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Aftermath

Killian's Pov

"Paddles," a nurse yells, yanking down the thin hospital sheet from my wife's chest.

I can only stand there and watch in complete and utter horror. I hardly push back when nurses push me out of the room. Another takes the crying child from my arms.

"No please. That's my daughter," I beg, trying to grab the baby back.

"Sir we will take care of her," she says

I reluctantly give up my fight and look back to my wife. Pale and unconscious on the bed, looking frail.

"Clear," the nurse yells.

Everyone's hand's fly from the hospital bed, as the nurse presses two defibrillators to Emma's chest. The paddles send a shock into Emma's body and her body convulses shortly.

No. This can't be happening. My Emma's alive and well. We have our daughter and life is going to be okay.

Emma's not dead on that table. My love is not dead.

Love.

True love.

True love's kiss.

A sleeping curse. How could I have not thought about that?

I race back into the room. Nurses try to shove me back out the door, but this time I fight back.

"Sir, we need to take care of your wife," one of them say.

"Again," the nurse with the paddles says, shocking my Swan again.

"No. She. needs me," I yell over the commotion, trying to get past the swarm of nurses.

"Mary call this man's family and security, we need to get him out of her," the nurse pushing me back calls to another nurse.

"Please. Let me see her. She needs true love kiss. It's a sleeping curse," I say fighting, trying to get to Emma.

"Mr. Jones..." the nurse says to me.

"Wait, Christine, he may be onto something," Whale interrupts her.

The nurses stop pushing me back.

"If this does work, it will be our last shot. If not, she will be gone. It has already been two and a half minutes since flatline. Even if we do manage to start her heart, the brain damage will be irreversible.True love's kiss is our last hope at this point," Whale nods to me.

I suck in a breath, taking in the news.

"Hold on to hope," I tell myself, "Don't give up yet."

My hand starts to shake at the idea of losing Emma and that this is actually happening. That she may not come back from this. It kills me from the inside out. My organs twisting and looping between each other, not in the places they are supposed to be. My lungs in my throat and my heart on the floor.

Walking over to Emma, I regain air, sitting down next to her.

"Can I have a moment?" I ask.

"Of course," Whale says, and hurries the nurses and other doctors out of the room.

I take Emma's hand in mine. Her hand is cold and a shade lighter than usual. Only trails of warmth run through her veins. The slow cooling of her body, yet another sigh that she is dead.

I entwine our fingers together. Her fingers falling limp, as mine wrap across her knuckles. I sigh when the door closes behind them.

"Emma, if you can hear me. Don't leave me. Don't let go. Your daughter needs you. Your family needs you," I say, tears brimming in my eyes, "I need you."

I have never cried, but the idea that Emma is gone... I can't stand it. She can't be gone. We are survivors. We have survived through it all. I want to believe that we can make it through this.

I collapse to the ground. The chair legs somehow slipping out from under me. I kneel beside the hospital bed, gripping onto Emma's hand for dear life, somewhat hoping for there to be a slight pulse, twitch of her finger, anything.

"Please come back to me. Please if anyone is out there listening, please help me. My wife is my everything. She is my life and my light Please take me. Take me not her. I'm not ready," I cry, the tears that I tried so hard to fight back fall down my cheeks, like streams in the crevices of my face, "I'm not ready to let her go. Please I beg of you. Save her."

I don't even know why I'm yelling to the sky. I don't' believe in God, but for Emma I'd believe in anything. She made me believe in myself, believe in the good. And now because of her for a tiny second, I believe in God.

Not the God that punishes you for your sins, but the type of God that is merciful. The one who could work miracles and save my Emma.

Because I can't let her die. I won't let her die. I promised her she would be okay. I need her alive. I need her by my side. Our daughter needs her.

I regain my balance, standing back up. I look at her fragile figure. Her stomach is still swollen from our child. She looks dead on that sheet. She is dead on that sheet, but my brain still can't comprehend what is real and what isn't quite reaching me.

The sheets are half blown off the bed and patches from the defibulators still stick to her chest. Her hospital gown is half open from the desperate attempt to rescue her, and it hardly covers her breasts. Her skin is milk white and has lost its color, a clear sign of her death.

But I can't give up just yet. She wouldn't give up on me yet.

She never gave up on me. Not once. So why should I fight less for her.

I shouldn't. I am going to give my everything to save her.

Even if it's facing my worst fear.

I sit at the edge of the rough bed and slowly peel off the yellow patches off her chest, buttoning the hospital gown back up, to save what's left of her decency.

"Oh. Emma. Please let this work," I brush her hair behind her ear.

Her temple was slick with sweat and her hair greasy, but I could care less. I just want her back. I want to see her smile at my daughter again. I want her to laugh. I want to hold her in my arms.

I want her back.

"I have hope Emma," I whisper into the quiet room, "I love you so bloody much, Emma."

I lean in to kiss her, pouring every ounce of love I could ever possibly have for her into it. I delicately connect her lips with mine. I cradle her neck, holding her body like a piece of glass, not wanting to break what's left of my love.

I feel nothing.

I give up on being gentle, pressing my lips against hers. Praying it was enough, I gently pull away, letting her cold lips brush by mine.

I sit up, laying her slowly back onto the pillow.

I wait, one moment.

And then another.

Each moment my hope fading one step further into oblivion.

Nothing.

I stare at her face. The way each one of her features falls perfectly in line with the next. Even without her roses red hue to her cheeks, I imagine her smiling.

I plead with her lifeless form to come back to me.

Anything. I silently ask her. Anything at all.

Her hand falls from her chest.

My eyes brighten.

But the hope only lasts for a moment.

The cushions sink next to me.

I glance over to the other end of the bed. The movement only came from a nurse setting down a clipboard on the bed and the cushions from Regina sitting down next to me.

The nurse writes down the time of death on a board.

2:31 a.m.

"You know when I lost Robin. I thought all was going to be lost. I had fallen into darkness after I had lost love once before. But once thing that pulled me out of it was Henry. Henry was my reason I stayed good. Not because the darkness was no longer tempting, but because I realized even though I lost someone important to me, I still who I cared for," Regina said quietly, looking away from me.

I sighed, as I sat down beside her.

"I'm not saying this won't be painful or that you can ever let go of Emma, but I hope you know you have people who know what you are going through and can help you with grief. The whole town will mourn the death of Emma. She changed so many lives. I can't imagine what you're going through. I don't pretend to, but I'm here Killian. We all are," she places her hand on my back.

I nod, trying to stay strong.

"How's Henry" my voice cracks.

"Mourning the loss of a mother."

"And Snow and David?"

"Mourning the loss of a daughter," she says

"And you?"

"Mourning the loss of a friend, while staying strong for another," she says.

"I want to see them," I says.

"Okay," Regina replies, standing up, "I'll go get them."

"No," I stop her, "I don't think Henry should see Emma like this."

"He deserves to see what's happened? I know he's my son too. I wish I could shade him from life's horrors too," Regina says, exiting the room.


Unknown's Pov

My whole body burns as life returns to it. Slowly, life filters through my head and all the way to my toes. The tips of my fingers tingle and the enclosed space around me suddenly feels all too small, due to the heat.

I suck in a long deep breath. It is the most extraordinary feeling in the world, after having been absent for so long. It's cold and fills my lungs with a musty oak smell.

My long fingers twitch. I curl and twist my fingers, waking up my creaking bones.

I open my violet eyes, they are dry at the pupils, but sticky at the edge. I batter my long eyelashes, to return the flow of moisture to my eyes.

I am surrounded in darkness, no light trails through the edges of the box I am in.

A long missed warmth fills my veins.

My magic.

I flick my fingers and the lid of the box snaps open to the side. Light pours into the space around me, a warm hue. Wood looking walls are my first sight. I hear the crackling of a fire.

I sit up. All my muscles aching for not being able to move in this body for so long.

A figure stands over a cauldron, large and muscular. The cauldron boils and flairs purple and green.

"It's is done then?" I call, my voice slightly scratchy from the prolonged absence of it.

"My queen?" The man, shocked, looks over to me, "It worked."

"Of course it worked you imbecile. I did most of the work. As long as you did your part, it's a spell, it would work and it did," I say, "Now help me out of this casket. We have something to return to the dark one."


Emma's Pov

Everything went black, as I turned away from my husband and daughter to relax from the exhaustion.

But only for a moment.

A wave of heat rushes down my body. It clouds my vision and my hearing becomes fuzzy. Everything I hear sounds faded.

"Shhhh," I hear Killian and a crying child.

My head snaps to their direction.

"Emma," he yells, looking at me.

"Killian," I sit up, "I'm right here. What's wrong?"

"Emma," he screams again, still trying to steady the baby in his arms.

"Killian. What's wrong? I'm right in front of you," I reach out to him, standing up, trying to cup his cheek, but my hand falls straight through his muscles, like a ghost.

"What the hell?" I glance down at my hand that has fallen to my side in shock.

"Somebody help," my husband says, looking in horror past me.

Nurses and doctors race into the room, snapping me out of the shock. They all run to something behind me.

I slowly turn around. There lying on the hospital bed, is me. A pale, weak version of me.

Am I dead? How can I be dead?

I was holding my child moments ago.

What happened?

I don't feel dead.

But I guess no one knows what death feels like until they experience it.

This isn't what I imagined heaven to be like.  



What do we think? Theories? Complaints? Emotions? All of the above?

What do you think has happened to Emma? Any last guesses on who this new villain is before it is revealed next chapter? And last question, who do you think, besides Killian, is going to be most hurt by the news of Emma's death?

This is the second to last chapter of this book you guys!!! That's insane. This is my first, almost completed book I have ever written. I never though this day would come, and I'm not ready for it to be over, but I am so excited to put the words the end at the end of this book. 

It will be an amazing accomplishment and I wouldn't have been able to do it without all you wonderful readers. So thank you so much. 

Now if you guys want me to update the last chapter sooner, spam this book with comments and my profile and everything. I tend to update and write faster if I know I have a reason to. And I just love reading all your guys' comments.

So thank you all so much again! Literally you guys are the reason this book has made it this far, so truly and sincerely thank you. It takes a good amount of amazingness to make it this far.

You guys are all so extraordinary!!!!!

Have a stupendous day!!!!

-pinacolada07

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