A/N: So, if any of you dear readers are like me, then you watched the Season 5 mid-season finale and walked away more than disappointed. I cannot express my level of distaste with how the writers decided to 'resolve' the story arc. So, I wrote this story to fix things. I hope you all enjoy!

After

Emma knew what she had to do. She was at peace with it, really. She had made up her mind a long time ago, weeks ago back in Camelot. She just never thought that things would ever come to this.

It wasn't hard for her to figure out that Gold had enchanted Excalibur. She was the Dark One after all; her magic was ten fold what it used to be. She had time during her six weeks in Camelot to hone her skills, and while the darker part of her admired her predecessor's persistence, another part of her was disgusted at the gall of his actions. She would've done anything for a second chance such as his, and there he was, wasting it. But that wasn't her main worry. A simple swipe of her hand was all it took to manipulate Gold's spell to suit her needs. Now instead of the magic channeling towards him, it would channel inside whatever Excalibur sunk its blade into.

Letting Killian take Excalibur was the next step, or at least making him believe that he took it. Emma was no fool; she knew that Killian was after her. He had already gone after Gold for it first, and it was only a matter of time before he came looking for her and the sword.

What Emma wasn't expecting was the sudden compassion, the kinder tone he used when he tore her heart to shreds. He could've gotten away with his plan as well, had he not tried to impersonate Henry. It was a misstep on his part, his overconfidence taking over. The door hadn't even opened, and never once had Henry looked at Emma the way he was now, a faint smirk on his usually bright and cheerful face. She had month's worth of practice as the Dark One. She was used to the power, how it worked and what it felt like, and Killian was too drunk on revenge to spot the difference. He was gloating in his supposed victory, and that would be his undoing.

So, she let Killian take the fake Excalibur she held in her hands, the real one safely secured in the closet. He left thinking that he had won, when really he was falling right into her plan. All that was left now was the hard part.

That was why she now stood near the lake, hidden in the shadows a few feet away from where Killian had rounded up everyone she cared about to send them to the Underworld. It was hard for her to watch, to see the man she loved be so cruel towards those who had done nothing but show him kindness and compassion. These were his friends, his family by association, and though she had not been the daughter of the year, she at least knew where to draw her lines.

Regina had stepped forward at some point, trying to get Killian to let them go. She was mentioning something from their shared past, something about his father. Emma knew nothing of Killian's father, but whatever Regina was saying had him stopped cold. It was part of the plan they had agreed upon. They would try in their own ways to get Killian to come around, and only if all else had failed, would they resort to Excalibur. Emma prayed that whatever Regina was telling him was making him change his mind. She didn't want to have to end things the hard way. She didn't want to have to say goodbye to Killian.

However, Regina's face as she stepped away from the pirate crushed any of Emma's hopes for a peaceful resolution. Regina looked horrified, and Killian, well, he just looked angrier.

"That was a touching story," Killian sneered, his cold voice carrying up to Emma's ears, making her cringe. "Trying to appeal to my soft side aye? Well, good of you to try, but I knew what kind of man was then, and I know what kind of man I am now."

"Please, Hook, you don't have to do this," Regina tried again, but Killian was done listening. He had turned his back to Emma's family and was directing his attention towards the water bank, Death and its boat growing closer and closer to the shore.

"No point in fighting it Your Majesty," Killian said, almost cheerfully, the Dark Ones closing in on the group, pushing them towards the lake. "You have a boat to catch."

Regina's eyes flickered briefly to Emma's, and Emma knew it was time to act. She couldn't hold off any longer. She couldn't wait for any more miracles.

Hand trembling, she raised Excalibur into the air. The power came naturally, like summoning the darkness was nothing different now than it was two days ago. But everything had changed, and she was never bombarded with as much darkness as this. The Dark Ones surrounding the lake all crumbled and twisted into shadowy tendrils that all targeted her. Excalibur absorbed them all like a sponge, all the while the blade growing heavier and heavier in her hand, until the weight of the power was making her entire body shake in effort to contain it.

She wouldn't make it much longer.

"Swan," Killian's voice reached her, much more like he used to sound. The darkness in him was waning as Excalibur sucked it away, and his eyes no longer held their contempt and hatred for her. Instead, all she saw was pain, confusion, and sadness. "What are you doing?"

"Emma!" her mother called, cutting across the tension. Emma could see her struggling to get to her, but Regina was holding her back, David close at her heels. Emma nodded at Regina, before focusing her attention back to Excalibur.

"I have to do this. I have to get rid of the darkness," Emma said like it was simple. Like it was nothing. "There's no other way."

Tears were pricking at her eyes, not only at the pain of holding so much power, but because of the weight of her decision. She could feel it, the pain she was about to cause so many people, the pain she was about to cause herself. It was almost enough to make her reconsider.

Almost.

Emma shifted Exaclibur so that the blade faced outwards in front of her, the flat part that bared both their names was facing her. She sucked in a deep breath. She had to stay strong. She had to do this, for her family. This was the only way they were going to stay safe.

She was the Savior. It was time to start acting like it.

"There's always another way," Killian pleaded, his voice desperate now that he had picked up on what Emma's intentions were. He took a tentative step forward, but Emma took a parallel one back. "Please, Swan. Please, don't…"

There were tears in his eyes now, and Emma had to look away. Not that looking at anyone else helped. Mary Margaret was fighting against David and Regina's hold, though the both appeared just as wounded. Robin was stoic, like he was trying to stay strong when the others couldn't. And Henry…well, Emma choked as she saw the wet tracks down his cheeks.

"I love you," she said, her voice cracking and wavering from the strain of fighting off the darkness. She wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. But her eyes held with Henry's and he nodded, though his heart was breaking just as hers was. She scanned over all the faces of those that she loved, making sure that the last sight she saw was Killian. "All of you."

And then, in one elegant motion, she twisted the blade and plunged it deep into her chest.

The pain was instant.

Searing, white hot pain that shot up and down her spine and made her limbs explode with fire.

She felt like was being pulled apart, like everything was on fire and she was the core, burning the hottest, destroying every part of her until there was nothing left. The darkness pulsed through her veins, the power of hundreds of Dark Ones polluting her body and poisoning her. But she wouldn't' let it. She could feel Excalibur working; the longer she held the blade in, the more darkness it destroyed. She could feel the ancient magic working away, unraveling the Dark Ones one by one, and as the darkness faded, Emma felt more of her old magic returning, and she used it against the darkness as well. There would be no trace of the darkness if she had anything to say about it. If she were going to die, then she would die knowing she did everything she could to wipe the darkness from the world for good.

She sunk to her knees, but something was there to catch her fall. There was screaming echoing in her ears, but she could not distinguish whom. Arms were holding her close, laying her down. Her vision was blurry. All she could see was darkness.

Then, all at once the fire focused in on her heart, searing the spot where the metal entered her body, and was currently being pulled out. Then there was cold, a bone-chilling cold that replaced the fire all too quickly. Excalibur disintegrated into dust, taking the last of the darkness with it.

She had done it.

She won.

Except she hadn't.

"Come on Swan, just hold on!" came a desperate voice from above her.

When she turned her head to the side, Emma could see Killian, his eyes clouded with unshed tears and focused on the gaping wound in her chest. David was there to help as well, her mother kneeling off to the side with Henry pulled up to her chest and Regina and Robin curled up in one another, looking onwards with heavy hearts. They were all there for her, trying to save her. She could feel the blood she had lost, everything a bit fuzzy around the edges. And she was numb. The cold had left her without feeling, and she didn't have to be a doctor to know what would happen next.

But the sight of Killian back to normal, no trace of the Dark One in him, was worth the sacrifice. He looked every bit the dashing pirate she fell in love with, was still in love with. He was perfect.

And he was bleeding.

The wound from Camelot had reopened. Without the darkness to save him, Excalibur's wound would surly kill him. But she could do something about that.

Reaching up, her fingers brushed gently across Killian's neck. His eyes snapped down to hers immediately, confused at first but then worried as he remembered his injury. Emma traced the open wound a few times, making sure she knew it by heart before letting go of the magic she had tried so hard to contain. There was only a little left, but she channeled it up through her fingertips and into Killian's neck.

He hissed at the pain, but did not pull away. He let Emma do what she needed to, a white light engulfing her hand and the spot on his neck. When she finally released him, he covered her fingers with his own, realizing that the wound was completely healed. It was impossible, but she had healed him.

Emma smiled at her handiwork. She had saved him one last time. Everyone she loved was safe. Everyone she loved was protected.

And so, with her job finally done, the Savior let out her last breath and was still.

"Emma," Killian said, shaking his love slightly. He hadn't noticed when she had closed her eyes; he was too preoccupied with the tingling sensation in his neck. But now, with her head lolled back and her eyes firmly shut, he was concerned. "Emma!"

She wasn't waking up.

Oh God, she wasn't waking up.

"Emma! Come back to me love!" he tried, leaning over her to do compressions. He had to revive one or two of his mates aboard the Jolly Roger. He knew how it was done, but no one he had tried to save had previously been stabbed through the chest.

It wasn't working. Why wasn't it working?!

"Mom," Henry called out weakly, a slight hint of hope in his voice that twisted Killian's heart in his chest.

"Come on Emma! Breathe!" Killian shouted, leaning over Emma's body, praying for her to do as he asked for once. But she was always stubborn, even in death it seemed. Her chest refused to rise, and Killian stopped compressions and balled his fist up in the ground, pulling angry handfuls of grass. "COME ON!"

"Killian stop!" Mary Margaret yelled, reaching out to him before he harmed himself. He was breathing heavily, tears falling freely down his face. He looked like a wreck, and even though she had lost a daughter, Mary Margaret found room in her heart to comfort him. "There is nothing you can do... She's gone."

Her voice was caught on the last word, and she let a few of her own tears slip. David was next to her in a second, wrapping her in his arms and planting kisses on her forehead. He would have time to mourn Emma later. Right now, someone needed to be the strong one. Right now, someone had to hold Mary Margaret and Henry and Killian up before they lost themselves to grief.

"I can't accept that," Killian said, his voice broken. He had already suffered through the loss of one love, but that had been dulled by centuries of hatred and revenge.

Revenge. That word tasted sour on his lips. Revenge was the reason for all his suffering. Revenge was the reason was leaning over the body of his love now. Revenge was the reason why the pain and agony of losing the one person he cared about was ravaging him. Revenge, he vowed, would never have that much sway over him again.

"There has to be a way to save her."

"If there were any other way, Emma would've found it. She wouldn't have done this if there weren't any other option," Regina said. "She saved all of us. She died a hero."

"Oh yeah, and how do you know so bloody much about what Emma would've done aye?" Killian asked, his voice harsh. He stood up to meet Regina, and she stepped away from Robin to square her shoulders.

"Hey, none of that matters now," Mary Margaret intervened before anything else could be said, stopping the fighting. "What matters now is being with one another. We all just lost someone very close to our hearts…and I…" her voice cut off, and whatever she was going to say was stopped as she pressed her face into David's chest and sobbed.

"Snow's right," Regina agreed, stepping back into Robin. "Emma wouldn't want us at each other's throats. She'd want us to be together."

"Well that's easy for you to say, love, with Robin at your side," Hook sneered. "It's easy for you all to be together. So don't talk to me about what Emma would or would not want. You have no right!" Killian shouted, his anger rising, boiling over in his veins. "I will scour every inch of this land until I have a way to get my Emma back!"

"Perhaps you won't have to."

All heads turned towards the very familiar voice, one they thought they wouldn't hear from again. But there the wizard was, in the flesh, clad in midnight robes that matched the night sky. He approached the group quickly, urgently.

"Merlin?" Regina asked, not really believing her eyes. "How is this possible?"

"With the darkness gone, I was able to regain my strength, and my freedom," Merlin explained. "However, my time here is short. With the Dark One gone, my presence will upset the natural balance of magic, and tip the scales of power towards the light."

"Where will you go?" Regina asked.

"First I must deal with a very corrupted Camelot and its Once and Future King. The kingdom has suffered greatly. I am responsible for its downfall, and I will be responsible for picking up the pieces. After that, I cannot say," Merlin replied, his lips quirking up into a semi-smile. "But let us not waste this time I have here."

His gaze wandered to Emma's body, and everyone else's followed.

"What was it you were saying earlier, about not having to look far?" Killian asked, not meeting the magician's eyes. He still didn't trust Merlin, not after Camelot and how little help he'd truly been in saving Emma in the first place. He had a knack for giving half-truths, and disappearing when he was needed most.

"When Emma destroyed the darkness, she channeled the power of all the Dark Ones that ever existed into herself, like a vessel. There the darkness was pulled apart and disintegrated by Excalibur's magic," Merlin said, reaching down into the pile of dust that was once Excalibur. He pinched the powder in between his fingers, and let the grains fly away in the wind. "However, when the darkness was weakened, Emma's own light magic overwhelmed the darkness. Put plainly, her own magic fought the battle against the darkness and won."

"What does that mean?" Mary Margaret asked, clearly confused.

"It means that in the moments before Emma banished the darkness permanently, she transformed it…to heal you," Merlin said, now pointing to Killian's neck. "She used the remaining power of the combined Dark Ones for good, changing the nature of the magic entirely. With all of that positive energy channeled into one source, well, that was enough to overpower Excalibur, making its wound no longer permanent."

"And yet she didn't even use it to save herself," Killian muttered under his breath, bitterness sinking.

Merlin frowned. "The Dark One may be dead, but Emma Swan may very well still be alive somewhere underneath the surface."

Now that had everyone's attention, especially Killian's.

"What are you getting at mate?" Killian asked, the usual sly tone creeping back into his words. He still didn't trust Merlin, but if the man had a way to save Emma he was more than willing to hear it.

"When someone dies, it is not their body that dies; it is their soul," Merlin said as if he were lecturing to children, breaking things down to basics. "Bodies are acquired easily enough through magic; as a Dark One, you have experienced that first hand. When Emma drove Excalibur through her body, it was to destroy the soul of the Dark One, and though the body is wounded, Emma Swan's soul still lingers here. Her soul still lives, and if you try hard enough, you could bring it back."

A collective murmur ran over the group. This seemed too good to be true. No one had heard of magic like this before, but Merlin, the master of all magic, was telling them Emma was alive and there was a very real chance of getting her back.

Of course they had to try.

"Do you truly think that will work?" David asked, trying to remain skeptical before everyone got their hopes up.

"There is no guarantee, and it won't be easy," Merlin warned, looking down at Emma as if studying her. "This is not something that can be fixed with True Love's Kiss or a simple spell. This is bringing someone back from the edge of life and death. You'd have to convince Emma that life is worth living. You'd have to give her something to fight for. And even then, it might not work."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take," Killian replied instantly, not even hesitating.

"Us too," Mary Margaret agreed, nodding her head firmly, determined to get her daughter back.

"Then I truly wish you all well," Merlin nodded, his smile more melancholy this time. "It is not often that Death grants second chances. Cherish this gift you have been given."

It was then that Killian remembered Nimue, and how she was destroyed along with the darkness. The short time that Killian had spent with her in his head was enough to know how deeply they loved. Though Merlin's love had died long ago, she was now gone forever. Killian felt a pang of sympathy for the old wizard. He was thankful for his help; in spite of everything that he went through, Merlin was still willing to help.

In a few ways, they were the same, but it was what they would do that would make all the difference. Merlin was handing Killian the chance to change things, to do what he himself could not do hundreds of years before. Killian would correct Merlin's sins. He wouldn't give up on Emma.

"Thank you," Killian said, just between the two of them.

Merlin nodded, and in a flash of smoke, he was gone.

They carried Emma all the way up the Fairy's sanctuary. Blue was there to greet them, and open up a bed for Emma. They didn't know how long they'd need it. Merlin didn't leave many instructions about how to go about waking Emma up properly, but everyone was hopeful that she would wake up soon.

The visits started immediately.

At first, all everyone wanted to do was talk. They rotated in ten-minute turns, running through stories, memories, and daily tasks, anything at all in hopes to get a response. Mary Margaret and David rarely ever left her side, and if it wasn't for school Henry would be there too. He had taken from reading passages out of the storybook, acting out every story as if it were the first time.

Regina would come by once a day, usually just to stand there and offer a few words that she thought would do the trick. Every day she left more defeated than the next. Robin tried as well in the beginning, trying to recall anecdotes or tall tales in hopes that he would get a laugh or two. He'd tell her about the baby, about Roland, about how well Henry was doing in school. They didn't have much in common, but he figured the bond of parenthood was better than any.

The Dwarves would sit around and sing mining chants. Archie came over to try and see what was going on from a psychological standpoint. Ruby came by once or twice to drop off food for those who lingered around Emma's bedside. Dr. Whale was consulted about how long Emma could stay like this. Belle would sit in a chair, hold Emma's hand, and read from whatever novel she had brought with her that night.

And Killian would sit there and wait.

A week passed with no change.

A week passed and everyone was giving up hope.

Henry had school. The Charmings had a baby. Regina and Robin had two children as well. Everyone else had a business to run, a life to get back to, a living to make.

And Killian just sat there and watched them leave.

A month passed by. The leaves started changing, falling off the trees.

Then another. The ground was colder, ice brushing over the streets. Last time winter came to Storybrooke the Snow Queen came with it. Now, the cold came on its own. The salt water stung his nose from nights spent sleeping on his ship. The wind sliced at his skin. Everyone stayed inside. He had nowhere to go. The whole world was freezing him out.

And, eventually, he left too.

Emma's room was empty most days. Of course, there were the fairies that changed her sheets, fed her, clothed her, and bathed her. There were the doctors that stopped by once a week to make sure nothing had changed. And every once in a while, she'd have a visitor.

Tonight was one of those times.

Leather soles moved silently across the tiled floors, movement given away only by the rhythmic tapping of a cane moments later. The tapping approached Emma's bed, and stopped just as it got to the edge. The grating sound of metal on tile filled the silent space, and the man with the cane propped himself down into the chair with a sigh. His leg really was killing him today, more than most days. But, perhaps that was because he was in a particularly hellish mood. After all, Emma Swan was not his favorite person, as he was not hers.

"You've caused quite a bit of distress around here, Miss Swan," Mr. Gold said, folding his hands into his lap, looking onto the woman he currently despised most. "Stopping the darkness, sacrificing yourself in order to do so, playing the hero...but you and I both know that you're no hero. You're a thief."

Gold leaned forward now, hands folded and placed under his chin, elbows propped on his knees. He looked back and forth before lowering his voice, as if sharing a secret.

"You stole something from me Miss Swan, something very precious," he nearly whispered, and though his tone was soft, there was no mistaking the hidden anger. "You stole the power that should've been mine, and now there's no getting it back. Perhaps it was my fault for underestimating you, but you really should've let my spell alone."

Gold picked up one of Emma's hands from the bed and held it in his own, making sure there was a point of contact between them. After all, what was the point of making threats if she couldn't feel it?

"I'll make you pay for this dearie," he said idly, focused solely on the skin between her palm and her thumb. "I'll make sure that you regret ever picking up that sword. I'll take from you, what you took from me: something dear to you. Your family. Your beloved pirate. Or maybe even Henry. Someone irreplaceable. And with you lying here, well, there's nothing you can do about it."

Gold placed Emma's hand back on the bed, and stood up. He had made his point. He was done here. All that was left to do was deliver on his promise.

However, he was halfway to the door when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"If you touch a single hair on Henry's head, I'll kill you."

"Ah, Miss Swan. So good of you to join us once more," Mr. Gold said with mock cheerfulness. Emma truly was a sight to behold, freshly woken from her slumber and still just as fiery as ever. He did so enjoy a challenge. "I was wondering what it would take to get you to wake up from that sleep of yours. Everyone else was trying kind words and happy memories. But you, I knew you would require a certain kind of persuasion."

Emma cocked her head to the side, trying to read Gold.

"So you're not after revenge?"

"Well of course I am."

"But you wouldn't really harm Henry. He's your grandson."

The small smile that pulled at the corner of Gold's lips looked more like the Rumplestiltskin Emma saw in her mind than anything else: cold and calculating and completely enigmatic. It was the last thing she saw before Gold turned his back and kept on walking towards the exit.

"I guess you'll have to wait and find out dearie."

The doors shut behind him with a resounding slam, and Emma found that she was smiling as well.

Some things, it seems, would never change.

It was the middle of the night in Storybrook when Emma walked outside for the first time in months. The streets were deserted, and everyone was safely tucked away inside. The wind was chillier than she remembered it being, and there was a faint dusting of frost on the ground. Everything looked the same; everything looked safe.

Her feet knew where she wanted to go before she realized where she was headed. The route to her apartment was a familiar one - taking all the turns and steps until she was right outside of the front door. She opened the door slowly, trying to be quiet at the late hour. It wouldn't be very nice of her to announce her appearance to her parents by making them believe she was a burglar.

The knob turned without a squeak, and she took the stairs to the side by twos to get to where she wanted to be. It wasn't her favorite thing, to sneak around her own home, but she didn't want to draw attention to herself at the moment. She wanted to enjoy what anonymity she had left, and she didn't want any interruptions keeping her from the person inside the upstairs room.

Henry was fast asleep in his bed, a blanket curled up around him tightly. He looked so peaceful when he slept, and Emma smiled, near tears, as she leaned up against the doorway. She was wondering when she would ever get to see this sight again. It had been too long since she was allowed to be this close to Henry; her time as the Dark One had alienated him from her, and when she was finally back in his good graces, there wasn't much time for bonding moments.

Emma walked over and sat down at the edge of the bed, careful not to squish Henry's feet or any other extremity. He shifted slightly, but did not wake, and Emma found herself smiling at the way his hair stuck up at the corners. She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing down the wild pieces. He felt that apparently, brown eyes slowly cracking open from their slumber as he woke.

"Mom?" he asked tentatively, his voice so fragile and so full of hope, and Emma immediately burst into tears, letting them fall freely from her face.

"Hey kid," she whispered, her hand resting on the side of his cheek.

She barely had time to take in Henry's widened eyes and ecstatic expression before she was scooped up into the biggest, most bone-crushing hug she had ever received. And she found that she was holding on just as tightly.

"I've missed you," Henry said, his voice muffled by her hair and the fact that his chin was pressed into her shoulder. But she didn't mind. Her son was in her arms. He was safe, he was loved, and she was never going to let him go.

"I missed you too Henry. So much."

Of course, Emma's return wasn't kept secret for much longer. Not when Henry started laughing at the fact that his mother was really and truly alive. And, of course, with Henry laughter was infectious. Mary Margaret and David were woken up and checked on Henry, and it was all downhill from there.

There was lots of hugging and crying from all parties. There were "how's" and "why's" and a stern lecture from Mary Margaret saying, "never, ever do that to us again Emma, do you hear me?" Emma nodded her head and let her mother wet her hair with her tears. She let her father finally release all the emotions he had been trying to hold back in order to comfort his wife. She just let her family hold her, and in that moment, she felt more loved than she ever had before.

The water was cold in the early morning. Killian had learned that many hundred years ago when he was just a boy. He had spent his fair share of time on the deck of a ship, but he had not spent this much time drinking on one in ages. Granted, he had only known Emma Swan for a short period of his miserably long life, but those years were enough leave their mark all the same. They were enough to drive him to drink.

He wished they would go away.

There was never enough rum to dull the ache in his chest, never enough ale to numb him entirely. He hadn't given up on Emma just yet, but it was hard to hold a hand that wouldn't grasp back, to talk to a person who wouldn't say a word.

It was hard to love a ghost. Perhaps, harder even than to love a Dark One.

He blamed himself of course. He was a Dark One when she was. He should've been able to pick up on her deception, to stop her. It should've been him that took the blade into his chest. He should've been the one lying on the bed. It should've been him.

He took another swig of his bottle to find that it was, indeed empty. Just like he'd said: never enough rum. Even when he got to the bottom of the bottle, he could still feel the pain. He was feeling something else as well: an irritation. Specifically, an irritation at his wallowing being disturbed at the hands of a few careless dwarves hustling down the docks.

"What's all the fuss about?" Killian asked, not really because he was interested, but because this was the first time in days that more than the birds had been up and about, nonetheless running down the street at full force.

"Haven't you heard?" Leroy asked in his usual abrasive manner. Killian didn't particularly like the look that the dwarf was giving him, like he was supposed to know something important.

"Heard what?" Killian asked again, the impatience creeping in his voice.

"Emma's awake!"

"Where?" he asked, breathless and his mind spinning.

"Everyone's meeting at Granny's," Leroy told him, but Killian's feet wouldn't move. He was frozen to the spot, unbelieving. Was this really possible? Was Emma really awake? His heart couldn't afford another break.

"What are you waiting for lover boy?" Leroy asked, jostling Killian out of his thoughts. "Go get her!"

Killian nodded, and with a slight shove from Leroy, ran down the street. He ran and he ran and he ran. He didn't even know it was possible to run so fast and so far, but this was for Emma. Emma could make him do anything, of that he was certain. He needed to get to her. He needed to be with her.

He stopped across the street from the diner. He couldn't go any further. His body couldn't carry him, something blocking him from entering. It could've been a number of things: his wounded pride, his fear of having his heart shattered. But the real reason was his fear of Emma, more importantly, her reaction to seeing him. Last they had spoken, she was lying on the grass, bleeding out in his arms from a wound he directly caused. He was the source of her pain, her disappearance, and her near death. If she were to hate him forever, well, he would most certainly deserve it, but he surely could not bear it.

Granny's was busier than usual, the door opening and closing, clearly a huge celebration going on inside, as was the proper thing to do when someone came back from the brink of death. The blinds were cracked, giving a view of the inside with perfect clarity. And there, seated in the middle most booth, was his Swan, looking like nothing had even changed in her red leather jacket, her hair its normal shade of golden blonde. She was holding Neal in her lap, Henry perched on the head of the vinyl seat. Her parents were opposite her so that he could not see their faces.

And she was happy.

Seeing her alive and well, moving and laughing with Henry and her parents, was enough to drive him to his knees. He had never thought he would see that sight again, and to have it playing out in front of him was every dream he'd had in the last few months come true. He would've been content just to watch, just to se her live her very real life, but he had to move. He had to see her; he knew she was waiting for her, just across the street.

But he still couldn't move.

But maybe he wouldn't have to.

With a slight shift of her head, Emma's eyes met his through the glass, and immediately, he felt like all the air had been stolen from his lungs. Hers were so clear, so open, and so very wide from the shock of seeing him there. She stared and stared for what felt like the longest time. Days, months, years. All the hours that passed between them while she lied unconscious on the bed. It didn't matter now. Time had fallen away now, and he could stare at her until his ran out.

But she was moving now. Why was she moving? Up and up and up until she was standing. Moving, moving faster and faster towards the door. Her parents were looking after her, watching her go but did not try to stop her. Did not attempt to get in her way. After all, they didn't need to guess at who Emma was so eager to see. She was practically throwing herself out the door, down the steps, across the sidewalk.

Oh, God, she was real. She was real and she was flying towards him at top speed.

He didn't wait for her to get to him. His feet gained the ability to move again, his body carrying him towards the woman in the middle of the road. To hell with traffic; it didn't matter, not like anyone used the roads anyway. Nothing mattered. Nothing except Emma and him and how bloody close they were.

The impact was like an explosion. She collided into him and he into her, and if they could've gotten any closer, merged into one being, they would've. Her arms came to wrap around his neck, gripping tightly at the base of his skull, the space in between his shoulder blades, her hands grabbing fistfuls of black leather and pulling him close. He could hardly breathe but he wouldn't have it any other way. What breath was his, he would give to her gladly. Instead, he placed his hand on the center of her back, making sure that she was glued to him at every single point. He breathed her in, cherishing the smell of her perfume, of her shampoo, the feel of her hair against his cheek as he laid his head on top of hers. He immersed himself in her, and let himself drown

He didn't even recall Emma pulled her head back, but there she was, her blue eyes filled with sparkling tears that he brushed away with a trembling hand. Her smile was as fragile as the heart that was beating out of his chest. He leaned his forehead against hers, letting the reality of the situation sink in. He was going to say something, something important. He was going to tell her all that she meant to him. He was gong to apologize. But he never got the chance, not when Emma's hands were on his cheeks, brushing away teardrops he couldn't control, and pulling him down to her level.

And then they were kissing.

They hadn't been like this since Camelot. Or before Camelot really. It hadn't been just he and Emma, purely the two of them without the Dark One or stipulations or words left unsaid, since before Camelot during that one evening of pure bliss. He thought he'd known what it was like to love Emma Swan then; he thought he'd known what true love tasted like.

Well he was wrong.

True love tasted like the determination, the devotion and the struggles of the other. True love tasted like the hours spent in agony trying to make sure that the other was safe. True love tasted like loss and heartache and wanting but never having. True love tasted like a burden that was heavier than any other.

But it also tasted like freedom. True love tasted like smiles cast across ballrooms and promises whispered in the dead of night. True love tasted like inside jokes and hidden compliments and being so attuned to the other that they knew what they needed, what they wanted, how they felt. True love tasted like a warm sunny day in a meadow full of pink flowers and happy memories. True love tasted like a miracle sweeter than any other.

And to have all that emotion, all that love wrapped up in one kiss, well that was worth every second of agony.

When they parted, there wasn't anything left to say. The kiss said what neither of them could voice out loud. I need you. I love you. Stay with me. So they stood in the cold, content to be there in one another's presence. That was, until Emma started shivering.

"Come inside with me," she said, offering Killian her hand.

"As you wish love," he said, taking her hand without hesitation. Wherever she went, he would follow.

Together, they joined the party of family and friends gathered at Granny's. There was laughter and silliness. Someone had brought out a photo album, flipping through the pages. The photos were all fairly recent, and spaced out given their penchant for going off on extensive adventures. But it was still nice, to reminisce on the good times past, and look forward to the good times to come.

Cake was served, people came and went. Regina brought the baby and friends they hadn't seen in ages all stopped by to say hello. Soon the party wasn't even about Emma, but more about being together, which was just fine with her. It gave her more of an excuse to curl up next to Killian in the back booth and watch the party unfold before her. All of the people she cared for all in the same place, safe and sound.

It wasn't a happily ever after, but it was an after, and they would cherish it for as long as they could.