hidden blessing (14/?)
Summary: Killian thought the only thing he was left with after Milah’s death was a broken heart and a thirst for vengeance. It’s not until he gets to Storybrooke, after so many years spent in stasis, that he discovers something else: he’s carrying her child. How does this new, tiny blessing change his path? (Canon-divergent from 2x12.) rated T | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | part 13 | AO3 | 3.5k a/n: Well I didn't MEAN for it to be over a year in between updates, but here we are. I've also been working on yet another story, but figured it was high time to update this one! Hope it was worth the wait!
The mood in the cemetery was appropriately somber, even if what everyone was mourning had yet to happen. Killian, for his part, was receiving some comfort from the constant wiggles in his belly—but if Pan did manage to cast the Dark Curse, just what kind of future lay ahead for his child?
“Gold, this curse,” Emma asked. “Is it going to work like the last one?” He could tell Emma was just as worried about the news as the rest of them, but true to form, was trying to take the lead and make a plan.
“The last one was created to service the Queen's wishes. This will be done per Pan's desire,” the Crocodile explained. “I would count on something hellish.” On that, Killian agreed with him.
“The curse was built to be unstoppable,” Regina added. “There's nothing that can be done.” If even the Evil Queen was losing her motivation to fight, they were all doomed.
Until Rumpelstiltskin told them that it was indeed possible to stop it—if they had the scroll the curse was written on—but that only Regina could do it, and there would be a price—because of bloody course there was.
But it was a chance, and they’d all be fools not to take it. Quickly, a plan was hatched; Killian was going to go to the convent with David, Neal, and Tink to retrieve the wand of the Black Fairy, which would then be used to switch Henry and Pan back to their respective bodies, thus giving Henry possession of the scroll. It was a solid scheme—as long as nothing interfered; he hadn’t lived this long by only expecting the optimal outcome.
Across the group, Emma gave him a tight-lipped nod that seemed to say “good luck”; he returned the gesture before running off, hopefully not into (too much) danger.
———————
Things were equally solemn in the convent—and the fairies didn’t even know about the curse yet. The Blue Fairy was laid out in a coffin at the altar, or whatever religious centerpiece it was, with other fairies gathered around in mourning.
Tink charged ahead. “Sorry to interrupt, but we need your help.”
“With what?” one of the fairies asked.
Neal quickly said, “The Black Fairy's wand is here. We need it.”
The fairy began to step back. “We can never…”
“Yeah, yeah. It's a terrible thing,” Tink interrupted. “But what's coming is worse. Where is it?”
Before the fairy could answer, a pounding noise sounded outside, somewhere above them. All eyes darted up to windows at the roofline, where something dark—and familiar—was flying around.
“What the hell was that?” David yelped.
“Pan's shadow,” Killian answered, knowingly. That—that was the danger he’d been worried about, especially once it became apparent that the Shadow was trying to get in.
“What does it want?” another fairy wondered.
But Killian knew. “The wand.” It wasn’t a stretch to believe the Shadow had overheard their conversation back in the cemetery—and was here to foil their plans.
One of the stained glass windows was partly open; the Shadow effortlessly slipped in. David shouted for everyone to run; the fairies all but disappeared, but the four of them stayed in the sanctuary, hiding behind the pews. (He knew nothing of this realm’s religions but some things apparently transcended worlds, including the setup of worship spaces. He’d never been much for organized religion, but if they escaped this unscathed, he’d throw up some prayers to the gods in thanks.)
“So all we have to do is light the candle, right? That's how you trapped it in Neverland?” David panted.
“Yeah,” Neal confirmed. “This time I say we get rid of it for good.”
Killian agreed. “I'll draw its ire.”
He began to move when Tink put her hand on his arm. “You sure you want to do this?” The others were looking at him concernedly as well.
His hand rested on his belly; yes, logically, he shouldn’t be throwing himself into the line of fire like so. But he also knew—based on past experience—that the odds of the Shadow being able to hurt him were minimal compared to the others, and there was no way he could sit idly by and do nothing to help. “If it's the only way to prevent this bloody curse from obliterating us all, then it's a risk I'm willing to take.”
Tink squeezed his arm and smiled. “You’ve come a long way from only risking your life for love or revenge.”
He blushed a bit. “This is still within those categories,” he replied, nodding towards his stomach—but they both knew it wasn’t just the babe.
The Shadow had been circling overhead, but was darting lower; it was now or never.
“Hey!” he shouted, slipping out from the benches into the aisle. Not his most original quip, but it worked—the Shadow’s focus was on him, and it dove.
Killian crouched and easily evaded it; hopefully, he could keep that up. “That the best you got?” he taunted; attacking its pride was a sure fire way to keep it close enough to capture.
However, it was indeed not its best; on its next swoop, it managed to knock Killian off his feet, sending him sliding across the floor. He at least managed to fall on his side and curl up, protecting the babe from impact.
Hands were on his shoulders almost immediately. “You alright?” David asked, brow furrowed in assessment, helping him back to the benches.
“I think so,” he breathed; the wind had been knocked out of him a bit but the baby seemed to me kicking away as consistently as ever.
In that time, the Shadow had flown back up to the eaves, far out of reach.
“Too bad I can't fly up there,” Neal joked—but then realized: “Tink.”
It took some encouragement, but they managed to convince her that she could do it—they all had faith in her; she just needed to have it in herself.
He watched with pride as she was able to activate her vial of pixie dust and float up. It took even less effort for her to light the flame in the coconut, easily trapping the Shadow. He felt no sympathy as the creature, if it could be called that, writhed as it was sucked into the flame.
He only felt relief at the small hiss of a scream when Tink tossed it in an open brazier back on the ground.
“Look who's still a fairy,” he teased, sauntering towards her, but his genuine grin probably belied the sarcasm.
“Look who's still a pirate,” she tossed back. “You all right?”
“Aye; we’re fine.”
“Good. I wish you had a bit more self-preservation, you know? If not just for your kid, then for Emma, too,” she added on a whisper.
Before he could comment either way, the apparently resurrected Blue Fairy interrupted them—not just to welcome Tink back into the folds of fairy-dom, but also to give them the Black Fairy’s wand. “Go—save us all,” she commanded, somewhat melodramatically, but the situation was that dire. Neal took the wand and they wasted no further time.
Back at the pawn shop, everyone else was waiting; the wand was all they needed. Emma looked tense, understandably; he hoped his nod was an encouraging one (and hoped they’d get time at some point here for more communication than glances and gestures).
Later, though; now, Gold was performing the spell, and then they had to find Henry.
After confirmation—so much as they could tell—that it worked, they all headed out into town to track down Henry, led by Granny and her keen sense of smell. But the lad ended up finding them first, sprinting out of the library, curse in hand.
It was hard not to get a little emotional at the reunion with Henry and his mothers (Killian’s own heightened hormones notwithstanding), but that quickly gave way to confusion when, upon being handed the curse scroll from the boy, Regina collapsed on the pavement accompanied by a flash of purple light.
She recovered, but when asked what happened, only cryptically said that she “saw what needed to be done.” He didn’t like the sound of that.
“Mom, are you going to be okay?” Henry asked, worried.
Regina placed her hand under Henry's chin. “The important thing is you will be.” That didn’t fully assuage Killian’s concern, though it was definitely important. His hand drifted to his waist, protecting his babe (and drawing comfort from them, too—this whole thing wasn’t done yet).
“No, he won’t actually.” They all turned at the unwelcome voice—Pan, somehow free, and suddenly holding the scroll in his hand.
“He has the—!” Killian started to say, but was frozen in place before he could finish his warning; even the babe within him had stopped moving, which was even more unnerving.
“Curse?” Pan finished, smirking. “That I do.”
He started to monologue, debating which of his captives he would murder first; honestly, it was a bit cliche, but Killian knew well what the demon child was capable of.
Pan had just rounded on Belle and Neal when Gold appeared behind him; took him long enough (though it wasn’t a stretch to think Pan had incapacitated him, given that Pan himself should have still been imprisoned).
Pan teased his son. "You're here to protect your loved ones, eh?”
“I'm not gonna let you touch either one of them.” If Killian weren’t frozen, he would have arched an eyebrow, impressed; it only took the Crocodile two centuries to learn how to stand up for his family, but better late than never.
Should have expected it would be in dramatic fashion, too. After some repartee, Gold’s shadow appeared—carrying the dagger. Which he used to kill both Pan…and himself.
Regardless of their broken history, this was not the end he expected for the Dark One. Perhaps in a normal situation, he wouldn’t feel the rush of emotion he did now; but as it was, he felt tears well in his eyes and a surge of oddly-placed pride.
That also meant they were free from Pan’s spell, with the demon’s demise; that brought the strongest sense of relief of all. All the decades of serving that arse were permanently done, thank the gods.
But seeing Belle collapse on the ground in tears brought any elation back to the ground; he slowly moved behind her and placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder, even though they also had a rocky past. To his surprise, she reached up and squeezed his hand, but he stepped aside when Neal came forward to pull her into an embrace. Over his would-be stepmother’s shoulder, Neal found Killian’s gaze; they didn’t even exchange a nod, but a look of understanding and sympathy was obvious.
Others gathered around the two of them to offer their condolences, including Emma, but Regina was drawn to the fallen scroll once more. And then all eyes were on her.
“My father did what he had to do. He saved us,” Neal said, voice thick. “Regina, don't let him die for nothing.” His plea seemed to fall on deaf ears, though. “Regina?”
“What?” she asked, looking up from the scroll and blinking.
“We're here for a reason, love. Pan,” Killian reminded her.
“He’s dead,” she said quickly.
“His curse remains,” he countered. “Can you stop it, or shall we all start preparing our souls? 'Cause mine is gonna take some time,” he added, hoping a moment of levity might help.
On cue, one of the dwarves came up screaming about the curse’s imminent arrival.
“We can still stop it, right?” David asked, ever hopeful; Regina confirmed it, but still seemed reluctant.
“W-what's the price?” Emma was clearly distraught; he wanted to hold her, assure her it would be fine, but now was not the time. “Gold said there is a price. What is our price?”
Regina turned to face the group. “It's not our price. It's mine. I have to say goodbye to the thing I love most.”
They all knew who that meant: Henry.
The lad in question moved closer to his mothers, confusion and worry on his face.
“I can never see him again,” Regina went on. “I have no choice.” It made sense, but gods was it cruel. Killian barely even knew the little life within him yet already couldn’t imagine being parted from them like so; but with a hold you’ve held, raised, loved? He couldn’t imagine.
“I have to undo what I started,” she added sadly.
“The curse that brought us to Storybrooke?” Snow realized, on a gasp.
“That created Storybrooke,” Regina emphasized. “It doesn't belong here, and neither do any of us.”
Just when he was starting to find a reason to stay; he cast a brief glance at Emma, but then focused on the pavement. He had a bad feeling in his gut where this was going.
“Breaking the curse destroys the town,” David said, breathlessly—and throwing half a dirty look at Killian; he deserved it though, given his hand in the town’s first near-destruction.
But what Regina said next was worse.
“It will wipe it out of existence as though it were never here. And everyone will go back to where they are from. Prevented from ever returning.”
That part—that would make this awfully difficult. But…when she said “from,” did she mean…?
“We'll go back to the Enchanted Forest?” Emma seemed to be putting the pieces together at the same time.
“All of us,” Regina nodded, “Except Henry. He will stay here because... he was born here.”
“Alone?” Emma’s voice cracked.
No—that…couldn’t be; it was too awful. Impending parenthood was absolutely making Killian a sap, but he knew a thing or two about being abandoned, and few things were more awful; Henry didn’t deserve that, especially after what he’d just been through—especially when both his parents knew what it was like too.
He could see remnants of the little lost girl Emma had once been starting to show on her face, and longed to clear them away somehow—assure her it’d be alright. He was too far away though, so he settled with reaching out to squeeze Neal’s shoulder, knowing he was likely having similar flashbacks.
“No,” Regina countered, thankfully. “You will take him. Because you're the Savior. And you were created to break the curse. And once again, you can escape it.”
Emma’s eyes weren’t the only ones starting to brim with tears, but hers were the ones he was focused on. “I-I don't want to. We'll both go back with everyone.”
“That's not an option,” Regina said, equally emotional. “I can't be with him. If I don't pay the price, none of this will work.”
Ominously, thunder sounded in the distance, indicating the curse’s proximity. They were running out of time. He loathed to say it, but Regina was right: Emma had to go.
Heartbreakingly, her mother agreed.
“I just found you,” Emma protested, every inch the lost girl.
“And now it's time for you to leave us again,” Snow told her, obviously working hard to hold it together. “For your best chance. For his.”
She continued to fight it—to hypothesize a way to win—but he could feel it in the wind: they had to act fast, and this was the only way to not leave Henry by himself. But if they didn’t move quickly, they’d all get wrapped up in whatever sick plan Pan enacted before his death.
Emma looked across the crowd and found his eyes. No doubt she saw sadness in them. But he swallowed and gave her what he hoped was a confident, encouraging nod. Selfishly, he wished she could go with all of them, but she’d never be able to live with herself if she had to leave Henry behind—nor would he expect her to.
She pursed her lips and gave a tiny nod in response. “Okay,” she finally said, albeit reluctantly.
Killian directed the group to the farthest town line—the spot that gave them the most time before the curse overtook them. All too soon, everyone was gathered around Emma’s yellow vehicle in a series of tearful goodbyes that were wreaking havoc on his heightened emotions.
Henry clung to Regina while Emma bade farewell to her parents and Neal, then turned to face him.
“That's quite a vessel you captain there, Swan,” he teased, trying to lighten the moment a bit for both their sakes. She smiled—something he vowed to sear into his memory. But then he couldn’t hold back anymore—he had to be sincere. “There's not a day that won't go by that I won't think of you,” he added, perhaps a bit dramatically but it was the honest truth.
“Good,” Emma said—then, to his shock, she quickly gripped his lapels and placed an insistent kiss on his lips.
He didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, knowing it would likely be the last.
It was all too brief, but she stayed in his space one more moment. “Take care of yourself, okay? And good luck.”
“You too,” he replied, voice suddenly thick with emotion—but who could blame him?
He stepped aside and pulled himself together as they made the final preparations to leave; he could see the sky darkening as the curse approached. He heard something about them losing their memories—or getting new ones from Regina—something like that, which was probably a blessing but sounded cruel in the moment. They wouldn't remember them—all the things that had happened in the last months, especially Emma finding her family. But it was probably for the best.
Snow was giving Emma one last embrace goodbye and placing a kiss on her forehead when he turned back around. He placed his hand, as he did so often, on his belly, praying to the gods that they would never be faced with such a prospect.
Then Emma and Henry were in her car and it was roaring to life, just as Regina enacted the counter curse.
As the storm clouds rolled over him, he watched Emma drive over the town line—into safety.
What lay ahead for both of them was unknown, but they at least had their children; what else did they need?
—--------------------------------------
One year later
Killian knew he was in the right spot—portals were generally accurate—but as he stood outside the door, he was nervous. A lot had changed in his world in the past year; he had to assume the same could be said here.
But he was on a mission. So he swallowed his nerves and knocked.
He could hear voices inside—they were definitely there; but there was no answer, so he knocked again, urgently.
Finally, he heard footsteps approach. The door swung open, and there she was: Emma, in all her glory, blonde hair hanging loose around her face. She looked good.
He was so relieved; he grinned and stepped forward. “Swan. At last—”
But she stopped him from moving any farther forward with a hand on his chest. Her brow furrowed and she cut him off. “Woah, do I know you?”
Oh, right—in his eagerness, he’d nearly forgotten about the spell that replaced their memories. Good to know it had held.
“Look, I need your help,” he charged on, though. “Something's happened. Something terrible. Your family is in trouble.”
“My family's right here,” she countered. “Who are you?”
“An old friend,” was the best he could come up with; he was starting to feel desperate. “Look, I know you can't remember me, but... I can make you.”
Much like their parting, but with the roles reversed, he did step into her space—and found her lips, thinking fervently of all the feelings he’d been holding onto for her over the past year.
He really should have expected the subsequent knee in his groin, though; thank goodness he wasn’t still feeling (too) tender down there.
“The hell are you doing?” she demanded, shoving him back to the opposite wall.
He groaned and tried to catch his breath. “A long-shot,” he admitted. “I had to try. I was… hoping you felt as I did.” Which sounded ridiculous as soon as he said it; how could she feel anything when she clearly didn’t remember him?
“What you'll feel is the handcuffs when I call the cops.” Well, that was in-character.
But he didn’t come here to fail. “Look, I know this seems crazy, but you have to listen to me. You have to remem—”
But the door slammed in his face.
Bloody hell; that hadn’t gone to plan. But he was a captain for a reason; he’d just have to rely on his backup.
He'd do whatever it took—he’d promised. So many people were relying on him, but more so on Emma. It wasn’t his intention to drag her back into that part of her life, but he’d seen her with her parents before they left—she deserved to be reunited with them.
And he wouldn’t be reunited with his own child until he did.
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