Author's Note: Yes, this is the second chapter in as many days but it just came out on its own so I figured it wanted to be told. It's also the last in this little perspective piece, so I hope you've enjoyed the story! Thank for you the reviews and follows and favorites; y'all are the best. :)

Emma Swan heaved a soft sigh as she turned her head to check the time. Her sigh turned into a quiet groan. It was two in the morning and she hadn't slept a damn wink since crawling into bed over three hours ago.

As her impromptu nap after dinner had proved, she'd certainly been tired enough to sleep earlier. Hell, she was still tired now. She wanted nothing more than to let oblivion take her away for a little while but unfortunately for her, her brain had other ideas.

It simply refused to shut off. All she'd done since drawing the blanket up to her chin was run the day's events over and over in her mind's eye. That was not at all how she'd planned on her day going when she got out of bed this morning. If she could have had her own way, her family would never have known about her visions at all. All knowing about them would do was worry everyone. With life the way it was in Storybrooke and beyond, sometimes it felt like all they did was worry. She hadn't wanted to add to that.

And yeah, some of her reasons for wanting to keep her fate a secret were selfish, too. If everyone knew, that would make it real. She wouldn't be able to pretend it wasn't happening on the rare occasions she managed to make herself forget. And if everyone knew, everything between them would change. Everything they did, everything they said, it would all be tinged with sadness and worry and fear.

So no, she hadn't wanted them to find out at all but to find out the way they found out? Archie spilling in front of everyone had been bad enough but then to find out it had been the Evil Queen in disguise? Emma's stomach had started roiling then and hadn't really stopped since.

Now everyone knew. Now it was real. And now everything was different.

For example, Snow had called her earlier to say good night. Normally they traded good night texts out of deference to their now somewhat separate lives. A phone call to the apartment could potentially wake a fussy baby Neal and a phone call to the house could interrupt any number of things so Snow had started texting instead of calling the first night following Killian's return from the Underworld. Tonight, though … tonight she actually called.

And it wasn't just her mom. David got on the phone next, wishing his baby girl sweet dreams. He even held the phone up to a sleepy little Neal's ear so the little squirt could babble his own good night. If they couldn't be there with her physically, they apparently at least wanted hear her voice and let her hear theirs.

In another example of things behind different now, Henry had fought going to bed in a way he hadn't since Emma first returned from the Enchanted Forest. Sometimes it seemed like he'd grown up so much since then but sometimes she would be reminded that he was still very young, too young to have to deal with some of the things that had happened in recent years. Tonight he'd kept pushing for more and more rounds of Uno until the three of them were practically falling asleep over their cards. Only then had Henry finally agreed to go to bed and he'd sounded so very young and scared when he asked Emma to stay until he fell asleep.

She'd done so, of course, because how could she deny him? He was scared and she was the reason he was scared. Plus, she'd needed that time with him, too, time to commit everything about him to memory and hold onto the moment for as long as she could.

After Henry was asleep, Emma had headed into her own room and curled up under the covers with Killian. Even though the day had been long for both of them, it had taken him a long time to settle into sleep. Her back was pressed against his chest and she could feel the tension in his body, as if he were trying to keep himself awake so he could savor every last moment. She could hear the hitch in his breath as he tried to keep his emotions in check. Only when Emma reached behind her for his arm and snake it over her hip did he relax, burying his nose in her hear so he could breathe her in. He'd finally drifted off then and he still held her now, his arm draped across her stomach even in unconsciousness.

But Emma still couldn't sleep. All she'd done in the three hours since sliding under the covers was stare at the ceiling and try to get her brain to shut the hell off.

She was scared, really scared. She didn't want to die. After all those long and brutal years of loneliness, she finally had everything she should have had her entire life. She had family and friends and love and comfort and support and togetherness and now it was going to be taken from her? Because of some stupid destiny she'd never asked for and didn't even want a good majority of the time?

It wasn't fair.

Sudden anger burned inside her, itching for release. She couldn't stay in bed anymore. Very carefully, she lifted Killian's arm from her stomach and slipped out of bed. After making sure she hadn't disturbed his slumber, she crept from the bedroom and headed downstairs.

How could it end like this? She'd saved everyone else's happily ever afters and for her troubles, she was destined for an early death? Why put her through everything she went through – her childhood and the darkness and the Underworld and having to leave Killian there – just to have it end like this?

Why did her kid have to grow up without his mom? Why did her parents have to bury their daughter? Why did her baby brother have to grow up with only stories to remember her by? And why send Killian back here, back to a future with her, if that future wasn't meant to be?

Hadn't they all given enough? Hell, hadn't Emma herself sacrificed enough? Why did being the savior come with a damn death sentence?

As if on autopilot, she'd made her way to the kitchen. She'd had every intention of soothing herself with some cocoa – from a packet, unfortunately, solely because of the hour – but she stopped short when she realized that the plates and mugs from her and Killian's pizza-and-rum dinner were still soaking in the sink.

Rather than dirty another mug, Emma supposed she could wash out one of those for her middle-of-the-night cocoa. She reached for one but her anger, now at release point, took control. As soon her her hand touched the cool porcelain, she grasped the poor unsuspecting mug, spun on her heels, and whipped it at the wall with an aggravated grunt.

The mug shattered with the most satisfying smashing sound. It was so satisfying a sound that the second mug joined it a moment later, its broken pieces falling to the floor to join those of its brethren.

Emma had just wrapped her hand around one of the plates when strong arms wrapped around her from behind. "Shh, love," a soft, accented voice whispered in her ear. "It's all right."

Something about his voice – so soothing and so perfect and good God how could she lose him? – brought her crashing back down to Earth. The anger dissipated in an instant and in its place now resided heavy, heavy anguish and grief.

Tears Emma hadn't even been aware were forming now trickled down her cheeks. A sob escaped and Killian's arms tightened around her in response. He gently guided her down until they were both sitting on the floor. "Let it out, love. It's all right, just let it out."

And she did. She cried for all the things she should have had but didn't. She cried for all the things she was going to miss. She cried for her parents having to lose her a third time, she cried for Henry and little Neal having to grow up without her. She cried for Killian and the future they wouldn't have. And she cried for all the things that might have been, all the things that now would never be.

Throughout it all, Killian held her and murmured soft words of encouragement into her ear. It seemed like it took forever but eventually her sobs dwindled to choked hiccups, sniffles, and heavy breaths. Only then did Killian release her and shift around so he could see her face. "There we go, Swan. I was wondering when you were going to have your meltdown."

That got her to chuckle. She sniffled back the rest of her tears. "I'm sorry my meltdown woke you."

"There's nothing to apologize for. As a matter of fact, I'm glad to see this."

"You're glad I had a meltdown?"

The look on his face was one of complete sincerity. "No, of course not. I would give anything to have spared you this entire situation. I meant I'm glad you feel the anger and the injustice of this every bit as we do. It means you're not accepting your seeming fate. It means you'll fight it with everything you have."

"I will." And oh God, she would. She did not want to lose this. She wanted her own happily ever after.

"I know you will. And we'll be right beside you, Swan, every step of the way. If some grand destiny wants to take you, it's going to have to go through your parents, your lad, and me first."

And right there was the support and love that the lost little girl inside Emma could have only ever dreamed about. "And me, too."

Killian smiled at her before drying her cheeks with his index finger. "Aye, and you, too. Suffice it to say, some anonymous hooded figure wielding a sword has their work cut out for them, getting to you."

Emma smiled back. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Now what do you say we try to go back to bed, hmm?"

"I should clean up the mess–"

"The mess can sit until morning." He pushed himself to his feet first then grasped her hand and helped her up off the floor. "Come, Swan. You must be exhausted."

And oh God, she was. Her outburst had finally pushed her over the edge. As Killian walked her back upstairs, she released a soft breath. It was the epitome of cheese but Emma was putting her trust in the power of love. She had every belief that the love of her family could beat anything because, as she'd learned, love was strength.