She wakes when the bedroom door creaks open, her mother's instincts kicking in at even the smallest sound from her son. She used to be impossible to wake, but since Liam was born she rises at every noise. Killian's voice croaks with that sleep ridden murmur that she loves.
"Liam? What's wrong?"
He doesn't respond straight way; the patter of tiny footsteps echoes on the wooden floor of their room, pausing when they reach the bed. She cannot see her son; he has gone to his father's side of the bed and she can only hear the hum that their soft conversation makes. A moment later the bed shifts under the new weight of the four-year-old who has just clambered onto the bed with his parents. A cold foot is jabbed into her stomach as Liam finds a comfortable position between his parents; a tiny hand pulls her closer, his back settling against her chest and his feet tucked against Killian's. Liam sighs, content to be surrounded in the warmth of his parents. Emma's eyes meet Killian's across their son's head.
"What was wrong?" She asks with a whisper, pressing a kiss against Liam's unruly dark hair (she can't help but think he needs a haircut soon).
"He was worried about tomorrow."
Emma couldn't help but pull her baby closer, she too was worried about tomorrow. Tomorrow Liam would go to school for the first time and she would have to watch him go. She had gotten so used to their routine, she had never really had a routine before Killian and Liam came along. There was something about waking up every morning with the sun peeking through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room as Killian carefully slipped out of bed. He would always place a light kiss on her forehead, chuckling at her grouchy frown at being woken so early. (Sometimes his daily kiss would turn into something else and she would manage to pull him back under the covers. Then he would head of to work, leaving a steaming cup of coffee next to the bed, he would always make it too hot so that it would be the right temperature when she finally woke up properly. Sometimes Liam would crawl into the now half empty bed to snuggle with his mother until they were both finally ready to start their day. Emma isn't ready to let go of that quite yet, but she has to.
With the memories of the past four glorious years Emma drifts off into a dreamless sleep, only slightly disturbed by the kicking four-year-old also occupying the bed. She had missed all of this with Henry, and though Liam wasn't a do-over for motherhood, there is something fulfilling about doing all the things she had never had the chance to do with the son she was forced to give away. Finally, she had both her sons and a man she loved at her side to care for them with her. Even the few villains that still came to town every other month didn't even bother her as much now that she isn't so alone and self-induced isolation isn't such a problem anymore.
The next morning is hard – she may let a tear or two escape as Liam bounds into the school without so much as a look back at his parents - but as Killian kisses her on the cheek after walking her to the station on his way to the docks she realises that she can do this. Hey, she has faced dragons and monster, she can let her little boy grow up (just not too fast!).