A Little Spark

She'd had crying fits before. After four months with his daughter, Hope, in his life, Killian was used to her occasionally becoming inconsolable for a while. Fifteen minutes, or a half hour that would feel like an eternity. He had read all the baby books in the months before their daughter had arrived, comparing notes with Emma over a cup of tea or hot chocolate at the end of the day. He knew all the reasons that a four month old might be crying: hunger, needing to be changed, gas, over-tiredness, teething, and the dreaded four-month sleep regression.

"Bloody hell," he muttered as the infant girl continued to wail in his arms an hour past her normal 7:30 PM bedtime, as he helplessly rocked her and circled the living room for about the twenty-seventh time.

He was slowly beginning to accept the sad fact: sleep regression it was. Of course, the night his darling daughter had decided to start fighting sleep was the first night since she'd been born that her mother had left them for more than an hour or two.

Tonight, Emma was attending a dinner meeting in neighboring Arendelle. The intent was to strengthen relations with the Captain of Queen Elsa's Guard, who was in charge of law enforcement in the kingdom and who now, technically, reported to Emma, Sheriff of Storybrooke, the governing seat of the new realm merged by Queen Regina. Emma and Elsa happened to be dear friends, and Elsa had gone to great lengths to assure her subjects, including members of her Royal Guard, that they would continue to operate with a considerable degree of autonomy and that little would change. However, Arendelle's residents were still nervous about the new arrangement, and Emma believed it was important to spend time with the Captain of the Guard in order to show him that she was a friend and colleague, not a new overlord there to dictate laws and policies.

So, accompanied by her father and part-time deputy, David Nolan, she had driven to Arendelle for dinner and camaraderie.

Killian was happy to stay behind. He still had his hand full with some local troubles in Storybrooke, which was suffering from a higher than usual rate of crime thanks to some of the more troublesome residents of neighboring realms, particularly his old home, Neverland. This afternoon, while Hope was still safely ensconced at Ashley's Daycare, Harbormaster Smee had called Killian at the sheriff's office frantically raving about a fishing boat that had been stolen by a couple of teenage boys wearing animal skins and whooping loudly as they revved the motor and sailed out towards the sea.

By the time Killian had made his way to the harbor, boarded the small police boat he kept there, and caught up with the bloody thieving Lost Boys (who had run out of gas, the idiots) the sun was already falling lower in the sky, and he knew he was going to be late to pick up Hope.

A quick call to Ashley had confirmed that she was okay to keep his darling girl until 6:30, a time that he just made thanks to Neverland Sheriff Tiger Lily's promptness in picking up the two Lost Boys from his holding cell for transport back to Neverland for discipline.

Ashley had managed to feed Hope a bottle of the breastmilk Emma had supplied before Killian picked her up, and he quickly checked to confirm she had a dry diaper after he lovingly plucked the little lass from Ashley's arms and snuggled her close.

"Her 4:30 nap only lasted about 15 minutes this time," Ashley told him apologetically. "She just couldn't seem to settle herself. Maybe she'll fall asleep in the car on the way home."

"Aye, perhaps," he replied. "Thank you again, Ashley, good night." He looked down at Hope, "Shall we, little lass? How about you catch up on some sleep on the way home?"

Unfortunately, as soon as he placed her in her carseat and buckled the straps, Hope decided that she was DONE. She scrunched up her adorable little face in annoyance as he carried her out the front door. She started crying as they reached the car. Finally, she was flat out WAILING as he quickly clicked the carseat into its base, which was fastened securely into the backseat of his and Emma's practical (but still cool, he thought) black Honda Pilot.

"All right, little lass," he said soothingly as he expertly steered them towards home with the help of the special spinning handle that Emma had attached to the steering wheel so that he could easily turn the large vehicle one-handed. "We're almost home."

He knew that a lack of sleep was the likely culprit for Hope's fussiness, but based on the increasingly high pitch of her wails, he thought she might also be experiencing some gas pain, so when he pulled up in front of his family's house, he immediately unbuckled her, picked her up, and gently patted the four-month-old's back so that she would burp. He stood with her in their front yard for about ten minutes, gently bouncing her up and down and alternately patting and rubbing her back. But he didn't hear a discernible burp, and still she wailed.

Finally admitting defeat, and not wanting to disturb the neighbors any further, he had grabbed the diaper bag from the backseat and carried it and Hope inside.

Now, as he circled the room again after futile attempts to soothe her, feed her, change her, and burp her, he was really stuck. He knew that she was probably over-tired (she wasn't sticking her fist in her mouth or exhibiting other obvious signs of teething) but his brief attempt to put her down in her crib and sneak away had proven torturous for both of them. Hope usually fell asleep easily after a bedtime nursing session with Emma, so they hadn't yet had to resort to the "Cry it Out" method of getting her to sleep on her own, and he wasn't about to start on a night when his nerves were already fried and his wife wasn't due home until after ten.

"Oh little lass," he breathed as he rocked her gently. "What can Daddy do for you? I'm so sorry Mummy isn't here, but I'll do ANYTHING to make you happy."

As he said the words, his eyes flickered to his phone resting on the end table near the couch. He didn't want to call Emma. This was her first night away from the baby, and the dinner meeting was important. Plus, she was getting to spend time with Elsa and David, two of her favorite people, without the constant distraction of an infant. He wanted to let her have this evening.

He knew that Hope wasn't sick. Not just because he had already checked her temperature with the forehead thermometer device, but also in the way that parents just know whether or not their kid is sick. Apparently, centuries-old pirates could have parental instincts too, because he knew in his gut and his heart (which currently felt like it was being wrung out like a sponge inside his chest thanks to the tearful wails of his beloved daughter) that she was just tired and upset.

That didn't mean he knew how to fix it.

Finally, he sighed, sat down on the couch, cradling Hope firmly in his left arm as she continued to wail, and called his mother-in-law.

"Killian! How is everything going?" Mary Margaret greeted him, cheerfully, but with a (warranted) note of concern.

Before he could even answer, she continued, "Oh, I hear that someone is upset!"

"Aye," he replied defeatedly. "She started crying as soon as we left Ashley's and hasn't stopped. I've tried everything, changing, feeding, burping, distracting her with her favorite octopus plushie...nothing works. I'm at a loss. I think she might be hitting that sleep regression stage."

"Oh Killian," Mary Margaret said. "I'm so sorry, what a tough night."

"I really don't want to call Emma, but I'm out of ideas."

"Well, I've definitely been in your shoes. If I can remember way back, Neal would mostly melt down if his sleep schedule was messed up, which unfortunately happened pretty often with our crazy lives. It sucks, but eventually she'll tire herself out if you just rock her and do your best to soothe her. I know it feels like an eternity, but it's not! And it's not like she'll ever even remember being this upset!"

As they spoke, Killian had continued to rock Hope gently with his left arm, holding her securely but as far away as possible from the phone so that he and Mary Margaret could hear each other. His mother-in-law's words were soothing, and he felt the tightness in his shoulders abate a bit as she spoke.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll be patient, hopefully some more rocking, maybe some singing and she'll eventually tire out."

"Right," she replied. "And if you need a break, take one! She can handle being put down for a few minutes while you rest your arms and get a glass of water. It's okay. Call me back if she doesn't calm down after an hour or so."

"Will do. Thanks again."

"Of course!"

He was about to click 'end call,' when he heard Mary Margaret call his name loudly.

"One more thing!" she practically shouted, so that he could hear her over Hope's cries. "A lot of times babies are really fussy right before they achieve a new milestone! Hope almost rolled over on her own the other day, right? Maybe she's going to do it, like, tomorrow, and this is just part of what she's doing to work through that big development!"

"Aye, makes sense," he replied gratefully. "Good night."

It DID make sense. Hope had been developing at an incredible pace lately, smiling at them, blinking her bright blue eyes happily and making wonderful gurgling, guttural noises in her throat whenever he made funny faces at her. He and Emma gave her plenty of time to play on her tummy, watching with joy as she worked hard to pick her head up and look at them, or reach for a toy they had placed near by. It seemed like she had just been born days ago, but already he could imagine her starting to wriggle on her belly or even lift up to crawl across the room at any time. Maybe between all this growth and the stress of their day, she was just having trouble keeping her emotions in check.

"Is that it, little lass?" he murmured, snuggling his still sobbing daughter close and nuzzling her damp cheek with his nose. "You need to rest and save some energy for all the amazing, wonderful things you are going to do!"

She paused her crying for a moment and gave a small hiccup.

He pulled his head back from her cheek and held her out in front of him a bit, his right wrist and hand supporting her upper back and neck as he turned her so that she was facing him. He looked into her sweet, exhausted face.

He expected her to start crying again after the brief respite to hiccup, but instead, she just looked at him with a deeply furrowed brow and a serious, struggling expression that was practically an exact copy of Emma's face whenever she was wrestling with a serious problem.

"What's wrong, darling?" he pleaded quietly. "Please let Daddy help."

When her troubled expression didn't change, he instinctively pulled her closer, supporting her bottom with his left forearm and rubbing her tense back soothingly with his right hand. Then, he gently touched his forehead to hers.

When their foreheads touched, it was as if a switch had been flipped, and suddenly, all the tension left Hope's head and body. He felt the exhale of her soft, sweet breath on his face, and something he couldn't immediately identify tickled his forehead in the spot where it rested against Hope's.

The sensation was like that of a small charge, the kind you get from static electricity when you're wearing socks on a carpeted floor (a phenomenon he'd only learned the name of since moving to Storybrooke.) But what Hope had generated didn't just spark and then disappear; it continued to crackle gently right where her skin touched his. And it didn't hurt at all. It just felt strangely alive and, somehow, full of love...like a benevolent bit of energy that just needed to reach out and say, "Hello, I'm here!"

It was then that he realized exactly what had happened: Hope had shown her magic for the first time.

Killian knew that if he could see what he was feeling, it would look like soft, white, sparkly energy connecting him to his daughter, who was now quiet. Killian was loathe to end the sensation, but he wanted to see Hope's expression and make sure that she wasn't afraid or upset, so he pulled back to look at her.

She returned his gaze with a big, gummy, mischievous grin. His little product of true love (twice over) knew that she had just done something special.

"My little lass, you are truly amazing," he said reverently. She continued to smile back at him but then blinked tiredly, and her head began to nod forward as she gave into exhaustion.

He changed his position on the couch so that he was leaning back against some soft throw pillows and adjusted his hold on Hope so that she was settled in against his chest, his left arm supporting her gently. He rubbed her back with his hand, and in a matter of less than a minute, she was breathing evenly and fast asleep.

Killian took a deep, soothing breath as he relaxed back further into the couch, enjoying the peace and warmth of his daughter sleeping against him even as his mind raced with amazement (and worry) at the fact that she'd already shown her powers at the tender age of four months. If she was capable of generating magic energy now, what would she be able to do at one year old? When she hit the "terrible" twos, would she be able to magically levitate a box of cookies off of the shelf and into her hands in defiance of her parents? The possibilities were endless and somewhat terrifying.

Forcing himself to relax, Killian consoled himself with the knowledge that he and Emma would figure it out like they always did. Plus, they had plenty of friends and family members with a history of magical powers (he pushed away the nefarious thought that two of those family members had used their magic for great evil before seeking redemption.) Hope was surrounded by a slew of positive magical influences, and if anyone could take the lead in guiding her on the right path, it was her magnificent and brilliant mother.

Killian didn't want to risk waking Hope by moving her to her crib, and truth be told, he was exhausted himself and quite comfortable on the couch. After a few minutes of peaceful sleep from Hope, he reached for the nearby TV remote, turned on a baseball game, and muted the sound. The slow and steady pace of the game was calming, and watching the Red Sox score eight runs against Tampa Bay was distracting enough to keep him awake. David, who, much to Henry's chagrin, had adopted the Red Sox as his modern world sports team would be happy with the result. (Henry said that no self-respecting New Yorker, one of which he considered himself despite only having lived there a year, could ever root for the Red Sox. He was a Yankees fan through and through.)

It was a little after ten when Killian heard footsteps on the front steps and the sound of Emma's key in the lock. Hope was still sleeping soundly on his chest, and the Red Sox postgame show had just begun on the silent TV.

"Hey there, Mr.-, I mean Captain Mom," Emma said sardonically as she stepped quietly into the living room and gazed lovingly down at her husband and baby. "Sorry you had a rough night," she added, taking in the slight mess: a discarded bottle on the coffee table, diaper bag on the floor, and Hope's toys strewn about.

"It's all right," he said. "It was a bit hairy for a stretch, but it turned out fine." He wanted to tell her about Hope's magic, but only after she'd had a chance to settle in and relax for a moment.

Emma tiptoed around the side of the couch and gingerly sat down next to them, gently stroking Hope's back and seeming to relish the feel of her baby's gentle, even breathing. Emma was wearing a summery sleeveless dress with a slightly flared skirt; black with a small, white and yellow floral print. She balanced this feminine look with knee high, black leather boots with medium-height heels, and she reached down now to unzip and remove them from her tired feet.

"If I forgot to tell you before, Sheriff," Killian said, admiring his wife, "you look lovely tonight."

Emma smirked and replied, "You didn't forget before, but thanks again."

"So how was dinner?"

"Great," she replied sincerely. "Captain Tynant was actually a little tense and stuffy at first, going on and on about his lineage of royal guardsman and how they had the best trained military in all the realms."

"Sounds delightful," Killian snorted.

"Yeah, well, eventually he caught onto the fact that we all really ARE great friends, and that we didn't bear him any ill will or want to change anything, just offer cooperation and support. It helped to have David there; Kristoff and Anna were thrilled to see him, and they all had some hilarious old stories to tell."

Killian chuckled softly, conscious of the sleeping babe on his chest. David in slightly tipsy, fully demonstrative storytelling mode was always quite entertaining.

"By the end of the night," Emma went on, "the Captain of the Guard was doing shot-skis with the other three while Elsa and I caught up on baby stuff, law enforcement, and governing. It was fun!"

"Shot-skis?" Killian asked, searching his brain for whether this was a term he should know.

Emma chuckled, "Next time we go to Arendelle, you'll have to try it. While I'm still breastfeeding, you have an automatic designated driver."

"So," she added, changing the subject. "Hope wouldn't stop crying? She was over-tired?"

"Yeah," Killian started to reply, "I thought she might be having a sleep regress-wait a minute."

He paused and looked at Emma, who couldn't hide her guilty expression.

"Mary Margaret called you," he stated with certainty. "Bloody Hell, why did I ever think she could keep a secret? I hope you didn't end your night early on our account!"

"I didn't!" Emma countered. Her expression softened, but she still held his gaze with confidence. "I was sorry to hear that Hope was giving you a rough time, but I knew that you would be able to handle it, and that you'd want to handle it on your own. You're amazing at this, and I knew everything would be fine!"

As it often did, Emma's unwavering faith in him stirred up emotions that before he'd met her, he hadn't even believed himself capable of feeling. He was, as always, humbled by her admiration. A small lump had formed in his throat, and he struggled a bit to reply around it, "Well, I'm glad you stayed. Hope and I did just fine. Better than fine, actually. Something rather extraordinary happened just before she fell asleep."

Emma tilted her head questioningly, and reached up again to caress Hope's little back as she waited for him to continue.

He proceeded to tell her about how Hope had generated a lingering spark of magic as he'd touched her forehead, and that creating the magic seemed to calm her and allow her to fall into a deep sleep.

"It was like she had this energy inside her," he tried to explain. "But she didn't know what it was or what to do with it, and it was upsetting her. And then once she found a way to harness it and share it with me, she relaxed. She was actually really happy all of a sudden! It was amazing. She's just...extraordinary."

Emma's looked slightly agape as she glanced from from him to their daughter, and her eyes sparkled a bit with tears.

"I know how she felt," she whispered finally. "It's confusing and frustrating to have this power but to not know what it is or what to do with it. I can't imagine being so new to the world and having to try to figure it out."

"Mmm," Killian agreed. "But maybe now that she's done it once, she won't be so scared and upset the next time. I think she's going to be okay. She was simply delighted by the shock on my face when she shared her sparkly magic."

Emma laughed a bit, but her brow was still furrowed as she then quietly said, "I just thought we'd have more time to prepare for this."

"It will be all right, love," Killian assured her. "We'll watch her closely, and you'll teach her. She has all the right people around her."

Emma nodded, her expression softening a bit. "You must be exhausted," she said. "Why don't I take her and put her down so that you can get ready for bed?"

He nodded and gingerly lifted the warm, snuggly baby away from his chest so that he could hand her to Emma. Emma cradled her close and whispered, "Hello, my love, you've had quite the night! Are you going to stay asleep now for Mummy? Good girl."

Emma smiled at Killian once more and headed toward the stairs. Killian peeled himself away from the smooshed throw pillows on which he'd been resting and moved to straighten up the mess in the living room and kitchen before heading upstairs.

Upstairs, he stopped in Hope's room to confirm that the girl was sleeping peacefully, sprawled out on her back. In his and Emma's room, he found his wife sitting on the edge of their bed wearing a (quite fetching) silken pajama shorts set and applying some flowery scented cream to her legs. She appeared to be deep in thought.

He quickly washed up and changed in the en suite bathroom, and then returned to settle next to Emma, who was now sitting up against the pillows, her long legs stretched out in front of her on top of the duvet. When he sat down, she moved to snuggle close to him, turning a bit onto her right side so that she could drape her left leg over his. She rested her head on his chest as he reached out, placed his left arm behind her shoulders, and pulled her as close as he could.

After a few minutes of silence, Emma said, "What will we do when she learns to poof herself from place to place? What if she's still a toddler, or a baby even?"

He pondered a moment then replied, "Does it work like that? Can anyone control it that much when they're that young?"

She shook her head against his chest and replied, "I don't know. I just worry that we might be in uncharted territory with her."

"Well, if we have to, we can have her wear one of those magic-cancelling bracelets, right? Hopefully, she'll just think it's fun jewelry."

"Right, or aWonder Woman bracelet" Emma replied.

"Even better."

"If we have to do it to keep her safe, we will," said Emma. "It just feels strange, the idea of restricting her when she has such a special gift."

Killian hummed in agreement, and they both sat quietly for a moment, enjoying the comforting feel of each other even as their minds swirled with worry and questions.

Finally, Killian said, "What I felt, with her magic. There was nothing strange or scary about it. It was just like...a little burst of love and light that she needed to share. I can't imagine her powers consist of much beyond that at this point."

"Right," Emma replied. "This we can handle, and we can just take each new development as it comes and deal with it."

"I do feel a bit guilty though," Killian admitted after another quiet moment.

"Why?" she asked, sitting up some to look at him with confusion.

"Well, you're her mother, you're the one with the lightest magic in all the realms." He paused, then added, "I feel like the first time she used her magic should have been with you. It's such a special thing that the two of you share."

Emma thought for a moment, then smiled at him lovingly.

"I'm not surprised at all that she showed it with you," she said. "It actually makes perfect sense to me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I can think of a few times in my life when I was having trouble finding or harnessing my magic, and the person who always managed to guide me, to inspire me to open a portal or light an ancient mystical flame just happened to be Captain Killian Jones. Why should it be any different with our daughter?"

The lump in his throat returned and tears pricked his eyes.

"I love you," he managed to say.

"I love you," she replied, leaning up to kiss him softly on the lips. She pulled back slightly and sat up a bit straighter next to him, then she reached up to caress his cheek with her thumb.

"So Captain," she said, "How tired are you? Because I have a feeling our kid's going to sleep for a bit after all that hard work, and we really should take advantage of this alone time."

He grinned at her and raised his eyebrow before responding, "Oh, I'm wide awake now."

"Good," she replied as she climbed into his lap.

The next morning around dawn, they awoke to cries from their apparently starving daughter, who then practically attacked Emma's breast as she settled them both into the rocking chair in Hope's room to nurse. When Emma had scrambled out of one strap of her silky tank top so that the infant could finally latch to eat, she got her own little taste of Hope's magic. When the little girl was happily suckling, she reached her right hand up to touch the exposed skin on Emma's chest just below her neck. It was like a little caress, but it was charged with happy, sparkly electricity that pleasantly tickled Emma's skin.

"Thank you, kid," Emma said softly. "Good morning to you, too!" She smiled as she rocked and fed their daughter, knowing that nothing that felt so suffused with love, so assuredly good, could hurt her little angel. She noticed Killian watching them with adoration from the doorway, and she grinned at him.

Oh, and later that day, Hope did indeed roll over for the first time.