One Day (5/7)
Summary: By day, Emma is the beautiful swan gliding over the waters of Misthaven’s pond, but when night falls, the voice of the wolf the people living in the little town hear is Killian’s cry. The curse was meant to be forever, to keep them always together yet eternally apart. No force in Heaven would be able to break such spell, nor any force on Earth. Or so Emma and Killian thought.
A/N: I’m so SO happy to finally share this chapter of my @cssns fic with you, which includes one of the two (now three) scenes I’ve been dying to write when I first came up with this fic. I am just thrilled. It really makes me want to sit back and eat pop corn as I wait for your reactions hehe
The chapter is also a gift of sorts to @carpedzem because she deserves all the happiness in the world and freedom from the tyranny of exams ;)
Many may thanks to @profdanglaisstuff for her beta skills - prepositions are the worst, guys, but she’s my savior - and @sherlockianwhovian for the wonderful art ♥
A special thanks to the ladies in the CSSNS and CSMM discord chats for their support and their help with the blobfish problem.
And now, enjoy :3
(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (ao3)
Chapter 5
Killian Jones had never been a man to ask for more than what life gave him.
Granted, he knew he was a lucky bastard. Despite the absence of a father figure—shoes that Liam filled perfectly and perhaps one time too many—he’d still had a family growing up, one that compensated with love what it might lack in prosperity when money was tight and he had to wear second-hand clothes.
Finding out about Storybrooke and moving to the little town across the pond had been another stroke of luck, allowing all his family to finally settle in peace without having to be careful around people. Moving to Storybrooke meant no more looking over his shoulder whenever a cloud of vermillion smoke appeared and conjured an object in the palm of his hand that wasn’t there before.
Storybrooke meant happiness.
Until he met Emma.
Afterwards, Emma meant happiness.
Even after years of being together, Killian couldn’t ask for a better partner, for a better soulmate. In these two years as a wolf, he had learned what the saying “they mate for life” meant. His wolf - Fenrir, as she loved to call him - always threatened to take over, and sometimes it did. Fortunately, it had never attacked a human being, but it didn’t make Killian fear the wolf less. The half-life he led allowed him to keep himself sane, to not fall prey of the wolf’s most animalistic needs, but even in canine form, Killian knew he had to protect Emma, that it was his duty to stay by her side and watch over her. Rationally, he knew his wife could be her own savior, but there would always be a part of him, human or animal, that would fight tooth and nail to keep her safe.
The wolf didn’t know Henry, but Killian was sure it would recognize him. The curse was diabolical and he would’ve probably lost himself had he not had a purpose: his love for his family had been his North star through hell, and now he had the chance to put an end to it, once and for all.
The sun would set soon, he could feel the tendrils of the curse wrap around his bones, ready to break and rearrange them. His skin prickled, and he fought the impulse to scratch his arm.
Standing next to him, Henry was looking at the lake in front of them. Emma had decided to stay beside their son and not to take a swim. Killian wasn’t sure it would work, but he had to try.
It was Henry who broke the silence. «Why are we here?» he asked slowly, hazel eyes stealing a glance at his father’s profile.
Killian released a sigh through his teeth, the hand that wasn’t placed on his son’s shoulder clenching into a fist. «If we want to defeat Regina, we will need a suitable weapon.» It was so strange for him to talk about it, to explain who he was to his own son. Part of him worried that Henry would resent him for not telling him the truth sooner. He drew in a deep breath, turning to face Henry.
«When I was eleven, before I came here, your Grandmother brought Liam and me to visit the castle of Tintagel, our last family trip in England before crossing the pond.»
Henry furrowed his eyebrows, his nose scrunching up slightly like Emma’s. Killian felt a twinge in his chest. «Isn’t that the place historians believe to be King Arthur’s castle?»
My boy, so bright for his age, Killian thought with a sudden surge of pride. «Aye,» he replied, incapable of stopping himself from ruffling the boy’s hair. Then, he sighed. «We were having lunch near what they call Merlin’s cave, a wonderful place which opens on the sea. Mum had prepared sandwiches for our little trip, but Liam and I couldn’t stay put, continuously pranking each other.» He stopped again, scratching at his jaw, wondering how to explain what had happened next. «At some point, I ended up falling in the water, knees scraped and slightly bleeding. It was then that-»
Killian swallowed, shaking his head. No, although his son did believe in magic, there was only so much that he could accept. Taking another deep breath, Killian knew what the had to do.
«It’s best if I show you.» Hoping that it will work again.
From the inner pocket of his leather jacket, he pulled out a switchblade and walked to the shore of the small lake. Henry followed suit, curious as ever, and so did Emma.
The slight discomfort of the blade slicing his palm open made him shiver, a passing pain that helped amplify the tension he was feeling. He extended his arm out, tightening his fist to let a few droplets of blood fall into the dark waters below.
At first, nothing happened, the water stopped rippling the moment it swallowed the last drop and stayed still. Then, an inexplicable feeling washed over Killian, something akin to anticipation. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms rose.
A pale mist lazily approached them, sliding above the water without disturbing it. To Killian, it appeared as if he’d gone back in time, calves deep in the chilly water and his mother’s terrified cries piercing the air. Next to him, it had been his brother to clamp a hand over his shoulder, ready to shield him from any evil, and not his son tightening his fingers around the buttery leather of his jacket.
His lungs filled with cold air once more, and all around him everything quieted down: no bird sang, and the distant laughter of children faded, leaving an eerie silence upon them.
When he swept his eyes over the horizon, Killian couldn’t help but squint, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he studied the shadow behind the mist. The unmistakable shape of a tiny island seemed to have come out of nowhere. It must be just an illusion, he told himself, knowing that island couldn’t be actually there. But if I could call her here, perhaps it appears wherever she’s needed.
Although he wished he could keep wondering and making theories about her magic, Killian’s attention was averted from the island to the lake.
Tall, proud auger shells were the first thing they saw emerging from the water, and Killian couldn’t help but look down at Henry to gauge his reaction.
Pure wonder shone in the kid’s eyes, so impossibly wide, much like his mouth, hanging open as he witnessed something he never thought he would see.
The shells crowned a waterfall of ebony hair with shiny pearls intertwined in the silky strands, but what was most beautiful was not the white gown that spoke of ages past, or her delicate and innocent face, with eyes as green as seaweed and a smile that could bring any man to his knees.
No, the most beautiful thing was the sword fluctuating over her open palms.
It emanated a bright light, but Killian could still make out its form, though it was probably a trick of his own mind; he had, after all, spent many hours cataloguing its every curve and engraving and searching the meaning behind the decorations on the hilt.
«Killian Jones. It’s been a long time.»
The woman spoke with the voice of an angel, surreal and enchanting. She glided over the water without disturbing it, her dry figure finally reaching the shore. There, she stopped, eyes falling on Henry and then on Emma, features shifting.
Her expression startled Killian: she was heartbroken.
Sad eyes lifted to meet his. «You are enduring a harsh curse, my King, fated to live a half life and separated from those you love.» She tilted her head, not accusatory, just confused. «Why haven’t you called upon him, I wonder?»
A muscle pulsed in Killian’s jaw. He should have known the question would come. «I wished not to speak with him, for he would give me no answer to my questions, nor a solution for this curse. Both of you speak in riddles, my Lady, and this is no such time for those.»
As if chastised, the woman bent her head, but a small smile played on her lips. «I see,» she commented, reassuming her position. «I was surprised when Excalibur reappeared, I worried something had happened to your family. And yet, I knew you were not dead, nor was your heir.»
«This curse,» Killian began, waving his hand around, the blood now dry and uncomfortably coating his palm, «swept my home away, and all it contained with it. I assumed the sword wouldn’t just disappear, but I did not realize it could be so easily retrieved until-»
«Until the man you have loathed your whole life suggested you look here?»
Killian cursed the voice and the man it belonged to. Of bloody course, he thought, spinning around to see a hooded figure walking past the line of trees. It reminded him of the first time they met, only they were miles and miles away from the illuminated cave.
«Merlin,» Killian gritted through his teeth.
«Merlin?» Henry squeaked, looking up at his father. «That Merlin?»
A low, warm chuckle came from beneath the hood as hands came up to pull it back and reveal the infamous sorcerer.
After all those years, the man hadn’t changed at all, both in appearance and methods. He still seemed to be in his early thirties at most, and yet had the ability to appear ageless, with a tawny complexion and short, black hair, not at all what Killian had expected Merlin to look like, anticipating an old man with a long beard and a pointy hat instead. On his face was the usual, enigmatic smile that still riled Killian up.
«Aye, lad, that Merlin,» the sorcerer replied, walking over to them. His deep brown eyes seemed to smile as well as he talked to Henry, whose mouth was still hanging open in shock.
Licking his lips, Killian glared at the newcomer. True, Merlin had asked him not to blame Gold, and true, there was nothing to blame, not really. Besides, Killian knew when to admit he was wrong--treating Gold like he was the enemy hadn’t prevented Regina from casting the curse and damning them all.
«Cool,» Henry breathed, eyes shining with wonder, before looking up at his father. «So you are a descendant of King Arthur?»
Before Killian could answer, Merlin spoke. «It’s slightly more complicated than that, I fear. When he died, Arthur didn’t have an heir to whom he would pass his legacy on. I prophesied Arthur would come back when his kingdom needed him the most. The ability to see the future is tricky, and rarely gives a clear answer.»
Killian couldn’t help but chortle at those words, blatantly ignoring Merlin’s glare.
«I had my theories about how said prophecy would be fulfilled, and one of them involved reincarnation. Now, your father is his own person, of course, it’s not as if Arthur is trapped inside of him, dormant, nothing like that. Their souls, however, are intertwined.»
Henry was as confused as Killian had been the first and only time he talked with Merlin. Although Killian did know more about magic than he had when he was eleven, not even he could wrap his head around the concept of reincarnation and his soul being tied to the King of Camelot, the once and future King. Monarchy is not quite dead, but nobody would ever call me “King”, nor do I want them to.
«My King,» a gentle voice called out to get his attention.
Killian couldn’t help but blush at that, forcing himself not to look at Emma who, he imagined, was surely interested in what was happening as much as their son.
«Aye, my Lady?»
The Lady of the Lake, who had introduced herself as Nimue the first time they met, gave him a contrite smile. «I fear my magic won’t last for much longer. We must make haste.»
«Nimue is right, Killian. I can feel myself weakening with every second,» Merlin added, an apologetic expression etching his features.
«Why can’t you stay and help us?» Henry asked, almost pleading. To have someone as powerful as Merlin on their side would smooth their way to success.
The sorcerer gave him a pained, sorrowful smile. «The curse prevents Avalon from fully manifesting itself. Nimue and I are both just a realistic illusion. Only Excalibur is immune to the dark magic at work here, and thus it can be returned to its true master.»
Killian nodded, turning to the Lady. A shiver ran down his spine when he realized he could see through her, now, the shape of Avalon almost fading as well.
Nimue smiled kindly, like a proud mother. «I return Excalibur to you, my King. May it serve you well against the darkness.»
Feeling his heart thundering in his chest, Killian stepped forward. The moment his fingers wrapped around the grip, he felt as though a surge of magic had shot right through him, lighting up his blood and awakening something buried deep within his soul. Just like the first time.
Solemnly, Killian drew the sword in front of him, letting it stand tall with the setting sun catching the edge of the blade. Unlike when he first wielded it, Killian felt something else awakening inside of him, the knowledge that he now had a purpose and that he wouldn’t have peace until it was fulfilled.
When he lowered the sword, Killian bent his head. «Thank you, my Lady,» he said solemnly, only to watch her disappear into thin air soon after with one last, encouraging smile on her face.
A slight pressure on his shoulder made him lift his eyes to meet Merlin’s, his form slightly less transparent than Nimue’s but fading still. «I trust you won’t use the sword unless you have no other choice. Remember, even the smallest cut can condemn someone to death.»
A nick is all I need, Killian thought to himself, nodding. He glanced furtively at Henry, who was listening to the conversation as well. «Excalibur will serve its purpose, Merlin. I will be careful.»
The only reason why Killian had not thought about a gun or his own magic was because he had no clue whether Regina had somehow found an enchantment to shield herself. If he shot her, she would stop the bullet mid-air; if he cast a spell, she could counterattack. Excalibur, however, was immune to any kind of magic.
It was a good thing that he’d kept his true nature hidden all these years, otherwise who knew what Regina might have done. Thankfully, she wouldn’t be able to wield the sword, for it turned to dust when touched by anyone who wasn’t worthy.
This would make things easier, though.
Merlin studied Killian’s face, reluctantly accepting his words. «I bid you farewell, then, Killian. Master Henry. Lady Emma.»
Killian watched mutely as the wizard disappeared and the air suddenly became lighter. In the distance, birds began to sing again.
«So,» Henry started, slowly, «you are a king. And you have a magic sword.»
Killian scratched behind his ear, looking at Emma as if she could help him. There was a look in her eyes that said “you’re on your own, buddy”, and he knew her well enough to be sure that she would be looking at them with her arms crossed over her chest and a raised eyebrow. What would he have given to see her standing just like that.
At last, Killian returned his attention to Henry. «Aye. It’s… difficult to accept, I know, and I will understand if you aren’t able to-»
«Dad,» Henry cut him off, frowning, «how could I not accept something so cool?»
Killian almost choked on his breath. «Cool?»
Henry nodded. «Cool.» He shrugged. «It doesn’t change who you are, Dad, you are and always will be my hero, as is Mom. You being a king doesn’t change anything to my eyes. You are my Dad. You could turn into a blobfish every time you touched water and I wouldn’t love you any less.»
For the fraction of a moment, Killian saw Henry’s words become true in front of his eyes. It took all he had not to shudder and focus on his son’s words instead, love spreading through him like a tidal wave that touched every inch of his body. He wrapped his free arm around Henry’s shoulder, drawing him to his chest and hugging him tightly. With a deep sigh, Killian bent his head and kissed the top of Henry’s hair, eyes closing in bliss.
Henry’s thin arms wrapped around his torso and hugged him just as tightly. Killian didn’t actually care whether he could breathe or not.
Soon, too soon, Killian felt the call of the moon, the curse reaching out to him again. They needed to get away from there soon.
With another kiss on Henry’s forehead, Killian said: «Come, we need to go back to the pawnshop. The sun is about to set and we there’s so much to do.»
Henry’s eyes widened, knowing all too well that he had to get back to the house soon, or Regina would send a search party. This breaks the routine, he thought restlessly, tightening his grip on his father.
«Is it time already?» he whispered with a small voice.
Killian sighed, sensing his son’s fear. «After so many sunsets?» he murmured almost to himself. He would’ve fought with all his being to keep Henry by his side, and would’ve sacrificed the chance of sharing a complete life with Emma if it meant keeping their son away from Regina tonight, but he also knew Henry, and he would’ve not let them lose the only chance they had of finally being reunited.
Slowly, Killian started towards the trees, Henry beneath his arm. He glanced at the swan on the other side of their son. «Did you hear, love? I’m cool.»
The sound Emma made, something that could probably be classified as a scoff, had her two boys succumbing to a fit of laughter.
-/-
The pawnshop was closed to the public, but not to the three figures moving in the shadows created by the setting sun.
They entered through the back door Mr. Gold had left open for them; they arrived to find the wizard bent over several open tomes scattered over the table. When he looked up and saw Henry, his expression softened and a smile curved his lips.
«I see you kept alive the family motto,» he observed, using irony to conceal his relief and glee. His eyes fell on the sword in Killian’s hand. «Ah, you’ve found what you were looking for.»
Killian’s eyes narrowed, noticing the light in Mr. Gold’s eyes. He knew he had nothing to fear, Excalibur had its own self-defense mechanism and he was sure the wizard wouldn’t be immune to that, as powerful as he was. Yet, the thought of someone else wielding that sword just felt… wrong.
Safely in Henry’s arms, Emma started to grow restless. Killian looked at her, sensing the curse start to claim him.
As if reading their thoughts, Gold announced: «I took the liberty of preparing a room upstairs. It’s not been used in a while, but it’s safe.» He gestured to a tiny door on the other side of the room.
Killian’s jaw clenched, but not because of the thoughtfulness of the wizard: he didn’t want to shift and lose time with Henry, not now that they’d finally found one another. However, he couldn’t let his son see the transformation, he couldn’t be the cause of more heartbreak.
Slowly, Killian knelt in front of Henry, looking up at those wide hazel eyes that had already seen too much for their young age. «I need to steal your mother away for a few moments, lad. I wish I didn’t have to say goodbye to you this way, that I could stay, but soon the sun will set and I-» He cut himself off, shaking his head to put an order to his thoughts. «I will understand if you don’t want to see me as a wolf, after-»
«Dad,» it was Henry’s turn to cut him off, «do you remember what I said about the blobfish thing? It goes for wolves as well. And, wolves are cooler than blobfishes.»
Killian couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He stood, kissing the top of Henry’s head as he effortlessly gathered the swan in one arm. «Come, then, love.»
The swan protested, almost snapped her beak at Killian, who arched an eyebrow.
«Come on, Mom, go. I will wait here,» Henry reassured her, smoothing the feathers on the neck still wrapped around her boy’s shoulders.
Reluctantly, she let go, neck twisting to circle Killian’s as if trying to make up for the warmth she just lost.
Bending forward to wrap his other arm around Henry, carefully maneuvering Excalibur around, Killian placed another kiss on top of Henry’s head and hugged him tight. «Take care of our Lady Swan, tell her I love her,» he murmured in his ear, almost choking on the words. «You two are my life, my last and best reason for living.»
Henry’s arms seemed to want to bruise Killian’s ribs, but he didn’t care.
Killian conceded himself another minute before stepping away. He turned to Gold, who had gone back to his books, giving them as much privacy as he could. «Thank you,» he said, not bothered in the slightest. It was true, he was thankful, and now, he understood Merlin’s words better. Besides, as much as he might not like it, the man was in love with Belle and had changed. Perhaps they would never be friends, but he might not mind having the wizard around.
Gold raised his head and nodded, thus burying the hatchet. «The lad and I will prepare hot chocolate for Mrs. Jones.» He looked at the grandfather clock, then at Henry. «I’m afraid the time at your disposal is running out.»
It was almost six in the evening, and though the curse might have changed some aspects of most people’s routine, Henry didn’t want to push his luck. Having to spend another night in that dreadful house wouldn’t be as bad now that he knew his torture would end tomorrow.
With another tight, heartfelt hug, Killian forced himself to leave his son downstairs, along with his heart.
The apartment above the shop was tiny, suspended in time, just like the rest of the town. It opened over a kitchen and a living room, with a corridor on the opposite side, one door on the left and one on the right.
As he peered inside the door on the left, he was pleasantly surprised to see the sack with his belongings on the bed, along with an old-looking sheath. His eyebrows shot upwards. Can’t say the man doesn’t think of everything.
After sheathing Excalibur, Killian placed the sword next to the bed, a bed Emma had made herself comfortable on. He knew she was tired, he was as well, but the knowledge that she could soon hug their son was enough to keep her awake.
Begrudgingly, Killian began undressing, not wanting to tear those clothes apart, too.
The bedroom faced west, ironically enough, the last rays of sun casting a golden orange light that made everything appear ethereal. Even Emma’s swan form seemed to glow. Had it not been so heartbreaking, Killian would’ve been fascinated.
It was not often that they changed like this, trying to catch a glimpse of each other in that fraction of a second the sun needed to completely fall behind the horizon. After the first few times, the cognizance that they couldn’t touch or talk to one another made it even more heartbreaking, crushing all hope they had left.
If he closed his eyes, Killian could see her naked form, spun gold hair curling over the creamy skin of her back, a goddess before his eyes. He fought back tears, sitting cross-legged on the side of the bed, one arm outstretched to caress her neck, imagining that there he would roll a strand of her golden hair between thumb and forefinger, wondering why that goddess had chosen him.
Painfully, Killian forced himself to open his eyes. He felt the curse grip him so tightly his bones almost snapped in a half.
Not yet, he pleaded, but even if they wept for the star-crossed lovers, neither the sun or all the stars in the sky could stall long enough to let them steal a moment of happiness.
«I love you,» he murmured, wishing he could shift in a way that allowed him to still touch her.
Without thinking twice, Killian used the last of his human will to lie on the bed next to Emma, knowing that Fenrir would never hurt her.
Fighting the light, he kept his eyes trained on her, gritting his teeth against the pain.
Emma’s eyes shone with heartbreak. She was this close to placing her head over his chest when she felt the same pain snapping her bones and elongating them.
Neither could define how shifting worked, though she was pretty sure it was almost the same thing Ruby went through every full moon - at least for Killian. Emma, on the other hand, had nothing to compare that sensation to, but after years, she’d learned to live with it.
Will I miss it, somehow?, she found herself wondering, another sign that her body was about to become hers once more.
The return of conscious thought was even more proof that the change was near, so near she could taste the magic on her tongue, even.
She stared right into Killian’s eyes, not wanting to miss any single moment, this time, the last sunset they’d have to spend apart.
Her heart started to beat faster in her chest, and suddenly, her small body elongated, feathers turned into skin and the world she’d lived in since dawn tilted on its axis, and she felt more like herself, more human.
Or maybe, just human.
She opened her eyes, which had fallen shut in the midst of the change. Her vision wasn’t entirely right, not what she was used to in her human form, but she could see him, she could see how blue were his eyes, how long lashes framed them and the memory of them fluttering against her cheek when they kissed washed over her.
A sob caught in her throat, as she lifted a very much human hand towards him, wanting, yearning to touch him but scared to do so. She felt tears filling her eyes. He was so beautiful, with the rays of the sun highlighting those tiny specks of gold in his irises.
The light filtered between her fingers, creating a distorted shadow over his jaw, as if she was caressing him. She didn’t dare speak, marvelling that she was finally conscious enough to treasure that moment. Was it the curse on the town that, somehow, allowed them a bit of respite and peace, even just for a long, endless second, more than what they ever had?
And then, as soon as Emma felt a spark of relief blooming in her heart, the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, and Killian changed into the most beautiful wolf she’d ever seen.
The hand she’d lifted in front of her fell almost lifeless on the luscious, soft pelt, nothing like the skin she now barely remembered.
The tears she’d pushed back broke the dam of her self-control, and Emma could only bury her face in the wolf’s neck and cry, because yes, it all would be over soon, but it didn’t mean the separation hurt less.
-/-
There was no need for a leather jacket inside the shop, but Emma wouldn’t be separated from it, just like she couldn’t be separated from her son.
They were sitting next to each other, her arm wrapped around his tiny shoulders and her lips always finding their way to his forehead. On the other side of Henry, sat the wolf, his head on the boy’s lap. As he’d declared earlier, Henry wasn’t scared of Fenrir; in fact, he was quite taken with him, scratching behind his ears like he would any dog.
Perhaps we should get one, Emma thought quietly to herself, remembering their life before the curse, when she and Killian were debating dogs. They had also talked about having another kid, but…
Emma banished the thought, it was not the time to think about that. They would have time, after.
The plan Gold had come up with was solid, tricky, yes, but Killian would be distraction enough to allow the wizard to conjure the magic. Even if magic came and the eclipse didn’t happen immediately, Regina had not spent the last two years learning new spells and tricks. They had to confide that her abilities were rusty and that she would have the same difficulties she always had.
Her other hand lifted the mug of hot chocolate that was slowly getting cold. After one sip, she leaned her cheek on Henry’s hair, breathing in his scent, glaring at the grandfather clock ticking time away. Every tick-tock meant another second lost, her time with her son running out. It was unfair that Killian had had more time with him, but there was no one else to blame but Regina. Emma could never resent her husband for that, especially not after all this time.
«It’s about time you head back, Henry,» Gold murmured, limping into the room. He’d given them time to be alone with each other, no talk of what tomorrow would bring.
Emma felt like growling, but she was beaten to it by Killian, his growl low and menacing. But Henry only sighed in defeat, dropping his head.
If it were up to her, Emma wouldn’t have let him go back to Regina’s house. How could she, as a mother, allow that? True, Henry would do it without a second thought, but Emma was having a hard time accepting it. She wanted to keep him in her arms and never let go.
«Mom,» Henry murmured, squeezing her in a side hug. God, how she’d missed him calling her that, Mom. She almost started to cry again. «I have to go. I will be fine. Now that I know that you two are here, there’s nothing I fear.»
She couldn’t contain the sob that erupted from her throat, and she hugged him even tighter. My boy, my wonderful, brave boy. She wasn’t surprised by the young man he’d grown up to be, bearing the knowledge of being all alone in the town he was raised in, but it was painful that she had not been there for him in the time of need.
But she was here now, and she wouldn’t let the fear of losing her son again keep her from doing her duty. It would be painful, much more than being in Misthaven and knowing that he was here, but she would resist, and hold on to the promise that, tomorrow, everything would be over, that her family would be whole once again.
Just one more day.