Bring Me To Life

[Deleted]

Milah could hardly remember what had happened between when she last saw Rumplestiltskin and now. She knew that there was peace.. no pain.. nothing. This was after she had her heart ripped out and crushed. Now, there were thoughts racing through her mind. She was feeling pain.. physical and emotional. She had a pounding headache, but surprisingly her chest didn't even ache. She stood on a street of a town that didn't look familiar.. nothing looked right. This was a concrete path. Not stone, not dirt.. concrete. She lifted her hands to her head, feeling the thoughts fluttering through her mind. She tried to center herself, so she concentrated on the one pure, good thing she knew.. Killian. She took in a deep breath, deciding that this was just going to have to become another adventure. She had to find her way out of..wherever she was..and get back to the Jolly Roger. 

She walked along the street. She could hear the clicking of her boots against the concrete since the rest of the town had been quiet. She wrapped her arms around herself and started to think outloud.. it was easier than keeping them to herself. "How did I get here? I was..." the thought occurred to her faster than she had hoped. "I was dead." Okay...so that was out of the way. Admitting that she was once dead, and she was now alive. Rumplestiltskin, her husband, had killed her. Crushed her heart in order to crush Killian's heart. She had to find him. Now was the next question.. Was she actually alive? Or was this heaven? hell? Somewhere in between perhaps? Too many questions..and answers wouldn't come fast enough. As she walked along the street, she eyed up little shops. It was a quaint little town, filled with things she had never seen. Lights that weren't lit with candles, machines sitting in front of houses, apparently used as some form of transportation by the look of the wheels on them. No horses...no carriages.. what kind of world was this?

And when she felt like there was no hope.. that she was going to be here, on her own, alone and terrified..she saw a shadow through the fog. Something..impossible. "Killian?" she spoke out loud once more, as she peered through the mist. "It.. can't be.."  

[Killian Jones]

It's Always Nice

TO MAKE AN IMPRESSION

Killian was making his way to the docks. It was a place he frequented, mainly because gazing upon the sea gave him unimaginable peace. It was his place of serenity, hearing the water sway, taking in the scent of it, the vastness that made it seem like it went on forever . . . ah yes. Killian was indeed a man of the sea. While he never would regret his decision to give up the Jolly Roger -- for he was incredibly happy with Emma now -- he did enjoy just watching the open water, having spent so many years of his life sailing upon it. The fog was thickening as drew nearer, creating a rather ominous atmosphere however Killian was far from afraid. This was Storybrooke after all; with all the curses, villains, and sinister ploys that befell this place . . . a little fog was nothing.

It was what he saw emerging form the fog that suddenly caused him to freeze in his tracks. His entire body numbed as his eyes gazed upon the impossible. And heard the impossible. A voice. An all too familiar voice. An, unmistakable voice. He froze, his mind racing with what he saw before him, and the reason she was so familiar. He knew exactly who it was, but . . . it couldn't be. Because there, in front of him . . . was Milah. He became numbed with pure shock. After her passing, there had been many drunk nights where he saw her, even conversed with her at times. She had been there when his mind could not process her death, and she had been there in his dreams for many nights after Rumple killed her.

But . . . seeing her now, before him . . . no. He was done. Done with the cruel tricks that constantly befell them. The Dark One had taken his heart for so long and just when everything was going back to normal . . . someone else was playing an all too cruel joke on him. And it was the last straw. "Who are you?" He demanded, his voice angered at the thought that someone would use his memory of Milah to manipulate him. "Who sent you?" He further demanded, his voice still filled with anger. He still could not move, still unable to fathom that someone was sick enough to create this illusion to torment him. She looked so real; sounded so real. But Killian was no fool. She wasn't real. She couldn't be.

template by isabella

[Deleted]

One would think that she was in Heaven, seeing Killian standing there, looking as handsome as the day she had died..but it had to be some sort of Hell. Did he not know her? Was this to be her fate? She narrowed her eyes, staring at Killian.. This had to be a trick of the imagination. "I'll ask the questions here, demon," She hissed. "Who are -you-? Because you're most certainly not the man I know.. he'd not have to ask who I am." Not a devil existed that would be able to trick Milah. She knew it couldn't be Killian..she just knew it. He wouldn't be in this place.. he would be on the sea. And she certainly didn't see the outline of the beautiful Jolly Roger.. So no. This had to be a trick. She was wise to it, though. 

She placed her hand on her hip, realizing she had no sword.  This would have to be a battle of wits, then. She mentally took note of everything around her that could be used as a weapon if needed. Of course, this trickster might have been something other than a demon, but she would be prepared no matter what. "I'll tell you who sent me here, though.. it was my coward of a husband Rumplestiltskin. I suppose he's no longer my husband anymore. It's a shame I'm dead, otherwise i'd thank him for making himself a widower." Part of her wondered if this was the Dark One's doing..if this was -his- trick. If it was, she'd make it known that she was out to get him, dead or not. She apparently hadn't realized yet that her heart was indeed intact, and it was beating. 

[Killian Jones]

It's Always Nice

TO MAKE AN IMPRESSION

She -- it -- made their own demands; calling him a demon. Killian remained grounded in place, trying to make sense of all this. This was not the usual illusion of her he saw when his mind often played tricks. She did not accuse him of being a demon, or appear to be confused herself. She would embrace him, and though she had never been real . . . the thought of seeing her had been enough to numb Killian's mind until he awoke, or returned to sobriety.

There was also something very . . . Milah- like in the way she addressed him. The way she stood, with confidence and lacking any fear. The way she spoke to him, a strength and confidence in her voice. It was all the traits -- and many more -- that had made him fall in love with her, all those years ago. But that was just it; it had been many, many years ago and so there was no possible way for her to be standing here before him. And he needed to desperately remind himself of that. He listened to her explain that it was her husband. Even the way she spoke his name was . . . all too familiar. No vision of Milah he had ever had in the past spoke like this. So real. So bitter. So . . . life like.

"I am no fool," he said defiantly. He took a few steps toward her, grabbing her arm and pulling her close to him as he raised his hook to her face, weaponizing his substitute for a hand that the Crocodile had cut from him shortly after her death. "Why did he send you?" Hook further demanded. "Were his recent actions not enough?!" To have held his heart for so long then nearly killed him -- a near death experience that Killian was unfortunately all too familiar with.

"You will tell me all you know and then I will be rid of you once and for all." Because he could not take this any more. His heart -- once again beating in his chest -- could no longer take the pain of her memory. Ever since he had fallen in love with Emma, some of that pain had eased, though a part of him would forever love Milah. This was not the time to relive that agony. It had taken him decades . . . hell, over a century to recover from her death. Reverting to that state . . . well, he would rather not revisit that time in his life. But seeing her before him, made it damn near impossible not to.

template by isabella

[Deleted]

Okay. This had to be some sort of devious trick. Who would be behind such a thing? He was talking about her as though -she- were the illusion. What the hell was seriously going on here? He grabbed her by the arm, and held his hook to her face. This made no sense.. was it a trick? He felt so real..he looked, and..smelled absolutely real...but it couldn't be. "How dare you touch me, demon!" She jerked her arm away and moved backwards. "You! You may not be a fool but you're a liar!" She was starting to become a little more emotional than she had hoped to be. It was too real, and she knew it had to be fake. This must have been purgatory. Was she really this horrible to endure such fate for the rest of eternity? 

"How dare you pretend to be Killian Jones? You don't even have a ship, let alone the Jolly Roger!" she cried out in a mixture of panic, denial, and confusion. "And you most certainly would know who I was if you were him! You'd know that I am Milah.. The love of Killian Jones.. The mother of Baelfire.. the former wife of Rumplestiltskin, The Dark One, until he crushed  my heart and I died in the arms of Killian Jones himeself!" Despite her will power, she started to feel tears of anger run down her cheeks. She was filled with such pain..despair. "So don't you dare lie to me! Just tell me that I've fallen and that I'm now in the deepest darkest pits of the afterlife.." she started to sob, lifting her hands to her face. "Just please.. do not take his image.. I can't possibly bear it.." with that, she fell to her knees, as though she were pleading for the demon to show his real face. 

[Killian Jones]

It's Always Nice

TO MAKE AN IMPRESSION

Killian felt the anger start to ebb away as he just watched her. A strange helplessness in him as he witnessed her reaction, listening to her words. They were filled with such undeniable pain. A strong agony that could surely not be feigned. He had spent so much time with Milah, he knew her. He had memorized every detail of her face, the tone in which she spoke to him, the ache he felt when he saw tears fall from her eyes, the joy he felt when he watched her smile . . . he knew her. And the woman in front of him . . . no. He was daring to hope. He was daring to believe. And it was far too dangerous. For every other time he had allowed his mind to believe that she was actually in front of him, it had been a cruel trick and he'd been pulled back into the harsh reality of his love. One that lacked the first woman he had ever loved.

But this vision was not like the others. How could he imagine her to be in such pain? Here she was before him, pleading -- begging -- him to bring the torture to an end. Something that he was silently pleading for as well. What kind of vision was this? What sort of manipulation was he falling under? Because yes; he was falling under the spell. Something in his gut, in the core of his heart however . . . was starting to believe. Because surely, this could not be faked. Hearing her, seeing her, knowing her . . . she was real. She had to be. And yet, she couldn't be. He watched her fall to her knees in front of him, absentmindedly releasing his hold on her for his state of shock continued. How he hated to see her cry, and her recalling the state and manner of her death, made him close his eyes.

He remembered every detail of it. He had been helplessly watching as The Dark One crushed her heart right in front of her, and when he had been freed from the rope . . . he held her. Feeling the life leave her body and eyes as his heart in that moment, was also crushed. Only to be revived decades later by another. But at the moment, he was focused on Milah. On the seemingly impossible presence she held here before him. He had mourned for her, devoting his life to avenging her yet somehow wishing he could swiftly join her in the after life. And now, she was here. With him. On her knees before him. He often trusted his instincts and instinct was dangerously allowing him to believe.

He too fell to his knees in front of her, staring at her and unsure what uncontrolled emotions were behind his eyes. "Milah," he whispered softly, both acknowledging and questioning her presence. How could this be? How was this possible? It still could indeed be a cruel trick, but he was falling for her. And he knew that it could be according to the plan of the evil being who had sent her to him like this . . . or if his gut was right, it was really her. Which only begged for more questions. He raised his hand to her cheek, the softness of her skin a feeling that he had been deprived of for so long; one that he had longed for and missed in her absence. The warmth of it, making her all the more real to him. He knew how she felt, and right now . . . she felt like Milah. His Milah.

template by isabella

[Deleted]

There was no way of knowing that this was really a demon..or if it was actually her beloved Killian.. but she almost hoped that it was an illusion. How else would she explain coming back from the dead? Not to mention, how would she apologize for dying and leaving him alone in the world? The moment that she felt his hand touching her cheek, she felt herself filling with something she had forgotten. She lifted her gaze, and looked in to his eyes when he said her name. It was then, that she realized that this wasn't a trick, or a mirage...it was real. "Killian," she whispered as though she had just gotten punched in the stomach. "Is it really you?" 

She lifted both of her hands, and cupped the sides of his face as she continued to gaze in to his eyes. She wanted to hold him, to kiss him, but for right now, time was standing still. It was as though this were a dream. The smell of salt water mixed with the smell of Killian's cologne were the only thing keeping her anchored, and not thinking that this wasn't real. "How is this possible? I died.. in your arms.." She spoke with a small whisper. "I remember feeling nothing, and then suddenly feeling..everything, all over again. And I was here, and I have no idea where I am.. Killian, what's going on?" she was nearly breathless once more. She lifted a hand and clasped it over her mouth. "I'm frightened.. and I hate feeling so powerless."

[Killian Jones]

It's Always Nice

TO MAKE AN IMPRESSION

She asked if it was really him and he fought the urge to return the question, asking if it was really her. How was this possible? It seemed that neither of them knew how it had happened. And both of them were struggling, afraid to accept this out of the fear of disappointment that it would not be real. But the more she spoke, the more he was being convinced that she was in fact, really here. Feeling her hands on his cheek caused him to close his eyes again, taking in the sensation her touch provided, the all too familiar beautiful scent from her, the way her alluring voice spoke now -- even if they were words painful to remember.

For she had indeed died in his arms, and hearing her feeling nothing before everything . . . what she had been through was enough to make him so desperately wish -- just as he always did -- that Milah had never found him and Rumple in the alleyway that night. That the Dark One had just believed Killian when he told him that Milah was dead, and proceeded to rip out his heart and crush it. For then, Milah would have been spared. And all of this, would have been avoided. "I don't know," he answered quietly, opening his eyes to meet her gaze; to look deep in her beautiful lightly hued eyes that had been a feature of hers that had quite immediately attracted him. And now, they looked so pained and confused . . . but at the same time, so full of life. "I watched you die, Milah," he began to say. He had spoken such words to his visions before, but the vision had always assured him that she was always with him.

That he hadn't really lost her. This time, it felt different. It felt as if he was actually speaking to her, rather than a mere figment of his imagination. "I set you free in the water. I mourned for you." But here she was. "I don't understand how this is possible," he admitted in a slightly breathless voice. He felt just as powerless as she did, unable to answer any questions she had about what was going on for he knew not. And all the other questions, regarding where they were and who else was here . . . well, they would need to be answered. But all in due time. Right now, he was not past the part of fully accepting she was alive. How could he, after having lost her for so many years.

template by isabella

[Deleted]

The time for denial was over... now she had to embrace the fact that she had to face the fact that she had died in his arms, and that he had already mourned her loss. "I know..." she of course didn't know that he had set her out to sea, but she knew that he had mourned her. She could feel it. How long he had done so though, was still a question. "But does it matter?" Her eyes started to lighten, and she moved her thumbs to brush against his cheeks. "I'm here now.. and so are you.. Somehow. We can be together, Killian.. Just like we always wanted." She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly, deciding she never wanted to let go. 

Through the tears, she smiled. Things were going to be better again. Who cared where the Jolly Roger was? The two of them didn't need it. They could make a new life.. a fresh start. But then, she realized something. Something that shook her to her very core. "Wait.." she whispered before leaning back and looking at his face. "Killian.. how long has it been?" To her, it was a short time. There was no such thing as real time in death. It hadn't occurred to her that he could have been over her for years... that he could have moved on. Not until now, at least. "Please.. I have to know.."

[Killian Jones]

It's Always Nice

TO MAKE AN IMPRESSION

Killian remained still as he felt her thumb against his skin; a gentle caress that he had sorely missed . . . one that he selfishly found comfort in right now. She spoke of how it didn't matter, that they could be together now as they always wanted to be. She wrapped her arms around him, embracing him in a hug as he slowly returned the favor, putting his arms around her, ensuring his hook did not harm it. It was then that her words began to register in his mind . . . that all this was slowly registering. Perhaps he hadn't fully processed her return, but the fact that she was now speaking together, brought forth the reality of life . . . it brought to mind Emma.

He remained silent, unsure what to say in response. He just stared ahead of him, unable to cease from feeling that comfort in being so close to her, in holding her which was a feeling he had never forgotten -- which was why it had been so painful to lose her. She pulled him out of his thoughts as she suddenly brought forth a question. He met her gaze, listening to her question the passage of time. To her, it may have hardly been anything . . . which was why he didn't even know where to begin. He looked at her, unable to answer, but she pleaded with him, telling him she had to know and . . . well, he agreed. She did have to know. At the very least she deserved that.

"It's been decades, Milah," he answered quietly. "Centuries," he added in a low voice. There was obviously long and complicated story there, but he had to tell her the truth. He looked intently at her, realizing he had not yet lowered his arms from having them around her . . . his mind, his body, and most of all his heart would not allow him to.

template by isabella

[Deleted]

Centuries. The word had never struck more fear in to Milah's heart when she had heard it before. She just stared at him for what felt like an eternity, clutching his shoulders and breathing heavily, as though something had knocked the wind out of her and she was trying to find her breath. "Centuries," she spoke softly, as though if she said it, the word's meaning would somehow change. How was it possible? He hadn't aged a day! Her eyes were wide, as though she were seeing a ghost.. or maybe he was the one who was seeing the ghost. "What? H-how?" She closed her eyes, and shook her head. "This is absolutely impossible. But.. if it's true," she opened her eyes, looking in to his once more. "I am so... So sorry, Killian. I left you..you've mourned me, got over my death, and here I am. This must be torture for you..." 

It was then, that she noticed something cool touching her back. She turned her head slightly and glanced at his hand. She blinked rapidly, pulled his arm away from her, and clutched his hook with her jaw slightly dropped. "Killian! What happened to your hand?!" She cried out, lifting a hand to her mouth. "Oh! I should have known that if I left you alone to your own devices that you'd chop your damn hand off!" she scoffed in a fit of well..anger, terror, any, and every emotion, really. She was in a bit of a panic. 

[Killian Jones]

It's Always Nice

TO MAKE AN IMPRESSION

Killian remained silent as the revelation of the passage of time slowly sunk in for Milah. He knew it had to b ea shock . . . which was expressed in her gaze and in her following words, repeating the term before voicing the impossibility of it. "There is much that happened Milah. Much we need to discuss." Because as he had said, it had been centuries. She then apologized and he looked at her; hearing her say that she was sorry for what happened made him immediately counter her words. "You have nothing to apologize for," he said, raising his hand to her cheek . . . knowing he shouldn't, but finding it impossible not to.

"If you are real, if you truly are here with me, Milah, then it can't be torture." Torture was seeing illusions of her concocted by his desperate mind, and then having her vanish just as quickly as she had appeared. He knew somewhere in his mind that her presence complicated things with Emma, but how could he prefer Milah be dead? He couldn't. He wouldn't wish or hope for such a thing! "Being with you no where near constitutes as torture," he added. If there was anyone to blame for her death, it was the Crocodile.

And he had gotten what he deserved . . . even if Killian had been unsuccessful in killing him. She then realized his missing hand, questioning what had happened and assuming that he had chopped it off himself in a fit of uncontrolled emotions over losing her. "I didn't do this," he told her in a low voice. He dropped his hand from her cheek and moved his hook forward, his gaze downcast as he held it between them, pausing for a few moments before looking at her once more.

"It was him." He who did not need to be named. "Shorty after . . . " Her death, though he was unable to voice the words right now. "He believed his hand to be holding the magic bean and parted it from my body to claim it," he continued. When most asked about his hand, he often just said it was due to a crocodile. But Milah deserved the whole story, for she had known the situation better than anyone -- it had after all, been her very own husband who had ruined them. "A wasted attempt, for he did not gain it." Hook had tricked him and kept the bean from him . . . using it to get to Neverland instead.

template by isabella