Emma had been fine. Mostly fine.

She had momentarily triumphed over the darkness; she hadn't killed Merida; she had hugged him and Henry and David with every ounce of her being; she had taken his arm and hand as they walked into Camelot.

She may have been the Dark One, but it hadn't taken over her yet.

She was still his Swan.

What had happened during those six weeks?

He watched his Emma strolling through Granny's, her face as pale as frost, her hair as white as snow, and her lips as red as blood. Her new outfit was becoming to her figure, but the woman in front of him wasn't his Emma, not really. She was the Dark One. The Dark Swan.

He watched Snow flinch away from her daughter. Regina reached for the dagger that wasn't at her side. Sneezy was turned to stone. But he couldn't look away from her.

"And now—for what you all did to me, you're about to be punished."

And that's what bothered him most. He had never lost his memory like this before; even if it was only six weeks like the departed dwarf had said, it was six weeks he couldn't remember. Six weeks, when he must have wronged his Emma at some point.

Obviously, since she remembered and she was now the fully-fledged Dark One.

And that was what hurt him most of all. The last time he remembered seeing her, she was struggling, but slowly conquering, the darkness. What had happened—what had they done—what had he done—that had shaped her into the gorgeously dark woman before him?

Finally, he spoke.

"Emma. Why are you doing this?"

She whirled around to face him as he spoke.

"Because—"

For just a moment, she faltered. For just a moment, the diamonds in her eyes softened. But it wasn't enough. That brief flash of Emma disappeared and the Dark Swan took her place.

"I am the Dark One."

With a puff of grey smoke, she was gone. And as the smoke dissipated, Killian Jones's heart finally finished breaking.