back to the start (1/1)
Post-Firebird / Killian told her they had more time than they were ever meant to. Emma has trouble letting go. A time travel curse brought them together the first time around, she’s gambling that it’ll be able to do it again.
She brings rum to his grave, the flask he left behind on his ship.
It’s stupid, really. She should have brought flowers, but there already seem to be enough strewn on the plot. Emma has her parents to thank for that, she’s sure. It’s not as if he can receive gifts in the Underworld via grave (and he’s moved on by now, he promised her that much) anyway. But she needs to give him something, even if he’ll never know she did.
Emma needs to do something, settle the uselessness that’s tethering around her heart and constricting the breathing in her lungs. The flask doesn’t alleviate that, but she knew that was a long shot anyway.
“I love you,” Emma breathes out, talking to someone who can’t hear her. She bends her head down, scuffing her boots on the grass and pulling the umbrella she’s holding down with her. She lets out a bitter laugh. “You’re right, I can only say it when one of us is dead or dying, huh?”
She turns around to face her mother, clad in a peacoat and looking concerned. The funeral was hours ago, everyone left but Emma. They seemed to understand she needed more time.
She always needed more time.