*Title taken from The Lord Chancellor's Nightmare, a song from "Iolanthe", by Gilbert and Sullivan, 1882.

A/N-So, I was asked to write a drabble from The Ghost and Emma Swan by Lakariana and this is what happened. This takes place sometime after Emma gets the news about the lawsuit but before he gives her the compass. Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Enjoy! As always, reviews are appreciated!

He knew he shouldn't be here.

It was bad form to go back on his word, after all, and if he was honest with himself, he hated the thought of her finding out and pulling away just as they were starting to be, well, friendly towards each other. If she closed off now, or worse, if she left, he would have to go back to the way things were before and he just didn't know if he could face that sort of hell again. Not now that he'd had a taste of the alternative.

And yet, despite the risk, he just couldn't seem to stay away.

There was just something about the little lad that was just so fascinating he was willing to risk it.

Having spent his life at sea, Killian had never had the opportunity to deal with children before. Yet, now that there was one living under his roof, he couldn't help but astounded by him. Henry seemed so full of hope and wonder and life, with his constant questions and observances about the world and how he just always seemed to be on the move. Were all children like that? And how Swan had the energy to keep up with him was mind-boggling.

Bloody hell. He hadn't had a physical body in over two centuries, and he was exhausted from it.

Perhaps, that's why he liked coming here, when Henry was asleep, to keep watch over him. Like most nights, the boy was nestled up snugly in his sheets, his long lashes fluttering on his round cheeks as he dreamt. His brow was slack and face was that of serene innocence only someone very young could possess.

He could stay and watch the lad slumber for hours (and had before), just trying to imagine what he was dreaming about. Not only did watching him bring a sense of peacefulness to his own tortured thoughts, but being around the lad had eased something in him that he hadn't been aware had been hurting.

Nighttime, for a ghost, was the worst part of the being dead. Long, lonely stretches of time where next to nothing happened in the corporeal realm lead to boredom and too much introspection. Perhaps that's why so many ghosts seemed to haunt the living at night. It wasn't as if the time of day made any difference to them. One could just as easily pester them in daylight as at night. But there was something about being invisible in the darkness that made a person need to lash out, if only to prove to themselves that they did exist after all.

Watching Henry sleep alleviated some of that need.

It was different than watching Swan. With her, it felt too personal, a bit too voyeuristic, especially since his thoughts tended to stray to a more carnal direction than he was ready to admit. But with Henry, he found himself picturing the life he might have had, with a wife and child of his own. Of course he knew that it wasn't something that would ever be possible, and really it should have fueled the raging fire of bitterness and betrayal of the life stolen from him. But for some reason…it didn't. The slow, steady rise of the young lad's chest, the serene expression on his face had the opposite effect. It calmed him, centered him. Made him feel more like the young honorable naval captain he used to be.

In fact, ever since Swan and the boy's arrival, he had been feeling more and more like the man he used to be. And for that alone, he was immensely grateful.

Killian sighed, his thoughts slowly swimming back the moment as he ran his good hand down over his face. There were still many more hours of nightwatch to keep and he was already deep set in melancholy.

As if sensing the change in his mood, Henry began tossing about under his covers. Illuminated by the moonlight, Killian could see that the little lad's brow was now furrowed and his face a scrunched in fear. Clearly, the boy was having a night terror of some sort, and Killian grew more and more concerned as the thrashing grew more violent.

What should he do? Try and wake the lad? No. Having some strange man appearing before him after a bad dream would probably only terrify him further. Not to mention, it would definitely violate his agreement with Swan. Wake her then? Recalling how tired she had looked when she had headed off to bed, he hated the thought of disturbing her, even though he knew she would want to come and console her son. So, what was he to do? He couldn't just leave the boy to his terror, could he?

Come on, man, think. You've had your share of nightmares, haven't you? What helped ease them?

There was always one thing that worked. Liam. When they were younger, after their father left them, he used to have terrible bad dreams. And it was Liam who would crawl up into his cot, pull his little brother into his arms and help soothe away the fear. He used to tell Killian tales of things he had heard from the other sailors at sea, or sometimes snatches of old tunes. It never failed to make him feel better.

Though he couldn't physically comfort Henry, perhaps there might be some way to help him. Calling up one of his most treasured memories, Killian perched himself on the side of the bed, near where Henry was still making gestures with his hands like he was warding off some great beast, and began to speak.

"Listen, lad. There's nothing to fear," Killian stated softly, not wishing to fully wake him, but hoping his voice might at least cut through the dream fog and reach him anyway. "You are safe, in your bed, and all that you are seeing is nothing more than a dream."

Henry whimpered, but the movements stilled and his breath slowly started to even out. It was working.

"That's right, m'boy. It's just a dream. I promise you, lad, there's nothing there that can hurt you," Killian tilted his head, trying to see the boy's face in the dark. He still wore a deep frown, and Killian knew that he wasn't through it just yet.

"Shall I tell you a tale, then? That's what used to help me when I was a wee lad." Letting his thoughts drift back, Killian smiled with the memories they recalled. "When Liam-that's my older brother; a right stubborn bast…uh, I mean git…but still the most honorable man I ever knew—and I were young, we were working aboard a merchant fluyt name La Concorde. Ah, lad, she was a beaut! Tall, gleaming white sails, dark wood that shown like bronze in the sun. And fast! When you stood at the bow, you'd swear she was about to take flight."

Killian paused, grinning to himself with the memory of the wind in his hair, the salty spray hitting his face. The way his heart raced as she ran fast over the dark grey waves. It was one of the first times in his life he could remember feeling completely happy. "I was a cabin boy and Liam, he was a rigger, so therefore, he often had to spend the long hours of the night watch in the crow's nest. Anyway, one night, all the men were celebrating something or other, and he was alone. Suddenly, the water off the port side began to glow with what he could only describe as a pale blue fire. He said it was like watching a giant candle rise up out of the water."

It was always at this point that he would stop his brother, asking him if he was afraid. And Liam would always answer the same way. "Of course I was scared, brother, but then I remembered you were asleep in the hold and my own fear didn't matter anymore." Those words never ceased to make him feel warm and safe, even now centuries later, because he knew they were true. Liam always put Killian first, even over his own fears.

Killian released a stuttered breath (out of reflex, not necessity) and looked down at the sleeping boy in his charge. Henry looked so small, so fragile and impossibly young, and suddenly, he understood just what his brother must have felt looking after him. He wasn't sure how he would accomplish it, but Killian knew there wasn't a thing in this world or any other that he wouldn't do to keep this young lad safe.

Forgetting himself for a minute, Killian reached out to stroke back the locks of dark hair away from the boy's forehead, only to have his fingers float right through him. Henry shivered and wiggled further into his blanket cocoon. With a heavy heart, Killian snatched back his hand, staring down at it traitorously, his thoughts drifting once more into darkness as he realized that all his fine proclamations were utterly useless. He was dead. Nothing more than ether and memory. He couldn't save Henry or protect him. And he definitely couldn't comfort him.

He was a ghost; himself the stuff of nightmares.

He should leave now, barricade himself in the attic for the rest of eternity and accept his lot in life.

He should leave Emma and her son alone.

He should.

But he couldn't. Maybe he was only deluding himself, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they needed him. Somehow. It wasn't what he wanted, but for now, it was enough.

"What do you suppose it was, eh?" He began, his voice rough with emotion, but trying to keep it light for the lad's sake. "A mermaid? Davy Jones come to collect his due? No. When the light faded, there, sitting upon the waves as pretty as you please, was a giant blue horse. Well, I say horse. It had the body of one to be sure, but its hind legs were that of a great fish. And do you know what it did when it spotted my brother? It neighed and spat him with water, right in the face!"

He wasn't sure, but he thought he could make out a smile on the boy's lips, and he wondered if maybe the boy wasn't quite as asleep as he seemed. Either way, Henry's nightmare was long since forgotten, and it was time for him to leave before the lad called his bluff and woke. Yet, he was loathe to leave.

Not yet, not yet.

"Aye, my proud, uptight brother stood there on the deck, water dripping off him and that magical bloody water horse just laughing at him. A sensible person would run off, wake the Captain and crew and get them to see the creature off. So do you know what he did? He took a bucket of wash water and tossed it right back at the thing!" Killian couldn't help but chuckle, always had at this point in his brother's story. He remembered how indignant Liam would look when he told him that, how he couldn't believe something had dared to spit at him like that. How it was only right that he return the courtesy, even if the creature was half the size of the ship and obviously magic. Killian always wound laugh himself out of breath, until the other sleeping sailor were woken by the noise and would angrily shush him into submission. Frankly, he was surprised Liam didn't join them. Instead, he simply kept talking telling him about how the horse had reared up on its back legs like it was in shock and had latterly galloped off (or rather swam off) over the waves like it was afraid for its life.

"Inevitably, it wasn't until after the beastie departed that anyone came up to see what the commotion was about. No one believed him, of course, and Liam was made to shine all the men's boots the next day as punishment for making up tales, but he never wavered from his admission."

It was a preposterous tale, but young Killian never once thought that Liam had made it all up. His belief in his brother was far too strong for such a thing, so there were many times Killian found himself staring down into the deep water trying to get a glimpse of the water horse just so he could back up his brother's tale.

Henry sighed deeply, and Killian knew that was his cue to depart. He stood up, giving the boy a long, soft look. "Sleep well, Master Henry, and have no fear," he whispered, leaning back down so that he could see the calm, happy expression on the boy's face, holding himself back from the instinct to press a kiss to his head. Henry's eyes darted wildly under his lids, and he wondered if the lad was dreaming of riding across the waves on the back of a magical water horse. He hoped it was so.

"You are safe and loved far more than you know. And I promise I will watch out for you, just like my brother once did for me." With that, he took his leave and didn't see when Henry suddenly jerked awake.

In the dark, the boy's eyes flew open, looking frantically around the room, frowning deeply when he found it empty. He had so many questions for the man that lived in his house, and he was certain, when he heard his voice calling to him through his dreams, that he would be there when he woke up. Henry had no idea why the man kept hiding from him, but he was certain he was here as a friend, and one day soon, he would find him.

In the meantime, all he had was the echo of the man's solemn promise to look after him. The man might be playing a very strange game of hide-and-seek, but he knew the words were true. So, as he felt sleep trying to tug him back under once more, Henry smiled up at the dark, because he knew that no matter what kind of bad dreams might come, the man would always keep him safe.