Fixed it.

here is our happy ending.

His eyes look dead and his words ring cold, the normal affection that laces his tone missing in place of this new cardboard way he's speaking to her. There is a flash of something - fear, maybe? - but then it's gone and he's pressing his lips to hers and it's wrong, wrong, wrong. She wants to grab his stupid jacket, shake him until he just tells her, but -

"See you around, love."

His fingers are tight around her wrist and she feels them long after the door slams shut behind him.

-/-

"He's been playing us this whole time."

A lead weight settles in her stomach as everything starts to piece itself together because she knows now why he's been so distant, why his eyes look so dull and why she hasn't been able to find him for more than thirty seconds these past couple days. His hand, his deal - all magic has a price.

She swears under her breath and turns on her heel, rubbing her fingers over her wrist as she picks up her pace. Gold's shop is only two blocks away through the woods, and nothing motivates her quite like blind fury.

-/-

Belle is sitting crumpled on the floor when she finds her, silent tears running down her cheeks with the dagger in her lap. She wishes she possessed some sort of tact or intuition for this sort of thing, but the anxiety is clawing at her lungs, making it harder to breathe with every passing moment.

"Belle, it's Gold, he - "

She nods and takes a gasping breath, lifting the dagger up slightly in explanation. But whatever it explains, Emma has no idea, because something is wrong and Killian is different and she can't breathe.

"I know."

Her heart beats faster, her fingers running back and forth and back and forth over the sleeve of her jacket.

(If she closes her eyes, she can still feel his shaking grip. If she closes her eyes, she can still see the way his shoulders curled inward, jaw clenching tight.)

"Belle, there isn't much time."

The woman stands, tilting her chin up in quiet defiance. The tears still shine bright in her eyes but her grip on the dagger is strong, and her steps are sure as she grabs her coat from behind the counter.

"Let's go."

-/-

He's on his knees when they finally make it to the clocktower, his pained shout ringing out and pressing tight against her ribcage as Belle moves forward quickly, dagger held in plain view and her words strong. But she can't hear anything, can't feel anything, because Killian is on his hands and knees and his heart is in someone else's hand and he promised.

"Emma, you have to go, he has the - "

Of course. Of course in his dying breath he would try and get her to run.

Moron.

"Shut. Up."

There is a flash of white light, magic exploding from her fingertips in a rush of warmth - and then his heart is in her hands and Belle and Rumple are gone.

She drums her fingers on the bright red organ (and of course with this too, of course it's red and shining because he is good and honorable and he won't fucking believe it for himself, the freaking idiot) and eyes him speculatively, the anxiety and fear quickly being replaced with rage.

"You," she points at him with his own heart and he flinches. She lessens her grip slightly. "Are in so much trouble."

-/-

She pushes it back in with far too much force (he deserves it, the stubborn bastard) and immediately his face changes, like a candle's been lit behind his eyes, his hook curling around her back and bringing her into him as his lips find hers and, god -

(How did she not know before? How did she now know when this is how he kisses?)

Her back hits the wall and her hand slides just slightly beneath his jacket, lingering over the place where his heart is hammering against his chest, fingers curling in the stupid vest he insists on wearing. His tongue slides along her bottom lip and she sighs out his name, chasing his lips when he pulls back, delighting in the way his nose bumps against hers.

"I told you, Swan," his fingers curl in her hair and she missed this, too - this easy sort of comfort and intimacy and warmth and she hates herself a bit because it took her far too long to notice all the little things. "I'm a survivor."

A smile curls her lips despite her best intentions and she watches as his lips do the same, her thumb tracing the indent his happiness makes, lightly wandering to the scar on the apple of his cheek. She closes her eyes and sighs out, pulling him a bit closer and feeling the flip in her stomach when his leg slips between hers.

"I missed you." She whispers and his palm glides between shirts and skin, his rings heavy and cold against her spine.

"Aye, my love." His teeth nip at her bottom lip and she takes a step forward, keeping her chest pressed to his as she maneuvers him to the room she knows is his. "I missed you as well."

She laughs into his lips when he curses low and foul, the doorknob hitting him in the base of his spine.

(She soothes it with gentle fingers, and promises to kiss it better later.)

-/-

She wakes to gentle snores pressed in the valley of her breasts, thick black hair ticking her chin, bed sheets twisted tight around her hips. She stretches and groans until he rolls and curls on his side, grumbling incoherently under his breath about bloody crack of dawn andsodding grilled cheese is cold.

She smiles and wraps herself around his back, pressing her palm flat against his chest until she can count the even beat of his heart, letting it lull her into a peaceful slumber.

(He wakes her later with shining eyes and clever fingers, her back arching and hips pressing and yeah - they aren't leaving this room for atleast six weeks.)