There was no one in Storybrooke.
Cars sat empty, stores and streets vacant. The dry leaves on the trees rustled in the fragrant autumn air.
Emma was standing in the middle of Main Street, hands splayed protectively across her belly. Her red leather coat hung open. Long gone were the days when she could zip it.
She turned around yet again, still hoping that she would hear Henry's voice call out, telling her it was all a practical joke as everyone came out from wherever they were hiding. But there was nothing, just the sound of Killian's footsteps as he approached her in the late afternoon twilight.
"Anything?" she asked softly. Her voice carried unnaturally in the stillness.
"Not a soul to be found, love," he said, shaking his head. She bowed her head. Of course. She'd been too happy. Something had to come along and screw everything up. He seemed to know what she was thinking and opened his arms wordlessly. She stepped into them, taking a deep breath of his comforting scent.
A sudden jolt of pain lanced through her belly. Oh god, not now, she thought as she doubled over.
"Emma!"
She looked up at Killian, feeling stricken with panic. "The baby. I think it's time."
"Bloody hell!" He looked as freaked out as she was. No doctors, no hospital, no family, no friends. They were on their own.
"Yep."
"You can do it, Savior. One more push, love. I can see her head," said Killian.
Emma's water had broken before they had even made it home. The contractions had come fast and hard. This kid clearly wanted out. Another contraction knifed through her. Emma had forgotten how painful this childbirth thing was. She'd been counting on that epidural. She gritted her teeth and pushed again with all her might.
"She's got dark hair, Emma. That's it, keep going!"
One final bearing down and there was a sudden release as her daughter came into the world. Emma propped herself up wearily. Killian wrapped the crying baby in a blanket and handed her to Emma, who took a startled breath. Big sapphire eyes gazed up at her, round and trusting. A cap of silky dark hair crowned her tiny head. Her beautiful eyes, rimmed with long, dark lashes, slid closed as she nestled into sleep against Emma's breast, her delicate rosebud mouth slightly open. She was perfect. More than perfect, she was the most stunning thing Emma had ever seen.
When she'd given up Henry, she hadn't been able to bear holding him. She had been certain it would break her. Now, holding this precious little girl against her chest, she knew it would have. The welling emotion suddenly had her crying tears of pure joy and relief. Killian curled himself around them in the bed. He was watching the baby with an expression of baffled wonder. A tear slid down his cheek as his daughter wrapped a tiny hand around his finger. They gazed at each other a moment, in shock and happiness, and shared a tender kiss over their sleeping daughter's head.
Now, thought Emma, at least there were three residents of Storybrooke.
Three weeks after their daughter was born, and they still hadn't come up with a name for her. Emma was in love with this little girl, and nothing they tried seemed to come close to matching her. Killian had given up suggesting names and was content to call her "Moppet" for the time being. He'd taken to carrying her about the cottage, humming softly to her. Emma had had a feeling he would be a great father, but to see him with their daughter like this...she just melted at seeing him so besotted with her.
"Let's go into town, love. It'll do you good to get some fresh air."
"All right, all right. Keep your knickers on," teased Emma. She'd been happily lying around with her little one as much as possible, enjoying every moment. She knew it was early, but she thought their daughter already had a playful personality. She had a feeling she would be a charming handful when she was older, just like a certain pirate she knew.
They dressed and headed down to Main Street. Emma was still creeped out by the emptiness. The mysterious loss of Henry and Snow and David and little Neal had been weighing on her, tinging the joy of Moppet's birth with anxiety and sadness. They still had no idea where everyone went. How were they going to figure out what happened?
"Want to try Gold's shop? Maybe there's something there that can help us?" she suggested. They had already tried Regina's place, with no luck.
The front door to the shop was unlocked. The bell chimed cheerfully when they entered, making Emma jump. The shop was empty, as expected. A thin film of dust had begun to gather on all the eclectic objects.
Emma carried their little girl in her arms as they perused the shelves and cases. Nothing stuck out to her as being particularly interesting. They headed into the back, where they knew Rumple kept the more valuable, and dangerous, items.
"See anything you think could help us, love?"
"I don't have a clue what any of this stuff is. My knowledge of magic isn't much better than yours, Killian."
Emma paused by a tall apothecary case. Its glass shelves contained small baubles of varying descriptions. She held Moppet up a bit to look in. "What do you think, little one? Anything interesting in here?"
Killian smiled, coming over to them. "She's a brilliant girl, like her mother, but surely it's a bit early to rely on her to solve our conundrum?"
Emma was about to laugh when the baby suddenly swung her chubby arm up toward the case, and not in a way that appeared accidental.
Killian shared a look with Emma.
"Is it just me, love, or is our daughter pointing at that small wooden box there?"
"Um...yeah. She's staring at it too, I think. Okay, that's weird. We're getting out of here."
"Post haste," agreed Killian. They made for the door but stopped when the baby began wailing. Emma turned back to the case, and the baby quieted.
They tried again to make for the door with the same results.
Reluctantly, they turned and stood again in front of the cabinet. The baby once more pointed her teensy fingers at the small wooden box.
Killian shrugged, and carefully removed it from its resting place, leaving a square of dust-free space on the glass shelf. It was about the size of a child's puzzle block. He balanced it on the palm of his hand as he held it up to inspection in the light. It was an oiled wooden cube, with swirled etchings of some kind on each side face.
"What is it?" asked Emma warily.
"Don't know. It doesn't appear to open. There are a few symbols carved on the sides. One looks like a crescent moon and this one like the sun, perhaps."
Hesitantly, he held it out toward the baby. Moppet gurgled with delight and reached toward it. Killian pulled it away instantly, to Emma's relief. The infant howled and cried. Killian slowly extended the cube back toward her, calming her immediately.
"Killian-" warned Emma. Suddenly the cube leapt off Killian's palm and hovered, spinning, in midair inches from Moppet's face. Emma was frozen in shock. The baby reached up her chubby little hands before they could make a move and grasped the block. Nothing whatsoever happened. Had Moppet done that herself? Maybe Yemaja had been right about her being powerful.
Emma was holding her breath. Killian reached over slowly, intending to take the block, when suddenly the top of it unfolded as though it were made of origami paper. The box began to deconstruct itself, flattening and expanding as they watched in amazement. When the movement finally ceased, the box was gone, leaving in its stead a thin sheaf of wood with carved patterns on its face. Emma plucked it from her daughter's tiny grasp and handed it quickly to Killian.
"What the hell is that thing?"
Killian held it up to the light, looking puzzled.
"It appears to be a map. In fact, I recognize this portion of it here," he said, pointing to a small area in the right hand corner. "The Enchanted Forest."
They shared a loaded glance.
"It's a huge map. What are the other places?"
"I thought I'd sailed every corner of the realm, and then some," he said, sounding surprised. "But according to this, the realm extends much further than anyone ever guessed. Only a third of this map's area is known to me, or anyone else as far as I'm aware."
"What does that say there, on the upper right hand corner?"
"It's a name, I believe. Whether of a person or place is unclear. It's etched in the center of a compass rose, but instead of reading east or west, it has symbols of the sun and the moon."
"What's the name?"
Killian lowered the map and looked at their tiny daughter, who was staring fixedly at it.
"Moriah."
The baby gurgled and her whole body squirmed with apparent delight.
"Moriah," whispered Emma. It sounded...oddly perfect.
"Emma..."
"Yeah?"
"I think our daughter just found her own name."
