A KIND OF MAGIC ↝ Killian Jones

⇒ EPILOGUE

WHEN WILHELMINA BARTON when first arrived in Storybrooke, wearing a Star Wars shirt and listening to Queen, turning heads with her Corvette, she had been hopeful and eager to get to know its visitors and create a new life in the small town. But she never expected things to unfold the way the did. She never expected to find herself catching feelings for Captain Hook himself, or befriending some legendary heroes and villains. But that had all happened, and despite all the struggles and dangers she had faced, all the heartache that had come knocking back again, she was ultimately happy. She didn't regret her decisions.

Except perhaps leaving Killian when he, oh, so excitedly suggested leaving Storybrooke together and finding a new place to explore together. Much like Wilma always did, he had carried hope in that moment, only for her to crush every last bit of it, and she failed to forget the look of utter disappointment and betrayal in his sad eyes as he walked away. Those bright eyes, along with his rough accent, his soft lips, his tempting scent, or the feeling of leather or his stubble under Wilma's fingertips — they never quite left her mind. The thought of him just twirled around, taking up most of the space in her mind, whilst her heart was busy weighing down with immense guilt, and the affection that she had failed to show.

But despite the regret tugging on her heartstrings, Wilma didn't go to The Jolly Roger and apologize to Killian, especially when he had probably sailed away by now. Instead, she headed to the mines to assist her friends in whatever they were busy trying to do, but she was just a bit too late. She didn't come face to face with happy smiles and loving embraces in the celebration of a successful survival, but David, Snow and Henry holding onto each other with fear and despair all over their faces. And in the center stood Regina, but she wasn't alone — Emma was with her, and together, they were trying to contain the diamond with their magic.

Once David spotted Wilma, he sighed with relief and pulled the woman close to him, shutting her in a tight hold as they all followed from aside how Regina and Emma were working together. "The plan didn't work out", he whispered, his voice barely audible, but it reached Wilma well enough. "This is more of a last-minute attempt to save everyone", David continued, and as tears continued to roll from Wilma's eyes, she let out a shaky breath and rested her head against the prince's chest.

Silently crying, Wilma couldn't help but wonder, if this was what her father had meant when he begged her not to go, when he insisted that she would regret going back to Storybrooke. But still, she didn't regret doing so.

If this was going to be the death of her, at least she was dying with friends. At least she could be proud of the way she had lived, of the choices she had made. She had no regrets — merely a wish that she could have parted ways with Killian differently, but she felt at home in David's arms, holding Henry's hand, leaning towards Mary Margaret. Perhaps her mother was dead, along with her brother, and maybe her father was a criminal and more or less of a lost cause, and maybe her best friend was dead too. But as Wilma stood there, surrounded by people she had grown to love, she understood that Storybrooke wasn't the home she had longed to have. It was the people she had found in it — the people she was lucky enough to die with.

However, their doom didn't come just yet. Eventually, Regina and Emma did the impossible, they succeeded, and the trigger deactivated as a blast of blue energy burst through the air and knocked down everyone with it.

It hurt like hell, the way Wilma hit her head against the hard wall, but it was a reminder of being alive. And she realized that, as she groaned and slowly rose from atop David, where she landed during the outburst, that she was, indeed, alive. They were all alive. All thanks to Regina and Emma, who had managed to contain the trigger and stop the destruction of Storybrooke — they were, well, heroes. The realization of how much her body ached made Wilma, oddly enough, smile and laugh as she got up and hugged David out of pure joy and relief. Frankly, a part of her had given up hope, submitted to the thought of dying — hell, she had even made peace with the fact that her story was reaching the ending, which, even in these conditions, would have been happy. Just because she had a family around her. But damn it, she was beyond glad that it wasn't the end, not yet.