Once Upon A Happy Beginning

Chapter Twenty-Five: Elizabeth

Killian

"Killian, please. You need to." Snow was telling me. "Please, you need to let them work." 

I clutched my wife's frail body; her blonde curls cascading round her neck, gorgeous green eyes glossed over. Blue and her army of fairies were trying to get around me to check all sorts of things on Emma. Doc was there muttering away to the other dwarves telling them about something or other that they needed to do or find; I'm not sure I quite understand.

"Look, sir," Blue turned, ever a smile in her voice. "I need some space to work on your wife."

"I'm not... I can't leave her."

Tears pricked at my foggy haze of sight. She's my wife. My Emma. My Swan. If she dies, I couldn't begin to think about forgiving myself. What had happened? How? How had we gotten here? If I got home, how could I face Dave and Snow, Henry, Regina, Robin? How could I tell them that my wife was dead – dying! – and I had to sit back?

"Killian... Please... At least get a shower... mate."

"No. I won't, she's Emma. I can't leave her." I broke through the King's pleas.

"What if Regina catches word, huh?" I ask. "Who's going to protect Emma from the woman who needs her dead? Or the Dark One? What if he pays us a visit?"

"The Dark One is locked up, we told you that. He can't escape. As for the Evil Queen," David tells me. "Then we'll stop her. She's my daughter, Killian. I'll kill myself before anyone touches her."

"As would I."

"Then let me try first. You need a break."

"I can't..." I tug her closer to me. "You have to understand. And my baby... My sweet little baby... What if?"

"We'll tell you immediately, Killian." Snow reassured me.

~~~~~~

Reluctantly I had gone to bathe off the dirt of the forest floor, in the deep bathtub that was just off the room that Emma was laying in. I'd never thought too much of the luxury of regal bathrooms – not of the white gold taps and floral scented soaps. We'd often discussed returning here, home. I knew that Emma would be living in this very palace if we had and I with her. Together. Married. Bloody training to be King. Is this the bathroom that I would have found myself in? My thoughts drifted off to the future. 

A golden haired mother sat perched on a stool with plush pink cushions and golden rims. Her arms submerged in the bathtub, a little golden girl with her mother's green eyes playing with her younger brother in the water. Splashing his dark head whilst his eye's in his mother's colour gave his father's twinkle of merriment. A gentleman, dressed in royal leather attire, a newly polished hook adorning his left wrist stood behind his wife, bending down. Kissing her cheek. Whispering sultry things in her ear as she scolded him that the children were there. They don't understand. He'd tell her, as he mindlessly braided the hair just to the side of her ear quite flawlessly for one hand. 

Then my mind wandered to more inappropriate thoughts to have when my in-laws were a room down, only a gigantic closet separating them from me. Thoughts of the same man and his wife relaxing in a swarm of frothy bubbles. Her against his legs as he ran his fingers along her shoulder blades, massaging the tension of the day out. Wandering further, helping her relax.

When the warmth had decimated significantly, I clambered out and redressed myself hurriedly anxious to get back to my wife. As I reattached my metallic limb a beautiful sound reached my ears. 

The first angelic cry of a baby.

I ran to the room, bandaging a small hand towel around the prick of the metal so that I couldn't risk damaging my darling child. I burst through, and rushed to where I saw Blue swaddling her in a silk blanket. 

"Would you like to hold her?"

Her. My daughter. My beautiful, gorgeous, pretty, exquisite, delicate daughter.

I let out a strangled: "Yes," as I reached forward to claim her as my own. She opened her newborn blue-grey eyes and I felt myself in my serene world of peace. "Emma," I went towards my wife. "Oh, darling, open your eyes for me. This is our daughter, honey."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Sorry? Blue?"

"We couldn't save your wife."

No. They couldn't save my wife?

"You're lying!" I roared in a gentle enough tone to convey my furious anger but to not disturb my child. "You're– She's Emma! We're survivors!"

"I'm sorry, Killian." 

I shook my head desperately. No. No. "Mommy's still with us, isn't she sweetheart?" I asked my daughter, knowing that she couldn't disappoint me. 

There had to be something.

Anything!

I bent over to kiss my wife's lips delicately. True Love's Kiss. I waited, my lips lingering on hers but they never returned my action. 

"Emma?" I sobbed quietly. "Swan?"

Nothing. 

Nothing at all.

It was nothing.

~~~~~~

I finally let go over her dead body as a serving-maid lay a golden cloth over her. I cradled my daughter, shaking cries ricocheting through the air. My wife was gone. Dead. After less than a year of marriage and I'd never get her back.

~~~~~~

It wasn't my intention to let go of my daughter next but Snow, holding a shaking hand to her protruding belly, and another on my shoulder told me that she'd need to be cleaned up every. now and then. Newborn bladders weren't that controllable.

"What's her name?" My mother-in-law asked. 

"Elizabeth. Elizabeth Emma Swan-Jones."