Killian has known that Emma Swan is different ever since he watched as Cora tried, and failed, to take her heart.

She's the saviour. She's strong, and brave, and everything good in the world.

He has imagined losing her in a thousand ways, has lost her in several ways already, but the loss was always his, only his. For her, there would be new chances, new choices, freedom, love, happiness, with people who do not carry darkness with them like he does.

He never thought that she might suffer from the loss, too. She's a hero, and heroes always win.

But she pulls away from him, and holds the dagger aloft – the Dark One's dagger, its wicked waves a familiar sight. He spent a lifetime looking for it, obsessed with getting his hands on it and driving it through Rumplestiltskin's heart.

Now she has it, and he can only watch as magic flashes around her, into the blade and back again. There is a bright light, a gust of wind almost powerful to knock him off his feet—

And nothing.

Killian blinks furiously, trying to see past the coloured shapes in his vision and the pain stinging at the corners of his eyes and whatever it is that keeps blurring everything together. But it's no use; she's gone.

Emma Swan, the Saviour, the heroes' hero, the love of his long life, is gone.

There's a glint on the ground where she stood, and Killian takes a step towards it, blood pounding in his ears. The world closes around him. It can't be.

But it is.

The Dark One's dagger is just a blade now, no name engraved on the metal, but it still looks as wicked, as hateful as ever. For years, it haunted his dreams, his doom and salvation in one, the reason for Milah's death and his sole means for revenge. Pursuing it cost him almost everything he had left.

He hates the sight of it. It's a reminder of the man he once was, the ruthless pirate bent on vengeance. It's a reminder of the puppet he was while Rumplestiltskin used it to control the hat. It's evil.

It's all he has left of the woman he loves.

Something snaps, and Killian falls to his knees. It can't end like this. He gave up the dagger, turned away from vengeance, did not want it anymore.

His mouth tastes like ash as he reaches for the blade with his good hand. His fingers close around the hilt just like they did a thousand times in his dreams, but there is no triumph now, no hope. It's no longer a step towards his happy ending; he has just lost that, and this is his reminder.

But his fingers tighten around it anyway. It's the only thing she left behind. And even if his heart shatters into a million pieces every time he looks at it, he will look at it, because in the end, it was what brought him to her.

In the end, it's all he has left.