This story was written as a gift for my Captain Swan Secret Santa, Robyn. MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Disclaimer: All characters are property of a person who is not me, this story is purely for entertainment.

A month might not seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things, especially to someone who had lived three hundred years pining for lost love and searching for revenge. Practice didn't seem to make the longing easier, though. It didn't make the pain of having lost Emma more bearable. Perhaps something was different this time. He hadn't lost Emma to death or darkness. She was out there somewhere, living her life. Happy. With no memory of him. Maybe that made all the difference.

"Hook!" The call came from the docks, muffled as the sound filtered through distance and wooden walls. Even so, the pirate had spent enough time with the prince to recognize his voice. And he had spent enough time with him to know that if he didn't respond, it was only a matter of time before -

The knock on the door came right on cue, the sharp crack of knuckles on wood was impatient. "Hook." Killian's groan was almost audible as he pushed himself up from the chair he'd been sitting in for who knew how many hours. He paused at the door, forcing a smirk as he pulled it open to reveal David, looking thoroughly out of place on the ship. Picking him out as a prince in Storybrooke or Neverland had been a matter of personality. Now, back in their land, his status was easy to see from the lace on the edges of his shirt and the quality of the leather of his vest.

"Your highness. To what do I owe this pleasure?" The sarcasm in his voice was easy to read for anyone, though David had spent enough time with the pirate to recognize it as what it was. To recognize the rum fueled edge to his words and the smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"There is a holiday we celebrated in Storybrooke, it's called Christmas." He didn't comment on his observations, only kept on as if he noticed nothing wrong. He brushed past the pirate, making himself at home in the small quarters and causing the captain to raise and eyebrow and close the door behind him. "Mary Margaret and I decided it would be a good excuse for a ball. A way to celebrate being home and to remember what we left behind." The words were loaded. While most of the former inhabitants of Storybrooke were glad to be back, their small band lost more than just their jeans and electronics. "She - and I - wanted to invite you to celebrate with us."

Killian had avoiding the Prince and Princess - David and Mary Margaret - since they'd gotten back. Had avoided any direct memory of the short time he'd spent with a heart free of hate, thanks to Emma. He'd known, on some level, he couldn't avoid them forever but he hadn't expected David to show up on his ship inviting him to the castle.

"She told me not to take no for an answer," David added before Killian could get the words out.

Make that demanding.

"I suppose that means I'll see you at the ball."

Emma had never really loved Christmas. Growing up a foster kid, Christmas was a rough holiday. Whether she was with a family or in a group home, she never really felt like she belonged anywhere when the holidays roamed around. People looked at her with pity more now than ever and pity was an emotion Emma hated. But when other people weren't feeling sorry for her, she was feeling sorry for herself. Christmas was a family holiday and it was impossible for the season to pass without Emma being reminded that she was an orphan and had no real family.

The first Christmas after Henry was born, though, Emma found herself throwing her energy into the holiday. For the first time in her life, she had a family. Her nineteen year old idealism was determined that Henry would never know a Christmas like the ones she had known. That first holiday was small, just her and her infant son, but it was the best Christmas she'd ever had. Since then, Christmas in the Swan household was the universally accepted best holiday.

As was one of their many traditions, Emma and Henry had gone shopping for the afternoon to pick out new ornaments for the tree. Every year they went to this little Christmas shop that was hidden in New York and each picked a favorite ornament to add to their collection on the tree. Henry had gotten lost among the aisles somewhere, but Emma wasn't worried. As soon as they entered he'd bolted off, but the store was small and he knew not to leave the building without her.

As she waited for him to find her - he always did - she looked at the ornaments on display decorating the little trees. Crystal designs, jolly Santas, skiing snowmen, ever imaginable ornament had a place in the store. Almost everything they sold here was hand made and Emma smiled as she took in each unique piece. In the corner near the back of the store, one particular ornament caught Emma's eye. It was a hand built ship, all wooden. The design was impeccable - the polished yellow molding, the intricate patterns of rope hanging from sails, the different levels of the deck - everything was precise and perfect. She leaned closer to examine it, turning it gently in her hand. A miniature captain's quarters was barely visible through the tiny windows on the stern of the ship, and the sails blew with the air as she jostled the ship. Everything about the little ship seemed to have been shrunk down magically, not carved at such a small scale. It was incredible and fascinating, she couldn't take her eyes off of it.

"Mom." Henry's voice pulled her from her examination of the ship but from the tone of his voice and the look on his face, it wasn't the first time he'd called her name. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Everything's great. Did you find your ornament?" she asked, a bright smile crossing her lips as she sank back into the moment, her fascination with the ship forgotten. Henry nodded, holding out a miniature prince - complete with sword and swirling cape. He'd been obsessed with knights and princes and dragons and that kind of thing for the past few months and she should have guessed that would be his choice.

"What about you? Is that it?" He looked past her to the little ship that hung on the tree. "What kind of ship is it? It looks like a navy ship or something. Like the Dauntless, from Pirates of the Caribbean." Another of his favorites. Before princes it had been pirates that had his attention. Emma pursed her lips in thought, looking at the ship again. For some reason, she hadn't thought about a navy ship. Looking at it now she could see why he'd guess that. The colored wood and the name painted officially on the back all supported his guess but still, something else stuck out in her mind.

"I kind of think it's - a pirate ship."

Killian had never been to a ball before and he could tell from the smirk on David's face - on the rare moments he was able to approach the pirate - that it showed. The entire kingdom had turned out for the event. The dwarves were there in full, Ruby was dancing her way around the hall with any number of handsome men. Belle and Bae sat conversing quietly, both smiling more now than they had the last Killian saw of them but both still clearly recovering from the loss of Rumplestiltskin. Even the Queen had come, her attitude much changed since she'd lost Henry.

Killian spent most of the night at the edges of the room, charming those who approached him but making no effort to immerse himself in the festivities. He felt sorely out of place. He didn't know this holiday and - for the most part - didn't know these people. He'd been standing and watching the dancing for some time when Snow White and Prince Charming made their way over to his corner of the room.

"Hook, I'm so glad you came." Mary Margaret's smile was wide as she let go of David's arm and hugged Hook as if they'd been friends for years. It took the pirate by surprise, he wasn't used to being welcomed much of anywhere.

"Who am I to turn down such a party?" His smile was charming, though it didn't quite reach his eyes as he spoke.

"Well we figured it was the only way we'd ever get you to the castle," she added on. "You've been holed up on that ship since - well since with got back." Her smile softened as her voice took on a concerned tone.

"Ah. Checking up on me, then. I assure you, your highness, I'm just more comfortable on the water." The lie fell flat and not one of the three of them believed his words. Only Mary Margaret had the lack of tact - or the imperviousness to discomfort - to mention it.

"We all miss them," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "We all miss her." He avoided her eyes as she spoke so clearly of Emma, something he'd avoided doing at all costs. "But you have to believe that we will see them again. Someday."

"Do I?" He raised an eyebrow at her, not sure what she was getting at and uninterested in false hope.

"Yes. It's an annoying family trait of ours. We always find each other." Her smile was genuine, if a bit cheeky. "David and I wanted to give you something. Something that will help." He watched with confusion as she pulled off the white glove she wore on her left hand. From her finger she took a ring, a silver band with a green stone, and held it up to him. "This ring belonged to David's mother. She gave it to him to give to his wife and when he needed a way to find me, Rumpelstiltskin enchanted it to help him find his true love." Hook looked at it blankly, not understanding what this had to do with him and she grinned, seeing she had to go on. "The enchantment is as strong now as it was the day it was first charmed."

At that, Hook raised his eyes to hers. "One day when we figure out how to get back to that world without triggering Pan's curse, this will help you find her again," she went on. Her smile widened as understanding dawned in his eyes and she held the ring out to him.

"Mary Margaret -" the normally verbose pirate paused, searching for the right words. "Thank you."

"Merry Christmas, Killian."

Emma wasn't one for Christmas parties. Though in the holiday's defense, she wasn't much a fan of any party. Crowds weren't really her thing and she hated having to socialize with people she didn't know until she could finally find a socially acceptable reason to leave. She didn't often bother with them but she'd promised Chris she'd go. It was a work party and she'd made him swear they would leave by ten so she could get home in time to say goodnight to Henry.

The hours seemed to drag on as she made fake conversation with some of Chris's co-workers and feigned interest in the gift exchange game they played. Somewhere during the night she'd lost track of her boyfriend to the crowd and had found herself by the bar. It was a safe place to wait for Christ to find her and if she had to engage in any awkward conversation, she wanted to be near alcohol while she it was happening.

She was faking a smile as she listened to a story an elderly member of the firm was telling when she felt it. A feeling like someone was watching her. Or looking out for her. It wasn't an uncomfortable feeling, on the contrary it was almost comforting. She looked around but didn't see anyone's eyes on her. She tried to turn her attention back to the conversation but over the older man's shoulder, a figure caught her eye. Brown tousled hair, stubble on his chin, a heavy black jacket.

"Would you excuse me," she asked with a hurried smile as she brushed past the man. It wasn't Chris she'd seen, wasn't anyone she could name. But something about the figure had caught her attention. She had gone only a few hurried steps when she caught sight of him again and the flash of recognition was gone. He was another well dressed stranger at a party.

"Emma, are you ready to go?" Chris's voice interrupted her thoughts and she turned to face him. "You look like you saw a ghost. You okay?" His arm wrapped around her as he came up beside her and she nodded, sparing a last glance for the stranger before smiling up at Chris.

"Everything is great." Together they started walking out of the party, Emma excited to get home to her son and into more comfortable clothes. But as they walked through the New York holiday lights towards her apartment, she realized the feeling hadn't gone. The feeling that someone, somewhere was - looking for her.