Here we are at last – the final chapter of this little adventure! Sorry that this update has been delayed, but I was reluctant to say good bye to this story, and I also had to re-work how and where the happenings I had planned for this chapter took place after seeing this past Sunday's episode. I don't want this to seem completely AU, even if this is the only chapter that isn't so much a missing scene in what has already happened on the show and is instead in the very near future. Let me know if you think it worked; I'd love to hear from you! I still don't own them, though most of the time I feel like they own my brain! Anyway, read on, and Enjoy!

"Islands in the Stream"

Chapter Eight: After All

Every fiber of Emma's being itches to join the fray, forgetting momentarily that she is hanging back on purpose, acting as a human shield to keep Henry from the worst of the fray. Chaos had erupted so suddenly on the deck of the Jolly Roger, just when it had seemed they were finally out of danger and nearly home. First, Regina's spell binding Pan's shadow to the mainsail had failed; the fiendish echo of Peter somehow working its way free and sending the pirate ship plummeting back into the Never Sea. The dark, bodiless mass still swoops menacingly over them, from bow to stern and back, diving and rushing at anyone it sees. This rallied Felix's malignant spirit, and he had picked up the first weapon he could lay his hand on, going straight toward David and Mary Margaret who were standing guard. The other Lost Boys seemed so frightened by the appearance of the Shadow and the fall from the sky which had arrested their escape that many didn't know what to do. Most, especially the smaller ones, huddled against the hull of the ship, as if hoping to escape Pan's wrath at their betrayal and getting caught in the crossfire of the fighting. Wendy and Tink moved to try to call them and keep them safe. A few, however, could apparently not shake off an entire childhood as Peter's minions and either fear of his retribution or honest bloodlust in their nature moved them to join in the battle. With oddly disturbing, youthful war cries, they leapt forward, engaging Regina, Neal, and Hook, while all three ordered Emma to stay with Henry.

She has been doing just that, reluctant to let her newly recovered son away from her side at any rate; she certainly does not want Peter Pan to have another chance to take him, even though she feels ridiculously helpless and aches to lend the rest of them a hand. The Shadow itself seems focused on Gold, and every dip and dive brings him closer and closer to the Dark One, who for all of his power and magic cannot seem to hurt, or even make contact with, the cloudy entity.

The rescue party is holding its own though, until Pan himself reappears. It happens so quickly and so strangely that Emma is stunned, her reaction time slowed. The Shadow sweeps past Gold once more, lower and closer than ever, and makes contact, knocking something from his jacket. The object goes skittering across the deck until it slides to a stop at Emma's feet. Gasping in surprise, she recognizes Pandora's Box from when Pan had gloatingly showed it to them at Skull Rock. She moves to pick it up before Pan's Shadow can get it and do real damage. Her movement is suddenly arrested, however, by a painfully tight hand pulling her hair hard enough to jerk her head back and a knife suddenly pressed against her throat.

Bewildered for several long, weighted moments, Emma cannot force her mind to accept who she knows must have ahold of her. There has been on one else behind her but…"Henry?" she whispers, doubting herself, wanting desperately to be wrong, heart thumping painfully and breaking a little more with each pulse. It is obvious now, from the unwavering strength in his painful grip and the clear malice rolling off of him in waves that this is Peter Pan in Henry's body, not her son at all. 'How did we not see?' she wonders, dazed.

She knows she should fight back, shrug him off, do some damage of her own. Yet, the small hand vengefully wielding the knife looks just like her son's, the sweet voice is his, even if his mocking answer is not. "Had you fooled, didn't I, Lost Girl?" he taunts. The niggling doubt, the fear that maybe this is Henry, that he does hate her, hasn't forgiven her for giving him up all those years ago, and his time with Pan on this mystifying, mind-jumbling island of despair has brought it out in him, comes rushing back in on her. She cannot bring herself to lift even a finger against the small form at her back, not even to save herself. If some small part in there is Henry, she won't.

"Now, Mom," his cruel, twisted emphasis on the motherly title makes her skin crawl and brings a tear burning to the corner of her eye, though Emma refuses to let it fall. "Be a dear and hold that troublesome box up where we can see it."

Trembling, she raises the hand which clutches Pandora's curse out in front of herself and her captor. The battle still rages around her, and Emma knows the others are not aware, have not yet realized the horror that has marred the rescue they were rejoicing. She knows Pan is about to ask her to open this monstrosity and let his body loose again, and she holds her breath, dreading the order. She looks up, hoping for some sign, some help, a connection with someone who can tell her what to do.

In that moment of need, her broken, despairing gaze finds those piercing, clear blue orbs that rival the very sea around them. Killian has just dispatched Felix at last – with David's help – and another of the older boys, when he glances to her. His gaze returns to hers; she realizes now that it always has, so often that she has grown used to the constancy and comfort of his concern and attention. It is as though he sensed her internal plea, the moment she thought it.

"Emma!" he calls out, his voice sounding strangled as he takes several steps toward them before Pan-in-Henry's-body orders him to stop and presses the knife even closer to her throat, tightly enough to break the skin.

Killian freezes, brought up so suddenly it seems he is pulled by invisible ropes. Emma hisses at the sting of the blade on her skin; her mind racing and yet still going too slowly to help her. "Her" pirate's eyes never leave hers, and she stares back, drawing strength from his presence, drinking in the emotion she knows is there. His desperation to get to her is written all over his beautiful face, and it no longer even shocks her to think of him as "hers", to look into his eyes and see Killian Jones at last instead of the infamous Captain Hook, or to know that if he were close enough to touch her she would feel safe.

Pan's voice is a low, spine-tingling growl when he speaks against her ear now. "Be a good girl, Savior, and open the lid for me…"

Emma tries to shake her head, unwilling to let Pan's body free when she doesn't know what that will mean for Henry. When she does though, she feels a trickle of blood from the blade at her neck and has to gasp for breath as he pulls her head so far back it blocks her airway. The eyes that meet hers then finally break her inability to fight back; pure evil seeps from their depths, and she finally sees that this cannot be Henry.

With an anguished cry, she suddenly throws all her weight backwards, into him, catching Pan by surprise, and giving her a couple inches' space between her throat and the knife. It's enough to let her kick backwards, knocking the child-sized form off its feet and then throw herself in the other direction.

Killian rushes forward, sword drawn to fight at her side as she picks herself up, and too many things happen at once… "Hook! No! Don't – " she cries out painfully, knowing it's too late, he can't stop himself now that he sees an opening, not when she is still in danger. She isn't even sure if she calls out more in concern for him or for her son's body which she still hopes to see Henry regain.

Unfortunately for them both, when Killian reaches their enemy, he hesitates a fatal second too long. His good heart won't let him attack Emma's son any more than she herself could. That momentary pause is all the innocent-looking demon needs. Laughing maniacally in a tone that is suddenly all Pan, he plunges the blade which had been at Emma's throat into Killian's chest.

Everything blurs before Emma's eyes as her captain staggers back and then falls heavily to his knees, hands grasping futilely at his chest. She sees the Shadow dive in to retrieve the box she has dropped, bringing the thing to its master. She hears everyone else springing into action behind them. Gold's powerful, commanding voice rings out, and Regina throws some spell that holds Henry's body frozen in place without injuring him. She knows now that they will sort out the Pan and Henry mix-up as she has failed to do. All she can manage is to stumble disjointedly to her pirate's side and fall to her knees where he is now lying, struggling to breathe.

His startling, cerulean eyes seek hers as soon as she draws near. Though their brilliance is clouded, already going glassy, she still thinks they are the most beautiful shade of blue she has ever beheld. His hand seeks hers hopefully, and she takes it without hesitation, squeezing his fingers tightly, as if she can hold onto him through her own sheer willpower.

"Are you alright, Emma lass?" he asks, his voice a rough whisper of its usual vibrant bravado, but still the concern and desire to protect her bring tears to her eyes.

Nodding, she attempts to reassure him, to stop him from worrying over her right now, though she finds herself certain that she won't emotionally recover from losing another person she cares for this much…not this time. "I'm fine," she quips, forcing herself to banter with him the way they have since they first met. "Better off than you are at the moment."

He starts to chuckle, then grunts in pain as the wound reasserts its presence. His reaction shatters her unconcerned façade, and she brings a hand up gently, as if trying to smooth the grimace from his handsome features and relax the tightness in his brow before coming to rest at the side of his face. "Why did you do that for me? Killian…What were you thinking?"

His voice is breathy now, every word a labor to be spoken. Whether it's the depth of the gash itself or poison that was on the blade, Emma doesn't know and hardly cares, as she leans closer to catch his words. "Love…I think…you know why…" he answers with a faint smile. With his last bit of strength, Killian Jones, not missing that she had finally called him by his real name with returned love in her tone only moments before, reaches up to brush away the tear that has trekked silently down the Savior's – his Savior's – cheek. When she lets out an accepting, welcoming sigh at the caress, he feels true fulfillment and peace for one glorious instant. A genuine smile graces lips that have too often spoken sarcasm and innuendo and frowned in hate and anger. He knows happiness again as his eyes drift closed.

"K-Killian…no…Open your eyes!" Emma begs softly. Raising his shoulders to cradle him against her, she rocks him unconsciously in her grief and horror. "Please…" she whispers, "Don't leave me…not now…"

A gentle hand comes to rest on her shoulder. Turning to glance up from tear-filled, swelling eyes, Emma sees Henry and stiffens, moving reflexively to protect Killian's body. Her son's eyes cloud sadly for a moment then fill with understanding. "No, Mom, I won't hurt him. I'm really me."

Emma glances behind him to see her parents, Gold, Regina, and Neal all there. Mary Margaret nods encouragingly, assuring her daughter of the truth, even as tears bead her eyelashes as well. "We can explain later," the brunette promises, "but he is back and he's okay. Pan's gone."

Throwing an arm out to pull Henry to her, Emma buries her face in his neck and breathes in his familiar scent. A wrenching sob escapes her, and she clutches him even tighter, relieved that she finally holds her son – all of him – again in her embrace, even if she can't yet bear to let go of Killian with her other arm.

Henry, always wise for his age, lets her hold him for a moment, hugging her back eagerly, gratefully, but then he wiggles in her grasp and pulls back to look her in the face. Quizzically, he glances at Killian's motionless form and asks, "Peter Pan used me to hurt him, didn't he?"

Emma doesn't want to lie to him, but she can't give him the truth either. "Henry, it's – "

"Mom," he interrupts, pegging her with a serious, thoughtful, almost knowing look. "You really care about him, don't you?"

She nods wordlessly, not sure what her son will think of this admission, knowing he had dreams of her returning to Neal and the three of them living as a family in the Enchanted Forest. Once, she would have cared what her parents, and even Neal, thought of her feelings as well, but after the sacrifice Killian just made, she won't deny what her heart has been trying to tell her all along. She knows it is the honest, gut-wrenching truth. Not that it matters now…Killian is gone…

"Then, you can bring him back!" Henry urges, hope dawning brightly on his face. "You have to kiss him, like Gramps and Grandma. You can save him!"

If she hadn't already been sure, she knows now that this is her Henry before her. After all that has happened, all he has been through, he is still the Truest Believer. His heart allows no room for doubt, even as that seems to be all that is left in hers. With every beat, she feels flutters of fear within her chest, as the damaged organ tries once more to piece its shattered bits together again. "Oh, Henry," she starts, "I don't know…It's not the same…"

Then suddenly Mary Margaret is beside her as well, falling to her knees beside her daughter and her grandson. "No, Emma, Sweetheart, believe. If he is your happily-ever-after, you have to try."

Her father is nodding as well, letting her know he is with her, whatever she is feeling. She does not allow her gaze to consider anyone else in the small circle surrounding them. Instead, she draws in a deep breath to steady herself and looks back at Killian's handsome face, so peaceful it seems he has just fallen asleep in her arms. The lost chances, missed opportunities, and the slimmest, barest possibility that she might still be able to fall asleep with her arms around him and wake up in his embrace seals the decision for her.

Her mother gives her hand a gentle squeeze, then backs away, giving her space and a moment to gather her resolve. Henry is almost vibrating with eagerness, no doubt excited to see true "good magic" at work after so much darkness. Emma is not sure why she is so unsure; she wants Killian back with her, wants to have a chance with him. Yet a cruel voice keeps reminding her that they have kissed before – and though it was the best, most overwhelming, appealing, heated kiss she's ever experienced – nothing otherworldly occurred. She almost can't bear to believe this might work; she balks at setting her hopes up to be crushed once more. What if nothing happens? What if he stays dead…gone forever?

"Mom, come on!" Henry urges, and she spares him a crooked, sidelong, half-smile, charmed by his child-like impatience, but also by his blind faith. She cherishes that about her little boy, though she is sure he didn't get that trait from her.

Finally, she feels her courage returning, and she tells herself that she can have her pirate rogue back again, smiling impishly at her, tossing out come-ons, and lighting fires in her soul. She didn't feel for him before what she does now. That first kiss had been pure want and desire; this one would be something else entirely. Maybe, just maybe…

She leans down, whispering so quietly that not even Henry hears it, "Wake up, Killian. I- I love you." Then she captures his lips with her own. At first, she panics, feeling nothing happening. No warm breath stirs against her face, his lips don't move in welcoming response to hers, his chest does not begin to rise and fall. Still, she has started now – she won't let herself draw back. She leans closer still, framing his face in her hands, lovingly stroking her scruffily bearded cheeks, pulling him into her kiss. She forces her mind and emotions to focus on all that he has done for her, all that he means to her. For once, she lets her guard down and refuses to shut off her feelings. Killian deserves to know that she loves him, deserves to hear those words from her. All she desires is for him to return to her, to open those deep, hypnotic eyes.

Then, not instantaneously, but gradually, realization dawns on her that something is changing. She feels blessed, pleasant warmth spreading throughout her body where there had only been cold emptiness. Killian's lips seem to grow more pliant, less frozen and lifeless. Encouraged, she keeps going. She is rewarded by a shiver in the air, as if the atmosphere itself holds its breath for a second then whips forward in elation. There's a golden glow of light surrounding her, Killian, and even Henry, and as it dulls gently, Killian moves and sucks in a long, desperate breath of air.

Emma yelps in surprise and relief, tears pouring down her face in a way she knows she's never allowed anyone else to see before. His arms are already wrapping around her of their own accord, even as his eyes do finally flutter open. He struggles to sit up with her in his arms, holding on tightly and effectively pulling her into his lap. They are both suddenly laughing, giddy with joy and stunned disbelief. Somehow between them they have merited a second chance and neither one of them plan to waste a moment of it.

"You're alive!" Emma exclaims, tracing her hands across his brow and then down around his shoulders to hug him tightly to her again, kissing him playfully on the nose. "It worked!"

"Aye, Love," he smiles at her adorably; too happy to see her safe and unharmed and finally accepting him to gloat that he had always known they were meant to be. "It was True Love's Kiss. Don't you hero types always believe that will save the day?"

She shakes her head at him, so full of hope, exhilaration, and promise that she can't even pretend to argue. She just wants to hold onto him and Henry both and never let go. Killian brushes her tears away gently, Henry wraps his arms around them in a hug, and she marvels at how right it feels. As if she finally, truly belongs with someone – two someones – who are hers…her family. After all the time she has spent lost, closed off, with no one but herself to depend on, this seems like more than she deserves, more than she can fathom.

Killian quirks a brow at her; glee is evident in his face, tempting her even in jest. "Didn't I tell you we'd make quite the team, Lass?"

"You did indeed, Captain," she murmurs, reeling him back in with a heated look of her own. "Just this once, I think it's time I admit you were right." Then they are kissing again, everything and everyone else fading away, and Emma's heart is so full of happiness that she wonders if it might truly burst. She hasn't felt like a part of all the fairytales she has learned are real and true – until now, as she finally gets her own happy ending.

"Islands in the Stream,

That is what we are;

No one in between

How can we be wrong?

Sail away with me, to another world

Where we'll rely on each other…"