Author's Note: Starts after season 6. AU future fic. Emma and Killian are happily married with a 5 year old daughter when Henry brings a teenager with a connection to the Swan-Jones family back from the Enchanted Forest. Includes most of the characters from the show. Most of seasons one – six happened with a few minor differences. Incorporates elements from season 7, but diverges from S7 cannon.

Chapter 1

Emma ignored the noises coming from downstairs, squeezing her eyes shut and snuggling into Killian's side. Wait, if Killian was in bed next to her, their five year old was the one downstairs making all that noise. Her eyes flew open. What the heck was their kid doing now?

Emma threw back the covers and pulled her jeans on. She managed to slip out of the room without waking her husband.

She found her daughter in the kitchen, standing precariously on her tiptoes on the edge of a barstool in front of the kitchen sink. The kid was trying to reach something in the cabinet above the sink…probably a bowl for the sugary cereal Emma bought her despite Killian's protests.

Emma wasted no time scooping the kid up before she could fall off the stool. The little girl still smelled like soap and watermelon shampoo from her bath the night before.

Hope shrieked in surprise and twisted around in Emma's arms to loop her own arms around Emma's neck. "Mommy!"

"Kid! What are we doing?"

"I need a bowl for cereal. Don't tell Daddy or he'll make me eat fish," Hope said seriously. She wrinkled her little nose and made a face, looking completely and totally disgusted.

Emma tried not to smile. The last time Killian saw their kid eating Lucky Charms for breakfast, he tried – and failed – to convince their daughter that a pirate's breakfast of mackerel fish was better.

Emma heard an exaggerated gasp from behind her. Apparently she had woken her husband when she got up. "What's this? My two favorite lasses keeping secrets from me?" Killian demanded, pretending to be shocked.

Hope giggled. "Not secrets, Daddy. Secret. Just one," she said, holding up one finger.

"Well, then, I suppose I'll just have to tickle you until you tell me your secret," Killian told the little girl.

Hope wriggled to get down from her mother's arms. Emma set her down gently on the kitchen floor and watched as the little girl raced across the hardwood floor, yelling over her shoulder at her dad. "You hafta catch me first!"

Their daughter made a mad dash for the stairs. All of her favorite hiding spots were upstairs. Killian intercepted the five year old at the foot of the stairs and started tickling her side over her red-and-white striped pajama top.

Hope squealed and practically collapsed on the first step of the stairs in a fit of laughter. Despite the kid begging Killian to stop tickling her in between giggles, her blue eyes were bright and sparkling and her laughter was filled with childish delight. As far as Emma was concerned, it was the best sound in the world.

The kid loved playing with Killian, and Emma loved watching her husband and their daughter together. Hope was definitely daddy's little girl.

Killian tickled the bottom of the girl's bare feet, eliciting the loudest squeals yet. "Da-dee! Please," she gasped, still laughing hard.

Killian paused, pretending to think about it. "Since you said please," he told their daughter after a moment, finally stopping.

Killian scooped Hope up and swung her around in the air before settling her against his chest and giving her a loud, smacking kiss on her forehead.

Hope gave Emma a sly look and then whispered something in Killian's ear. He looked over at Emma, too, and grinned wickedly.

Emma's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Nothing," Hope lied unconvincingly.

"Right," Emma said sarcastically. She shifted her gaze to her husband. He set their daughter down and walked over to Emma casually…too casually. He was up to something all right.

Hope didn't know how to act casual…she was five. She scampered over to the kitchen island, pulled herself up on a barstool like a little monkey, and watched her parents intently…she definitely thought something exciting was about to happen.

Killian pulled Emma to him, resting his good hand on her hip as he brushed his lips over hers in a brief good morning kiss.

Emma had been standing rigidly, expecting…well, something, but she allowed herself to relax a little, kissing her husband back. She felt him pull away after a brief moment, though his hand was still resting casually on her hip. And then his hand crept up a little.

Emma's eyes widened. Their five year old was right there. What was he doing? He never did more than kiss her with their kid in the room. He wouldn't – oh. He wasn't seriously going to tickle her, was he? She looked from their daughter, who was still watching them almost anxiously, to Killian, who had a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Killian," Emma said in a low, warning voice.

Killian ignored her. His fingers trailed a path from her side all the way across her ribcage. In spite of herself, Emma let out a sharp laugh and squirmed, her body tensing automatically under the light, teasing touch.

Emma swatted her husband's hand away, giving him a look that almost dared him to try it again.

"Sorry, love. The lass had a point. She wasn't the only one keeping a secret."

Hope merely giggled.

Emma shot their kid a playful glare. "If that's how you want to play it, I might not share my Lucky Charms. Maybe Daddy will share his pirate's breakfast."

"Ew! Gross!"

Killian let out a long-suffering sigh at the five year old's exclamation. "I'm the only one in this house that eats a good, healthy breakfast. I'll make my loves pancakes," he announced, starting to pull the ingredients out of the pantry. "That will be better than cereal, at least."

"Can I help?" Hope asked. She loved pancakes, and Killian knew it. "Can we have choco-chip pancakes? Please? Pretty please with cherries on top?"

The five year old gave her father puppy dog eyes that reminded Emma of Henry. The girl's eyes were blue, not hazel, but both kids had that look down. It wasn't quite as effective for Henry now that he was in his twenties, but Emma still had a hard time saying no to him, especially since she didn't see him every day anymore. When she did see her oldest, Emma basically did whatever he wanted.

Emma missed Henry so much. It would have been easier for her if he was away at college and she saw him whenever he wasn't in school, but he wasn't in school…he was in the freaking Enchanted Forest. Portals back to Storybrooke didn't happen every Christmas or summer.

Henry had a rapidly dwindling supply of magic beans to go back and forth. Every time he came home, Emma hoped he would stay, but he never did. He'd always had an adventurous spirit, and he liked how full of magic and adventure the Enchanted Forest was.

Emma didn't see what was so great about the ravaged fairy tale land with ogres and other dangerous creatures, but her oldest kid wasn't a kid anymore and she had to let him go find his happy ending, even if she missed him like crazy and never stopped worrying about him.

It helped that they had Hope. Before the birth of their daughter, there was a part of Emma that wanted so badly to go to the Enchanted Forest after her son. She knew she couldn't do that though. Henry wanted to do this alone, and she had to believe he would use the message in a bottle Killian gave him if he needed them for anything…anything at all.

But now…now Emma and Killian were just focused on giving their daughter the childhood they had always wanted but never had. Emma knew she would drop everything if Henry needed her, but Hope's home was in Storybrooke, with family.

Snow and David were still in Storybrooke, and she saw her parents almost every day. It was crazy to think that her baby brother was almost the same age Henry was when he found Emma. In spite of the age difference, Neal and Hope played well together. Both kids called Regina 'Aunt Regina.' Even though she wasn't their real aunt, Regina was always invited to any dinners or gatherings when Henry was there and was generally invited for anything big even when he wasn't in town.

Emma was still Sheriff and Killian was Deputy Sheriff. They both worked during the day and were home in time for dinner with Hope unless something came up, but things had been pretty quiet since the final battle.

Emma was happy – happier than she ever thought she could be. The only thing that would make her happier was if Henry came home.

The house was unusually quiet. It was never quiet during the day anymore, not with a five year old running around. But Hope had passed out almost as soon as her head hit the pillow that night, not even able to stay awake for the story she begged for. Little lass was too tired to keep her eyes open.

After a lazy morning eating pancakes and watching Sunday morning cartoons, they took Hope and Neal out on the Jolly Roger and then went back to David and Snow's for a big family dinner.

Killian loved his daughter more than anything in the world, but he also loved the rare moments alone with his wife. He carefully extracted himself from their daughter's twin bed, adjusting the covers over her sleeping form. He smiled as he looked down at her, tucking a stray lock of still-damp blonde hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear and watching as it curled.

Hope Alice Jones was the perfect mixture of her parents. She had hair exactly like her mother's, but she had his eyes and his smile. She had high cheekbones like him and a dimpled chin like Emma. She was beautiful…sometimes Killian couldn't believe he had helped create something so beautiful.

He turned the lamp on the bedside table off and headed downstairs to find Emma. She got bathtime and he got bedtime. Emma always came in to kiss Hope goodnight, but he told better stories. Sometimes his wife listened to the stories he weaved for the little one, a mixture of fact and fiction, but she usually gave him that time with their daughter. It was his time with Hope. Now he wanted some time with her mother.

Emma was already settled on the couch with a glass of wine and the TV on. She glanced over at him as he descended the stairs. "That was fast. Must have been a short story."

"The pirate captain and the savior princess," Killian told her.

"Again?" Emma said with a groan. She didn't like the way he told their story, at least not their first meeting in the Enchanted Forest when she left him up a beanstalk. And she still wasn't very accepting of the princess title even though it was her birthright.

"Aye, but don't worry." Killian grinned. "She fell asleep before the pirate captain met the savior princess."

Emma snorted softly. "Princesses don't generally climb beanstalks."

No, Emma was not your typical princess, far from it, and Killian knew no ordinary princess would have held his interest the way she did. He would have quickly tired of a life that was all royal pomp and circumstance and a lass whose life revolved around balls, but he would never tire of his life here with Emma. They had fought hard for the life they had now, but it was well worth it…she was well worth it.

Killian sat down next to his wife on the couch and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer and breathing in her scent. "I like a lass who breaks the rules a little."

Emma glanced up at him, smirking slightly. "I hope you remember that when our daughter's a teenager," she said in an amused tone.

Killian grimaced, not liking the idea of his baby as a rebellious teenager at all. "Thank you for putting that thought in my head."

Emma turned to face him then, tilting her head back as she chuckled softly. Once she stopped laughing, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. He knew it was her way of apologizing for laughing at him – an unnecessary apology. She brushed the pad of her thumb across his cheekbone as her hand went to cup the back of his head. She kissed him again, and this time it wasn't on the cheek and it was much more than an apology.

After a long, passionate kiss, they both pulled back a little breathlessly. "Perhaps we should take this upstairs," he suggested in a low murmur.

Emma moved to get up from the couch, the glass of wine on the coffee table easily forgotten as she headed for the staircase. She glanced over her shoulder, almost as if to make sure he was following. He was right behind her and merely raised his eyebrows, enjoying immensely the blush on his wife's pale skin when her cheeks turned pink. He could still make her blush even after all these years.

He trailed behind his wife all the way up to the bedroom. He shut the door tightly behind him. They had learned the hard way that even when they thought their little one was asleep, they still ran the risk of her waking in the middle of the night and coming to find them.

He didn't lock the door, but at least with it closed, they would have some warning if their daughter came to find them. He knew they would hear her tiny hand fumbling with the brass doorknob before she made an entrance – if she made an entrance. Somehow he doubted she would that night. She was one tired little lass. She might even sleep in – no, he didn't think they'd be quite that lucky.

Sleeping in didn't really happen with a five year old, at least not their five year old. Hope rose with the sun...sometimes before the sun.

Emma was already pulling one of his old t-shirts over her head when he turned from the door. He caught a glimpse of her perfectly toned stomach before she adjusted the shirt. He loved seeing her in nothing but a shirt - his shirt. He took a second to admire his wife's form.

"What are you waiting for?" Emma asked.

What was he waiting for? Absolutely nothing. Their daughter was sound asleep in the other room, and he had his beautiful wife ready and waiting - rather impatiently - for him. He couldn't keep her waiting, could he?

Henry woke up when someone - or something – tripped over him. He'd been in the Enchanted Forest long enough to know that it could be anything.

He sat up from his makeshift bed on the floor of the forest, his hand going instinctively to the hilt of his sword, and took in his surroundings carefully. He relaxed when he saw that it was a who, not a what, that had tripped over him. The young teenage girl that had fallen face-first on the ground didn't look like a threat. In fact, she looked like she thought he might be a threat.

Henry stood and approached her slowly, not wanting to scare her any more than he already had. When he reached her, he extended a hand to help her up off the ground. "Here, let me help you up," he said gently when she didn't take the offered hand.

The girl continued to ignore his hand. "I'm fine, thank you." She pushed herself up, brushing dirt off the front of her dress as she stood. She started to gather her things, which had scattered all over when she fell.

The least he could do was help her. Henry reached down to pick up a piece of parchment that had landed near his feet. He blinked in surprise when he saw that it was actually a map with Storybrooke on it. The letters spelling out the name of his hometown weren't black like the names of all the other towns and cities on the map. They were glowing. There was definitely something magical about the map.

"Storybrooke? Why do you have this?" Henry questioned.

The girl stared at the map with wide eyes and then looked at Henry warily. "My…father is there," she said reluctantly.

Henry's eyes widened. "Really? I'm from Storybrooke." He studied the girl carefully. She did look kind of familiar, but he didn't know why she looked so familiar. "Who's your father?"

The girl looked surprised for a split second before staring down at her feet. "I don't know."

Henry frowned in confusion, trying to understand. "You don't know? If you don't know who your father is, how do you know he's in Storybrooke?"

The girl didn't answer. She shifted her weight to her right foot and glanced around surreptitiously. It looked like she might run – with or without the map.

Henry didn't want her to run. He could help her if her dad was really in Storybrooke, but he wouldn't use one of his few remaining magic beans if she was lying and wanted to go to Storybrooke for some other reason. He didn't think she was lying, but he had grown less trusting in the time he'd spent in the Enchanted Forest.

Henry sighed. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me. I was just curious. If your father's in Storybrooke, I probably know him."

"I'm telling the truth," the girl insisted, starting to sound a little defensive. "I don't know who my father is. He left my mother before I was born. She never talked about him, and she's dead now so she can't tell me who he is."

Henry offered her a small, sympathetic smile, though he still didn't understand how the girl knew her dad was in Storybrooke if she didn't know who he was. "I was adopted. I found my birth mom when I was ten, and I found my dad when I was eleven," he told her honestly, trying to connect with her. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen," the girl muttered.

Henry knew his adoptive mom's curse had torn families apart and the ogre wars had left a lot of kids orphaned. Whatever it was that had left this girl alone, his heart went out to her. "My birth mom and my adoptive mom are in Storybrooke. My birth mom – her name's Emma – she's good at finding people. She can help you."

The girl looked skeptical. "Even if I don't know who he is?"

Henry nodded. "If he's in Storybrooke, my mom will find him. That's what she does. Are you sure he's in Storybrooke?"

The girl glanced subtly at the map and nodded confidently.

"The map – it's magical, isn't it?" Henry said with a knowing expression.

The girl gasped and looked around nervously like she expected someone to jump out of the woods and cart her away for possession of a magical object.

Actually, now that Henry thought about it, the girl might be afraid of that. People in this world believed in magic, but they seemed to fear it. Even the people who weren't around for his adoptive mom's curse had heard the stories about the evil queen and curses. Some of the villages in the Enchanted Forest had even outlawed magic completely.

"It's okay. I won't tell anyone. My moms have magic…both of them, and they're good. I know not all magic is bad."

"The map – it's from a spell," the girl admitted in a near whisper. "Some sort of locator spell. The witch used my blood for it."

"I guess we're going to Storybrooke then," Henry said with a smile.