her feel like she's home.

He pulls her hand to his lips then, pressing small kisses to her knuckles, taking just a little bit of this comfort she's offering him. The comfort she is offering herself.

She stands to face him, her hand releasing his, going to his hair, scratching gently at his scalp as she tries to coax him into looking up at her. But, he doesn't.

Instead, his arms come around her, his face pressing against her stomach. Her eyes burn and her heart feels like it's about to shatter but the darkness needles at her.

He's so close to breaking, standing on the precipice. It is far better than anything she could have hoped for, his hopelessness after the day's events delicious on her tongue.

She pulls him away from her, still in control enough to be gentle, and he lets her. His eyes close as he leans into her hand, coming down now to trace the scar under his eye. Her other hand moves, shaking as she fights the magic inside her, to the zipper holding her skirt closed.

The fabric falls with a soft thump that feels like a thunderclap and she wants to shout at him to push her away, to ask her to leave, to force her to leave. But he doesn't. He only looks up, meeting her eyes for the third time this evening and his eyes seem to look through her, see the very depths of the evil inside her and instead of revulsion, all she sees is forgiveness. Instead of fear, there is only a plea for comfort.

She can't hold his gaze. Her eyes dropping closed as he presses a kiss to her hip bone.

He needs her today as much as she needs him.

Every kiss pressed into her skin feels like absolution.

His mouth moves over her like a prayer, kissing down the centre of her chest, pausing at her heart. He presses his forehead onto her skin there, resting, listening to it beat.

(For him, always for him)

Their clothes had fallen off them soon after that first kiss, that first sign of I need you. I love you. Please. She lies now in the centre of his bed, his head bowed between her breasts, his hook around her waist, his hand stroking along her jaw. Her own rest on the back of his neck, on his shoulder, stroking up into his hair and down. She feels the heat building between her legs, feels the tightness in the pit of her stomach. She feels the urge to pull him up by his hair and kiss him until the world rights itself. To to push him down on to his bunk and make him forget, make herself forget. But she doesn't. Instead she lets him take his time. She lets him learn her, bending to kiss any skin she can reach.

His hook moves up from her waist, teasing the side of her breast, the chill of it making her belly coil tighter, her hips rise, searching for him. His scent surrounds her, his warmth, the weight of his body and she is consumed by him. No matter that every touch of his hand sparks the darkness inside her to take control. No matter that even now she does not know if he truly wants her, if he still loves her. No matter that after they do this, she does not know if they will ever recover. None of it seems to matter now. Only the touch of his hand, the cold of his hook, the sound of his breath shuddering as he kisses her again and again.

All the places that had been hidden from him, he is greedy for them now. His hand moves down her body, tracing her side. From her neck to the side of her breast, her waist, her hip, her thigh. Leaving a trail of fire as he goes. He moves slowly, reverent. Lower still. To her calf, coaxing her leg up to wrap around his waist. Their hips finally press against one another and she moans, her back arching off the bed, her hand in his hair tightening its grip. He kisses back up to her neck then. Wet and hot, his mouth open as his tongue darts out to taste her.

Her hands move deeper into his hair as he moves higher, twisting up to reach him. His own comes up to grasp at her forearm as his hook moves under to haul her closer to him, her chest pressed against him. He mouths at the skin behind her ear, hers open in a silent moan against his neck. She feels a pulsing inside her and she doesn't know anymore if it is the darkness or her need for him to be closer and closer still. Her hand moves down to his waist, pulling his hips closer, his heat against hers and she arches again, almost as if having lost all control of her body. He lets out a sound too, something from the back of his throat that rumbles against her breast, her nipples growing even tighter. She can feel his hot breaths against her neck and she circles her hips, wanting more, wanting all of him. He moves his hand up into her hair then, her tight bun looser now, wisps of his framing her face and reaches his fingers underneath it, loosening it further until her hair is tumbling down onto her shoulders. With his face still buried in her neck and her own mouth kissing at his shoulder, he runs his fingers through it.

And it almost breaks them.

Her hair is different now. Paler, thicker, just a touch rougher and his rings snag on it. He pulls a little too hard and she remembers. Who she is, what she is. She wonders then if he hates her or hates himself. She wonders how much hatred and helplessness and bitterness they could pour into this act of love until it became something less. She kisses him more frantically now, her eyes burning with unshed tears, her lips moving from his shoulder to his neck to his jaw. Her forehead finally comes to rest against his temple and she says the first words they have spoken all evening.

"I'm sorry."

She's not sure what she's apologising for. For taking on the darkness. For hurting Henry, for hurting him. For coming to him this way. For needing him so much, for needing his touch, his kiss. For breaking what they have. For everything.

It is but a broken whisper but she knows he's heard it because he freezes, moving up to face her, he wipes the tears from her cheeks, his thumb lingering at the corner of her eye. He rests his forehead against hers.

"Come back to me, my love."

His own whisper, his own prayer. He kisses her then, like it would fix all this, like he never wants to stop, like he loves her.

And she lets herself forget.

When they lie on his little bed in the aftermath, he keeps kissing her, touching her.

His hand moving up and down the curve of her waist, his lips at her temple, at her jaw. She lies facing him, her hand scratching gently at his chest, placing her own little kisses there. She knows she will have to leave soon and when she does, it will all come crashing down.

She will be a monster again and he will wonder if she had been one then, when he had been pressing into her, whispering her name like a prayer. He will wonder if she had been the one to kiss her love into his skin when he had tumbled into ecstasy. He will wonder.

And she will too.

Once Upon a Time, there was a girl who loved a boy but there was a demon in her heart. Once Upon a Time, there was a girl who loved a boy but she broke the love that they had until all that was left were jagged pieces.

The defeat the darkness, together.

It is true love that saves her. Henry's love for his mother, Snow and David's love for their daughter. Killian's love for the woman who came into his life like sunshine. True Love is what saves her but just because you love someone, doesn't mean that you know how to love them.

When the darkness leaves, it leaves a hole in her.

It is as if she is missing a piece of her soul and she hates herself for it. The pounding of power in her veins, the freedom, the clarity that came with it. It is all gone now and her mind feels cloudy and her heart feels bruised.

She tells herself a story.

Once Upon a Time, there was a girl with a broken heart and a demon filled in the cracks. When it left, the girl's heart was even more fractured than before.

They lie in her bed in the afternoon, the sunlight streaming in through the window illuminating his face as he stares up at the ceiling. They have been here for an hour now, her facing away from him, him looking up at the ceiling. They don't touch. They don't speak.

It is the first time since they had won that the two of them have been alone. At first it had been simple. He had gotten her back and she had gotten herself back. They had smiled and laughed and cried. He had held her hand through the night and she had curled into his chest, never wanting to leave.

But then, it had gotten complicated. Every time they kiss, she remembers that night on his ship, the way he had refused to look at her, the way he had loved her anyway. She remembers the fight inside her, remembers the way she had looked, felt.

And she pulls away.

Now, as they lie together, she doesn't know what to do, what to say to him. It is an ache somewhere in her chest, a churning in her stomach, a restlessness in her soul. Her eyes burn with tears as she wonders if they would ever be the same again. If she could ever kiss him again without wondering if she was a monster. If she could hold him again without wondering if he had hated her once. She had been the Dark One, the one who had taken everything away from him.

And he had embraced her.

She wonders if they could ever fix this broken thing between them.

But then, his warmth surrounds her, his arm coming around her waist, his forehead resting between her shoulder blades. He kisses her there, soft, tentative and moves up her neck to her ear.

"I love you."

She moves his hand to rest against her heart and moves in closer against his body, curling into him and she finally lets herself cry.

Her stories stop sounding like lies.

Once Upon a Time, there was a girl with a broken heart and a boy with a damaged soul. They stood side by side through curses and witches and demons, their love only growing stronger. Once Upon a Time, there was a girl who loved a boy.

They lived happily ever after.