Chapter Text
Killian stumbled up the steps to their house.
His and Emma's house.
Their home.
Killian paused, catching his balance on the door frame, swaying with the rum that circulated through his body more than blood.
"Dead men tell no tales."
He slid the blade into the man's ribs.
He watched the life leave his eyes, watched him slump against the cart.
Watched him die.
And he, himself, smiled.
Killian felt sick.
His eyes burned, his body thrummed with the effect of the alcohol and the anxiety of having to tell her—needing to tell her.
"I actually want to tell Emma the truth."
"Well," the cricket had said, proudly, "maybe it's because you are the man that Emma wants to marry."
But what if he isn't?
What if…
He lost his breath, his hand slipping on the door frame as his heart lurched.
What if she leaves him?
He caught his breath, his heart pounding.
He couldn't lose her.
Gods, he's tried so hard.
He's changed.
He's brought himself back, dragged himself back, tore himself away from the darkness.
Twice.
And now, despite all he's done to fix it, his past and the sins he'd thought he left there have come rearing back with a bloody vengeance.
Would he ever truly escape it?
Or would he always be a prisoner of his own mistakes?
"Emma… I'm a villain."
"If you're afraid of losing your happy ending, that means you found it. What is it?"
"Don't you know, Emma? It's you."
He couldn't lose her.
He couldn't lose her.
He couldn't stand to see her look at him with the hatred he saw stare back at him in the mirror.
Killian shut his eyes, the fog of the alcohol only making the thoughts and the fear worse.
He should have known that there was a limit on his happiness with Emma.
Should've known that he never deserved her after all.
Should've known that his past would come back to kill any and all hope of his future.
And the worst part…
He deserved it.
His chest physically hurt.
He deserved to be left alone.
He deserved to see her walk away from him, to see the love for him disappear from her eyes.
True Love be damned.
He deserved to lose his happy ending.
But it wasn't only Emma he was going to lose.
David.
Killian couldn't breathe.
Just last night, less than twenty-four hours ago, David had cried into his chest.
David had embraced him like Liam once had.
And David broke under the suffering of living without his father, the father who hadn't left him like he'd thought.
Suffering that Killian had caused.
David clung onto Killian like his rock, like his brother, like family.
He'd turned to Killian over the loss of his father. Killian; his father's murderer.
Killian's eyes shut, losing feeling in his legs.
David has grown to be the greatest friend that Killian has ever had—to someone that Killian trusted as much as he'd loved and trusted Liam—
And gods, he's hurt him.
He ripped David's family apart and he's hurt him.
Killian's eyes burned.
"Well, you shouldn't have goaded him into it!"
He destroyed both his brothers' lives.
Hell—
All three of them.
Killian's breath hitched, his eyes opening, nothing but torture shining through.
The urge to run was blinding.
To save Emma from him, because she deserved someone better.
But a small voice somewhere in the back of his mind whispered to him to be a man.
To be strong in a lifetime of being weak.
To do it for Emma, because he will not leave her.
He will never leave her.
He will let her leave him—a choke in his throat, a burn in his eyes—but he will never leave her.
His eyes opened, his frame trembling with fear and the clash of where his weakness met his strength, both vying terribly for control.
But he took a shuddering breath.
And he forced himself to move, opening the door, desperately wishing that it won't be the last time he walks into their home.
Killian shut the door, hand shaking.
He heard footsteps from upstairs—
Emma.
A chill shot down his spine, stopping his heart.
"There you are," said Emma, coming down the stairs. She was smiling. She was happy.
And she kissed him immediately, something soft and sweet and happy.
He shut his eyes, trying to memorize the feel of her lips.
The feel of her.
But she pulled back far too soon, and Killian opened his eyes, begging it won't be the last kiss they ever share.
"Oh, wow. Captain Morgan," said Emma, licking her lips with a teasing smile. "I thought we were switching to water."
But Killian didn't smile—couldn't smile—not in lieu of what he was going to do.
He clung onto the strength within him that was fading more and more the longer he looked at her.
"I'm afraid it wouldn't give me the courage that I need," he whispered hollowly, forcing the words out before he could stop them.
Before he could be the coward he's always truly been.
He watched her eyes shift with confusion, and fear rose sharply through him.
Emma.
Hell, he loved her so much.
Please don't let her leave me.
"Courage… for what?" asked Emma unevenly, sensing the tension surrounding him like a vapor.
He felt paralyzed, the words trying to come out, his fear clinging onto them with all his might.
He could feel the ring in his pocket.
He was nearly going to marry her.
He'd just gotten David's blessing.
His blessing.
The man who had hated him, bloody hated him when they'd met.
And who now was his closest friend.
"You're never going to get her."
"Of course, you have my blessing."
Killian had been so close.
So close.
The desire to lie, to keep it to himself, was agony.
But he couldn't handle it.
The secret was tearing him apart, he could hardly live with himself.
He needed her, he needed her to lean on and was bloody terrified that speaking the words would tear her away from him.
Because he knew for certain that if she did, if she looked at him the way he looked at himself…
He couldn't bloody handle it.
"Killian…?"
Killian looked up, seeing Emma watching him with a concerned expression. Something scared in that expression. "What is it?" she asked slowly.
Killian took a breath.
Braced himself.
And bloody prayed she'd still be here after the words left him.
"I need to tell you something," he managed unevenly, the words hoarse, like they'd been through a war and barely made it out alive. "But I'm… I'm not sure how you're going to react."
Killian suddenly wished for more rum.
But no amount of rum could erase this.
Emma's expression only became more concerned. And…
Fearful.
A familiar kind of fearful.
Age-old crumbled walls attempted to rise in her eyes. "Killian, you're scaring me," she whispered. "Y-You're not… not… breaking up with me, are you?"
Her words were hollow and quick and breathless.
And his eyes snapped to hers, quickly saying, "No! Of—of course not, never—" His eyes shut even as he heard her little exhale of relief. "But… love, I wish I could have you promise that to me."
He felt her hand take his, and his eyes opened, utterly tortured.
He felt sick.
Emma's expression was even more concerned now, but not for herself.
For him.
"Killian, what's wrong?" she whispered gently. A little smile— "I promise I'm not going anywhere. You can tell me anything."
But she doesn't know.
He bloody killed her grandfather in cold blood, and he can't stand to tell her, and can't stand to not tell her.
So he shut his eyes, dredged up the words from the sharp claws of his fear, and spoke before he lost the strength to be the man she deserved.
"I killed David's father."
Silence.
He couldn't breathe.
His chest burned.
"What?"
Emma's voice was small, hollow and… confused.
Forcing himself to repeat it, to get it out, Killian said, "Emma, I k-killed David's father. I did it. It was me. The monster your father is looking for… is me." His voice lost all strength, a hot tear burning down his cheek. He went on before she could speak— "I didn't realize until August gave me a photograph of him, and it… it came back to me, and…" His eyes shut, pain ripping through him worse than any agony he's ever suffered. "I found his father tied to a Royal Guard cart as a hostage," he went on, forcing himself to. "I wanted their gold, I k-killed the guards—" His eyes were shut, every voicing of the word kill, another stab to his chest. "His father begged me for his life, promised to keep quiet on what he saw me do—because he—he wanted… he wanted to return to his family—" Another choke in his voice, another tear down his cheek, contempt for himself trailing through him like poison. "It wasn't even as if… as if I didn't believe him," he breathed, "I didn't need to k-kill him, I just… I didn't care—" A hitched breath, his chest burned. He felt sick. "I watched him die at my own blade, the same one that I—that I've used to spar with your father—" Another tear burned, tracking a molten line of regret down his skin, and he was shaking, he was shaking so hard— "E-Emma, I'm so sorry, I'm so bloody sorry, I murdered David's father, your grandfather, I've hurt so many people, I've—I've done so many horrible things and I'm—I'm—I'm a bloody monst—"
But he was suddenly pulled into an embrace.
His words cut off, his eyes flying open as Emma pulled him tightly to her chest, wrapping her arms around him.
In shock, he stared at her, voice hitching, "E-Emma—"
"I love you."
Killian stopped breathing.
His tears froze on his face.
"What?" he breathed.
"I love you," came Emma's voice, shaky but firm, and she pulled back just to see his face, tears on her own cheeks, but her arms only grew tighter around him. "I love you, Killian. No matter who you used to be or what you did."
Another tear burned down Killian's cheek. "But—Emma, I—"
"I know," she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder again. "I know. But I meant what I said. You can tell me anything. I'm not going anywhere."
The clash of relief and utter confusion at her response just had more tears burning down his face. "Why don't you hate me?" he choked out, voice weak and hollow as shattered glass.
"Because the man who did that," she whispered, sure and strong, "was never you." She pulled back a little, his arms reluctant to let her, but he did, and she touched his face, reading every torture in his eyes. "I know you. The man you are right here… this is you." A broken smile. "That's who I love." she said, only holding him tighter. "No matter what Hook did."
He stared at her in shock, unable to process her words.
He'd expected contempt.
He'd expected to see her heart break.
He'd expected her to throw him out, to never speak to him again.
He expected her to hate him as much as he hated himself.
Another tear burned down his cheek. "I don't… Emma… David, I-I—" Another sob escaped him, hell, he was breaking, and Emma was pulling him into her arms even tighter.
"It's okay," she whispered over his shoulder. "We'll figure it out. And we'll get through it. It's okay." She hugged him tighter. "You have me. I'm not going anywhere, Killian. We'll get through this together. I love you, Killian."
And he cried, there in her arms, under the weight of everything Hook had done, everything he had done. Cried for the lives he'd taken and the lives he'd destroyed, and for his own life that had been broken enough to drive him to such darkness.
And he cried from the relief that Emma was still here. That she wasn't leaving, and that he didn't have to break alone.
Emma held him, never letting him go, whispering reassurances, whispering love. Promising him over and over that she will never leave.
He would never understand what he'd done to deserve her—what he'd done to deserve her forgiveness, her unwavering love. And he only hoped he could find a way to make this right for David, and that he wouldn't lose his best friend.
But in lieu of one of the darkest days of his life, having to tell one of his darkest secrets, Emma was a light.
She was here with him, and he didn't have to go through this alone.