Hello world! I have re-entered the fic writing with this tiny drabble. I may post other drabbles on this same fic if that ends up happening and they end up being written. But for now you get this.

I have fallen deep into the Captain Swan hole and I blame OUAT. I throw this into the void of the interwebs and hope you like it.

Three days.

Killian has faced a whirlwind of emotions in the past three days, each and every one of them revolving around the small bundle that Emma is placing slowly into a bassinette across from the couch.

Charlotte Leia Jones arrived in a hurry, two weeks early, and thankfully in a moment of peace in Storybrooke. She weighed in at 6 pounds, 3 ounces, and she was the spitting image of her mother – other than the brightest blue eyes Killian had only ever seen on one other person.

For the longest time, even longer when he thinks about how time passes in the underworld, Killian never thought he would get this in life. Never thought he could have someone to love, and a child of his own to care for. And now that he has it all – he feels like his heart may explode from all the love. He also feels he would explode from the terror of it all. Especially the thought of being a good father, of not being like his own, of not being like the man who killed his own.

Thankfully, he has yet to face little Charlotte on his own – the past three days had everyone and their dwarf visiting, bringing food, holding the babe. Their fridge is stocked with enough food from Granny's to !last a month. Henry has been in and out between being interested in his new sister and being more interested in his newest X-box game. There wasn't a time when David or Mary Margaret weren't in the house either, young Neal wandering in and out along with Henry. Regina had even come by, bringing Roland and Robin and their toddler. At some point in time he thinks all seven dwarves were attempting to get their personalized onesies onto Charlotte. It was chaos.

And yet, sitting with Emma on the couch, looking at the small wrapped up bundle, and listening to the silence – he kind of wishes everyone would come back.

Emma's head is beginning to droop, leaning on Killian's shoulder. He smiles, places a kiss to the top of her hair.

"God, don't kiss my hair," Emma moans, "I swear I haven't washed it since before Charlotte was born."

Killian lets out a small chuckle. "You're still just as beautiful, Swan. And I've dealt with worse – you wouldn't believe how hard it is to get a decent wash in on the seas."

Emma snuggles in closer to Killian, and he can feel the smile on her face. The two sit in silence, staring at the yawning child, at the pink in her cheeks and the small blonde flecks coming out of her head. Killian thinks Emma may have dozed off when she leans up and lets out a yawn of her own.

"Okay, I think I need a shower. Or a nap." Emma reaches out, stretching her arms above her head. "Or a nap in the shower."

She gets up, and Killian's eyes widen. "Love, wait, can you just?"

Emma turns around, the panic evident in Killian's tensed body. She glances at Charlotte, whose tiny eyes are beginning to close, and bends down so she is crouched between Killian's legs.

"I've never been left alone with her," Killian says. It's almost a whisper, thrown out into the distance where it won't be found. But of course Emma knew his real fears long before Charlotte was born.

"You won't be like him. You won't leave her, or let her down, or betray her." Killian looks up at Emma, staring into her eyes. "Just like you haven't done any of those things to me." A small smile, a glimpse of hope, but Killian pushes it away to leave a mask of nerves.

"What if she?"

"Killian." Emma interrupts, one hand coming up to run down the right side of his cheek. "It's just a shower. Twenty minutes at best. You won't be alone with her forever."

"I know but-" Killian starts.

"No buts. She's fed, she's changed, she isn't too fussy right now. You can do this Killian. You were great with her when everyone else was here, and you will be great with her now." Charlotte lets out another tiny yawn. "Besides, she will probably sleep the whole time anyways."

"I suppose you're right." Killian concedes, turning his head to place a kiss to Emma's palm. "And you could use a shower." He adds, noticing some dried baby drool in Emma's hair, along with the various stains on the tee-shirt she is wearing.

"Thanks, Killian," Emma says sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she stands to go shower. She stops at the bassinette, placing a kiss on her hand and tapping it onto the baby's forehead. As she heads out, Killian's small voice stops her.

"What do I do if she stirs?" He asks, his voice once again small and scared.

Emma turns towards him, leaning on the doorway. After a pause, she says, "Sing to her. Or tell her a story. Your voice always calmed her down before."

Killian thinks back to the restless nights during Emma's pregnancy when Charlotte wouldn't calm down and Emma could barely get any sleep. Some nights he would sing an old sea shanty to her belly, or tell stories from his pirating days, or just read from Henry's storybook. Without fail, twenty minutes later Emma would be snoozing quietly and Charlotte had calmed down. "Aye, it did."

With one final smile, Emma leaves the room and heads upstairs.

Killian sits in silence, listening to the small sounds of breathing coming from the bassinette. It is the quietest the house has been in weeks – no building of baby furniture, no discussing names or colours to paint the nursery, no family or friends coming by with presents or well wishes or food. Just quiet – quiet and soft breathing. Somehow through the silence Killian is vaguely aware of the sounds of pipes and water turning on.

This isn't so bad, Killian thinks to himself. He flexes his fake hand, still trying to get used to the magical one Regina had made him. He is able to move the hand, to use it properly, but is unable to feel anything through it. It makes things easier – dexterity is useful for many things. And it did qualm one of his fears of fatherhood – a hook is much easier to poke a child with than a hand.

Standing, Killian leans over the bassinette and watches Charlotte as she breathes. Her eyes are wide open, but yet she lets out another yawn. Killian reaches his good hand in, running his thumb over her tiny curls, lingering as he reaches her cheek. Charlotte turns her head, her mouth searching for his thumb. When he pulls away, she lets out a small whimper.

Oh no, no no no. Killian thinks, his hand going back to stroke down her face. But alas, it is too late. The small whimpers turn into small exhales, and those turn into tears. The tears turn into full blown wails and Killian's hand stroking her cheek is doing absolutely nothing to calm Charlotte down.

"Bloody hell," Killian swears, then catches himself. "Sorry, love, but I don't know what to do." He removes his hand and paces the length of the room. Returning, Charlotte's wails have only gotten stronger and she doesn't seem to be stopping. "I can't… I've never…"

Tentatively, Killian reaches down and lifts the small bundle into his arms. He is vaguely aware of everyone reminding him to cradle her head, and so Killian does just that. His fake hand is under Charlotte's bottom, her body resting along his arm. His good hand comes along to hold behind her head, bringing her close to his body. This seems to help, just a little. The wails calm down, only so much to be classified as crying without trying to scream one's head off.

Killian moves, starts pacing. He saw David do this with young Neal quite a bit, walking around the apartment seemed to sooth the boy. But Charlotte is having none of it, her cries increasing in volume as he continues to pace.

"Charlotte, I can't do this, love," He says, his feet never stopping to move. "I don't know why you're crying, and Emma is in the bloody shower, and I am all alone and I have no bloody idea what to do and you won't stop crying and I'm just not bloody good at this. I can't do this," Killian pauses, his thoughts coming clearer now that the room has stopped being filled with sound. He looks down at the babe in his arms, who is staring up at him with bright blue eyes. The tears have stopped, but now in the silence she lets out a small whimper.

"Please, don't start up again," Killian says. As he does, Charlotte's whimpers stop. A single lone tear rolls down her cheek.

"Talking…." Killian starts, his thumb sweeping over to remove the tear. "You want me to keep talking. That'll keep you from crying, will it?" Charlotte hiccups, and Killian takes it like an answer.

"Well, keep talking I will then." He moves, tentatively, to go sit down on the couch. "Emma told me to talk, but I don't even know what to talk to you about. I can't tell you about my pirate adventures now, those aren't appropriate for your ears. Emma would kill me if I told you stories from the underworld. And by no means will she have me tell you of how you were made." By now Killian is sitting on the couch. He pauses in his speech, looking down at the tiny bundle in his arms. She lets out another whimper.

"I am horrible at this, aren't I?" Killian sighs, leaning down in the couch and snuggling Charlotte closer. "Well, what if I tell you a story of…" He thinks for a minute, and Charlotte blinks her big blue eyes up at him. "Bloody hell. Let's tell you the story of someone else who shared those eyes, my big brother Liam."

And, as the words flow freely from Killian's mouth, the small child in his arms doesn't seem as scary as before. Especially not in the way she seems to snuggle closer into his warmth as the stories progress, or in the way that her eyes stare up in wonder. Perhaps he could do this after all.

Almost thirty minutes later, Emma walked back down to the living room. She felt refreshed, albeit exhausted. Her hair was washed and in a neat braid, she was wearing a clean pair of sweatpants and one of Killian's tops, and she had used Killian's soap so she smelt like him. When she had come out of the shower, she had debated taking a short nap but nixed that in favour of helping Killian with his fear of being alone with little Charlotte. After all, she had left him for ten minutes longer than she had said she would.

When she reached the bottom step, however, Emma could distinctly hear the sound of Killian talking. She walked slowly up to the side of the room, peering in around the corner to keep him from seeing.

Sitting on the couch was her pirate, a calming smile on his face as he continued through his story. In his arms was Charlotte, wrapped in her pink blanket, breathing slowly and staring with wide eyes up at her father. Killian's good hand was held above Charlotte, her tiny hand poking out from the blanket and wrapped around his thumb.

"And then Liam finally pulled the fish up from the net – it was practically as big as I was and I was already a good size. He held the fish up triumphantly, and declared that we needn't go hungry again. Liam and I had lived off of that fish for a week before it started to rot." There was a pause, ample time for Emma to pull out her phone and snap a few quick photos. "You know, you have a big brother too. His name is Henry, you've met him a few times." Charlotte lets out a hiccup. "Yes, so you have heard of him. Well, if you and Henry have a relationship like Liam and I did, then I'd say you're set in the family department. Though, please don't tell your mother how much I swore a few minutes ago. It's not my fault I have fears about this, but I seem to be getting the hang of it, don't you think?" Another hiccup, and Charlotte's eyes start to close. "Well, perhaps I should continue to entertain you. How about the story of…"

Emma misses whatever other story Killian might be telling, slowly creeping back up the stairs. Seeing him with Charlotte, seeing him so at ease after just thirty minutes or so – well, that disperses any fears Emma had about their future as parents. Killian was doing just fine, fears and all.

She could definitely afford to take that twenty minute nap.