There was room for another in Emma's Bug—just one more.

Henry timidly asked Neal. Since he hadn't been included in the first curse, he could escape this one. But Neal, seeing Emma's reluctant face, sadly refused his son.

Never could she trust him again, nor would she ever exactly like his presence in her son's life. Neal knew it and decided to return to the Enchanted Forest, maybe look for his father with Belle.

"There is one more that could go with you," Regina mused.

Hook.

The three of them piled into the Bug as the curse crawled closer, consuming all in its path. Hook replaced his hook with a fake hand. Emma stared back at her parents, Henry at his father and Regina, but Hook watched her face. When the first tear escaped, he brushed it away so carefully.

Regina raised her hands and blasted her magic into Pan's curse.

They crossed the town line.

Emma smiled at Killian. Killian grinned at her and leaned over to brush her lips with his. "How much longer?" Henry groaned. "If you guys keep doing that I'll get out and walk."

"Three hours, lad," Killian said. "Unless your mother gets us lost once more."

"We weren't lost," Emma protested.

Henry scoffed. "We totally were," he replied with a grin in his voice.

A year later, Emma and Killian were out in the heart of New York City, enjoying a night without a hyperactive ten-year-old interrupting their dinner. It was a celebration of their four-year anniversary. The longest relationship Emma had ever had or dreamed she could have.

There were days when she liked Killian Jones. -There were days when she barely tolerated him. Then there were those days when she loved him, loved him so much.

They strolled home in the moonlight. They lived in an apartment Emma had found cheap and had planned to live in with just Henry. Then Killian's apartment in Boston had burned and he had had no place to live, and since they had been dating off and on for more than three years, Emma invited him to live with her and her son.

Not an easy step, of course, but Killian was a wonderful housemate and boyfriend. He and Henry adored each other and was the closest thing her kid had to a father. Neal had abandoned her in jail and didn't know that Henry existed.

Killian had lost his left hand in an accident that killed his brother Liam and his girlfriend Milah. The disaster had led to a fair amount of alcohol, women, and a strangely moving tattoo on his right forearm. And the same brokenness that Emma herself had.

Kindred spirits indeed.

They wandered home in silence, Emma's hand tucked into his arm and the ring he had given her two weeks previously glittering on her finger.

They had been enjoying a lazy day in the apartment, Henry out playing with Avery or some other friend, when he abruptly got down on one knee and, without another word, proposed. It was a bit of a shock to Emma, who stood staring down at him openmouthed for a moment before insulting him, saying yes in a rush, letting him put the ring on her finger, and grabbing him for a kiss that lasted for quite some time.

In short, yeah, she was going to marry him. Emma hadn't even had to think about it—staying with him forever seemed so right, which was both terrifying and comforting to the little lost girl.

"Dad!"

"Yes, lad?"

"I'm gonna be late for school!"

Killian groaned and Emma smiled. It was two months after their dinner out, and the soon-to-be Swan-Jones family was enjoying a cuddly morning on the couch. Killian had made his not-really famous scrambled eggs—but they should have been: he always put cheese and sausage into them and Emma sometimes teased him and said that the scrambled eggs were why she was marrying him—and they ate breakfast as a little family, as usual. Henry had run off to get ready for school and Killian had called after him that he, the as-of-three-months-weeks-ago fiancé-of-his-mother and therefore dad, would take him to school.

Killian got up slowly and reluctantly, kissed Emma on the cheek, and ushered Henry out the door. Emma had straightened up the apartment and had started on a load of Henry and Killian's dirty clothes from their muddy soccer game the day before when the doorbell rang.

"Emma Swan," the old bearded man at the door said without preamble. "Do you remember anything about Storybrooke?"

Emma leaned against the doorframe and stared him down. He had eyes that saw through her. They were eyes that knew exactly who she was and what she was capable of. She didn't like it. Not at all. "What's Storybrooke?" she asked mildly.

"Your home. Storybrooke has returned, and your family needs you."

"My family's right here," she replied, getting a little disturbed. "Who are you?"

"I am a guardian, a watcher, a recorder. You need to return to Storybrooke. After you catch your skip today, find me at the entrance to the zoo. I am not going to hurt you, Emma, or Killian Jones and your Henry." His voice became a whisper. "Trust me."

Without another word, the old man turned and walked down the hallway. Emma watched him go, just a bit angry and somewhat perturbed. He was clearly insane, since she was an orphan, had nobody in the world but Killian and Henry, and had never heard of this Storybrooke.

Emma slammed the door and dressed for finding her skip. She didn't want to go see the old man, or talk to him, or figure out what the hell he meant by Storybrooke and her family, or even think about him again. The most annoying thing about the whole situation was that she was going to go talk to him.

This perp was stupid, ran at first chance straight into an alley. She handcuffed him, took him to jail, and drove to the zoo, cursing herself and the old man the whole way. The old man was sitting on a bench next to the gate.

"Good afternoon, Emma." He glanced at her purse. "I am not insane; therefore the cuffs and Taser are unnecessary. I will not attack you or anything you clearly anticipate. Instead, I wish to give you this."

He reached into his pocket and drew out a small blue bottle. "This is memory potion. It will restore the memories that have been buried."

Normally, Emma would cuff the madman and call the police. However, she found herself listening. The man's voice was trustworthy and she could knock him down with one blow if she needed to. They both knew she had the power in the situation. "Buried memories?" she asked.

"You know that there's something not right about this life. You know, deep down, that you met Killian in very different circumstances. You know that you have another family to protect. You know that the life you remember, the life you have always known, is a lie. This potion will reveal those hidden years of your life."

The most disturbing thing was that he was right. Many nights, she dreamed of a different life. Henry knocked on her door and brought her to a strange little town, she fought with the mayor, she broke a curse, she and another woman fell through a portal to a new land, where she met a man dressed in medieval clothing, tied to a tree. She dreamed of climbing a beanstalk with Killian. She dreamed of his hook, of a town where he came back for her, and of a place that could only be Neverland. She knew that he dreamed of this life too, a life where he lost his brother in Neverland, where he was a pirate, trying to kill a man in retaliation for Milah's death, and where he met Emma on a beanstalk and she changed his life. They had talked and laughed about their dreams, not daring to think about the realness of them. The fact that they felt more like memories than dreams.

She stared at the man's peaceful yet tormented eyes, eyes that saw into her past and mourned it, eyes that knew everything she had been thinking of—and took the little bottle. He nodded solemnly. And then she popped open the bottle and drank the mouthful of vinegar-like liquid within

—Henry at her door—

—Mary Margaret smiling—

—Regina glaring—

—David's hugs—

—Neal falling through the portal—

—Hook—Killian Jones—holding a dagger to his neck—sitting on his hospital bed—kissing him in Neverland—

"Take Hook with you, Emma. The three of you, make your own happy ending." Snow's voice, shaking despite her firm expression, rushed through her head.

David shook Hook's hand: good luck and a warning. "Take care of them, Hook."

"I swear on my life," he whispered, squeezing David's hand in return.

David nodded, releasing Hook and pushing him to Emma's side.

She stood and stared down at the man, who now smiled wanly. "Who are you?"

"For now, what I told you earlier must suffice. I am a watcher and a recorder. Return to Storybrooke, Emma. I have no more potion, but I have faith that Hook and Henry shall follow you to the ends of the earth. You need them, saviour, as much as they need you; never forget that. Return to Storybrooke with Killian and your son, and save your family."

She nodded, tried not to run to her car, and drove back to her apartment, probably breaking several traffic laws in her haste. Once she arrived at home, she paced the floor, watching the clock until Killian got home from work. When he stepped into the apartment, she ran into his ever-welcoming arms. Emma wasn't going to think about them right then, if their relationship was valid, if she loved him—she knew she did, and that scared her so very much—but she could always count on him. Her Killian. Her Captain Hook.

"What is it, love?" he asked, picking up on her tension and pulling her into him as tightly as she was clutching him.

"We have to leave," she whispered into his chest, trying to comfort herself with the scent of him and the strength she could always count on. "I found my family, and they're in Storybrooke, Maine."