Emma finished rinsing the last dish, slipping it carefully into Killian's waiting hand. He always insisted on helping with everything around the house—tasks big and small— and even in the 5 years they'd been married she still found herself surprised at just how much he could do with a wooden extremity. Drying dishes was only the beginning of his long list of talents.

(And Emma couldn't deny that Captain freaking Hook helping her with the chores was extremely hot— dark eyes focused, jaw set, face handsomely concentrated on the job at hand).

He caught her staring as he finished with the plate, eyes lighting right up, lips flitting into a gentle smirk.

"Enjoying the view, darling?" he asked, swaying flirtatiously closer to her.

"Don't flatter yourself," she rolled her eyes, and touched an imaginary spot on the corner of his lips, "You had chocolate… right there."

"Mmm. Chocolate, eh?" he asked, smirk widening.

She nodded once, wishing those eyes weren't so distracting, seeing right through her.

"I had vanilla ice cream, my love," he finally answered, eyes twinkling, and she groaned at her mistake momentarily, before he caught her lips in a gentle kiss.

"Daddyyyyy!"

There was a pattering of small feet and Killian drifted away from her, bending to reach out as the blur of blonde curls approached, scooping her up against him. Their little girl immediately curled against him.

"Leia? What is it, love?" he asked, eyes immediately full of a concern that had frequented his expressions since Emma had first become pregnant.

Emma stepped slightly forward to touch her back as she raised her teary blue eyes up to look between them, and her heart pattered.

"There was a noise! In the windows, I'm sure of it," she cried, little voice breaking off into tears.

Relief immediately filled Emma, and she saw it in Killian's eyes as well. He shifted her slightly— she was four, getting a little old to be held— but when it came to his girls Killian had never had an ounce of willpower against them.

"A noise, eh? Shall we go investigate it then?" he offered, meeting her eyes— her eyes that might as well have been his own, capable of mimicking mischievous glances identical to her father's.

Leia glanced uneasily at Emma, who nodded encouragingly.

"Mummy will come?" she asked him timidly, looking again between the two of them, eyes slightly narrowed as she gauged their responses.

"We both will," Emma promised, crossing her heart. The little girl finally nodded hesitantly, and wiggled herself out of Killian's arms, instead taking his hand (the wooden one—their daughter had never found anything about her fathers lack of a hand abnormal, something Emma would be forever grateful for, as she couldn't even imagine how it would hurt him) and ducking behind him, pressing her other hand to the small of his back to lead him forward. Glancing at Emma he swallowed a chuckle and led the way.

This was usual, since Henry had been away at college. Leia loved her brother dearly— when he wasn't around to check for monsters under the bed she worked herself into a panic. Something as little as a branch knocking at the window could have her up all night long.

When they reached her room Killian flicked the lights on and crossed straight to the window. It was cracked open, as the house had been stuffy from the cooking and the cool autumn air was refreshing. Leia hung back by Emma, still unsure.

Killian opened the window the rest of the way, peering out, leaning out slightly.

"Killian," Emma warned softly, not so much because she thought he'd fall out but more at the possibility. He immediately leaned back, taking one last look about before glancing at Leia.

"There's nothing but a tree out here, princess. Perhaps the branch was scraping?"

The little girl added it up a moment, running a little hand through her sleep-matted curls and then twisting the end on her finger, a habit she'd recently picked up.

"Perhaps," she finally mimicked, and it was one of those things that absolutely tore at Emma's heart, their child picking up on her father's abnormal speaking habits. She reached down to squeeze her shoulder gently.

"Do you want to take a look, sweetheart?" she offered gently. It seemed that parenting came so easily to Killian, he didn't even have to try. For her, it was all trial and error. She never knew if what she was doing was right or not. But Killian nodded, holding a hand to Leia and she felt a little flutter of pride for saying the right thing.

After Leia had studied the view and was finally content, she curled into her bed.

"Do you want this left open, darling?" Killian asked gently as Emma switched off the lights. Quiet breathing was the only response, and he chuckled.

"Just leave it a crack," Emma said as she crossed to her bed, pulling the sheets up around her still figure and kissing her forehead.

"Goodnight, Leia," she whispered, and stepped back to let Killian kiss her.

He looked at their daughter with even more adoration and reverence than he looked at even her with, and it made her fall deeper in love with him every day.

"Is there still some, er, chocolate, on my face, darling?" he asked the moment they left her room, eyes glistening, and Emma's cheeks burned.

"Maybe," she answered sheepishly, and this time she tugged him down to her lips.

She woke up to a scream. It was still dark— but the dusty dark that came just as dawn was creeping in. It took her a precious moment to register the noise, and by the time she was falling over herself to get up Killian was already halfway to the door, hook notably absent from it's usually permanent position on the bedside table.

Her heart was pounding so hard that she felt it all the way in her head, tripping over sheets as she flew towards their door, already turning down the hall, nearly at Killian's heels.

All of their family portraits down the hallway were smashed and askew— a few fallen from their place on the wall to the floor. Glass from the frames littered the hall and tore Emma's feet but she hardly noticed, and hardly cared.

Her heart beat unsteadily when Killian turned into her room ahead of her, cursing.

When Emma turned in behind him, her heart stopped beating.

The room was turned upside down. Toys scattered, sheets torn from the bed, mirror cracked and clothes strewn about. The window was wide open, a chilling breeze blowing the curtains out.

And Leia was gone.

Killian was at the window, the window she'd told him to leave open, looking out, yelling her name. Emma found herself tearing through the sheets, under toys… but as she turned for the closet something caught her eye, sending a shocking chill down her spine and freezing her heart.

"Killian," she called, voice far too soft to be heard above his yells, more frantic by the moment, and she suddenly couldn't breath. "Killian!" she repeated, startling herself with her tone and volume.

There was a knife stuck in the wall. A terrifyingly familiar dagger. And pinned beneath it was a note.

She pulled it free, struggling to read it through the shaking of her hand until Killian came up beside her, wrapping his own hand around hers and somehow, someway, managing to hold them steady.

Dear Hook~
Your presence is
required at the
request of
your child.

Kindest personal regards,
Peter Pan

Emma read the note over and over again, until Killian's hand was shaking as much as her own and her eyes were glossed over and just bringing air to her lungs felt like a struggle.

Peter Pan.

"We need a ship," was all Killian finally whispered hoarsely.