( it was very much like her. did that make it right? oh, the selfish bastard in him might like to argue. Emma was the savior, the victim of Regina's curse just as much as everyone else, and yet she'd been so determined to protect the evil queen she'd been willing to take on the darkness for her. in the end it's more than just Regina Mills, that darkness would have ripped through Storybrooke using Regina as a vessel if they hadn't tethered it back to the dagger, it just doesn't make any of it any easier. he'd have much rather taken on that curse than watch Emma take it on in front of his eyes. she had a family, a place, and all he had was her.
it's true, even back then in that moment, she'd been bidding him with the task of saving her. the fact that it wasn't supposed to be forever doesn't manage to ease the sting of losing someone he loved all over again. he'll fight to save her, he'll go from this world to the next, he'll devote another three centuries to hunting the newest dark one if it means he can save her from that horrible fate. he's just aching from the loss all the same, even with her here and solid next to him, curved closer like just that could be a comfort.
is he sure? he'd like to follow her logic, he would. it sounds unreal, and he knows that, but he knows it happened. he watched it all fall apart in front of him, and he'd pushed through Robin of Locksley to be the first to pick up the dagger with her name burned into the wicked metal. the last fragment of her he had left, and no real indication of how to move forward and find her. she leans back to catch his eye and insist they'll find a way, that they'll figure it out and find a way back to each other. )
I'll never stop fighting for you. ( and he means that; but there's a broken misery to the promise, from being the one doomed to be left behind when the world needed her. he can't hate her for that, it just doesn't make it ache any less. he swallows back the unhappiness painted over every inch of him, because it won't help either of them right now. they're together, he won't let himself lose sight of that. maybe that future can be avoided; he'll do his damnedest to make sure Emma never has to face that possibility. ) I promise.
( his touch presses a little closer over her heartbeat, before he pulls back to pull something out of his coat. if she needs proof that it's not a hallucination, it's on the dagger he tugs from an inner pocket. wicked lines, grim and dark metal, and her name boldly written across the flat of the blade. ) It wasn't a hallucination, Emma. I wish it was. ( he holds the blade out for her to take. he thinks that she's the best keeper of it; Emma has always needed the ability to make her own choices, he won't take that from her now. )
no subject
it's true, even back then in that moment, she'd been bidding him with the task of saving her. the fact that it wasn't supposed to be forever doesn't manage to ease the sting of losing someone he loved all over again. he'll fight to save her, he'll go from this world to the next, he'll devote another three centuries to hunting the newest dark one if it means he can save her from that horrible fate. he's just aching from the loss all the same, even with her here and solid next to him, curved closer like just that could be a comfort.
is he sure? he'd like to follow her logic, he would. it sounds unreal, and he knows that, but he knows it happened. he watched it all fall apart in front of him, and he'd pushed through Robin of Locksley to be the first to pick up the dagger with her name burned into the wicked metal. the last fragment of her he had left, and no real indication of how to move forward and find her. she leans back to catch his eye and insist they'll find a way, that they'll figure it out and find a way back to each other. )
I'll never stop fighting for you. ( and he means that; but there's a broken misery to the promise, from being the one doomed to be left behind when the world needed her. he can't hate her for that, it just doesn't make it ache any less. he swallows back the unhappiness painted over every inch of him, because it won't help either of them right now. they're together, he won't let himself lose sight of that. maybe that future can be avoided; he'll do his damnedest to make sure Emma never has to face that possibility. ) I promise.
( his touch presses a little closer over her heartbeat, before he pulls back to pull something out of his coat. if she needs proof that it's not a hallucination, it's on the dagger he tugs from an inner pocket. wicked lines, grim and dark metal, and her name boldly written across the flat of the blade. ) It wasn't a hallucination, Emma. I wish it was. ( he holds the blade out for her to take. he thinks that she's the best keeper of it; Emma has always needed the ability to make her own choices, he won't take that from her now. )