I hope that everyone is enjoying this story, especially my CS SS – thedarkoneswan. Have a great week people!

The candy seemed to be a salve to the child, her defenses coming down somewhat as she popped it into her mouth and revealed that she was four years old, her name was Hannah, and she wanted a cat. Emma wasn't sure what to do with that last piece of information, but she tucked it away as she and Archie attempted to extract a bit more information such as her parents' names or where they were headed that day. All she would say to that question was, "the home," which the trio each interpreted differently.

"You're a very brave lass," Killian told her when she began to calmly tell them of the accident that had claimed the lives of the other passengers.

"The car was upside down and I fell," she said quite matter of factly. Her voice was quiet and remained quite flat as she described loosening her the restraints of her seat and landing on what was the interior of the car's roof. At her age and limited vocabulary, the story was not easy to follow and was littered with divergence from the topic. Archie expertly directed her back with questions and Emma managed to interpret a few times to both her and Killian's surprise.

Realizing that most of the information had been gleaned from that line of questions, Archie switched tactics and asked Hannah how her day had begun. Emma didn't hear the answer as her father's footsteps arrived and he waved her into the hallway. Killian preceded her, keeping his hook just out of sight of the child.

"You found something," Emma said more than asked her father.

"The car was registered to the state of Maine's Child Services Division," David said, pausing to let Emma's mind catch up with this development. "The coroner found identification on them. Best we can tell, she's a cop out of Bangor and he's a social worker with the state."

Emma stepped backward as if her father had punched her, realizing the gravity and familiarity of the situation.

"I'm not following, mate," Killian said, casting a worried glance in Emma's direction before turning his attention back to David. His handless arm wound around her waist, his hook resting at her hip.

"It looks like the child may be in foster care, or was until this morning. There was paperwork in the woman's bag about removing her from the care of some family in Bangor. Something about concerns of abuse and suspicions of fraud."

"On Thanksgiving?" Emma asked, spitting out the holiday because she knew that meant the situation was serious. Whatever was happening in that home meant that Hannah's life and wellbeing had been in danger. These officials had taken time on their holiday to take her to... Emma spun on the soles of her boots toward Killian, looking over his shoulder at the narrow window on the door to the room. Hannah was still sitting there, her hair now pulled back in a messy pony tail that one of the nurses had done earlier during a test. It made sense now. When Hannah had said she was going to the home, she hadn't meant her own home where there would be safety, a bed, toys, and doting parents. No, the child had meant she was going to the group home in the next town over.

She hurriedly explained that knowledge to her father, who agreed that it made sense to him too. His large hand grasped around her shoulder and he took a step toward the door. "This is probably tough on you," he acknowledged. "I can take her over to the group home that the nuns or fairies or whatever have been running. They've still got several of the lost boys over there. We can make some calls tomorrow about getting her back into the state's system." He shuffled his feet a few steps before she called out after him.

"No," she said, breaking the silence that had fallen. "That's no place for her. She's for, Dad. The boys there at the home are teenagers now and have been alive for centuries in some cases. She'd be the only girl and far younger than any of them. She can come home with us."

***HOHOHO***

Killian followed Archie over to the table in the corner of the room where he signed his name to the top of a stack of documents. "We'll see what we can do after the weekend," Archie promised, tugging on the arm of his glasses nervously. "Maybe we can find out where he family is and why she was in the system in the first place."

Through the corner of his eye, Killian caught a glimpse of Emma bundling Hannah up in the coat that had been Roland's. It was a simple brown material with a fleece lining that the boy had outgrown last year. She had also changed her into a soft pair of jeans and a sweatshirt with some cartoon character on it. Killian wasn't sure who the character was supposed to be, but he reckoned that Hannah did, as she squealed joyfully before clamping her hand over her mouth when she saw it.

Before re-entering the room Killian had unfastened his hook and hid it in the bag of items he had carried. A missing hand might be a bit frightening for her, but a hook would be harder to explain. "Ready to go?" he asked Emma as he saw that she was watching the girl with a worried expression.

She looked up from her study with a relieved smile. "I believe we are." Crouching down next to the bed, Emma made sure she was on eye level with the little girl. "Hannah," she said, waiting for the girl to acknowledge her. "Killian and I thought you might like to stay with us tonight."

The girl processed this idea, offering no sign of her acceptance or rejection. While she wasn't sucking her thumb, a sign that Archie said was one of regression, she was systematically plucking at the buttons on her newly acquired jacket. Emma allowed this movement for a minute before she covered the smaller hands with her own.

"Tomorrow we can go shopping for a new outfit for you. You can pick out anything you like."

This idea at least interested the girl who looked up at them with more interest. "Anything?"

Killian knew that Emma was seeing something of herself in the child, recognizing the abandonment and confusion that she must have felt when the Swan family had sent her back into the system at a similar age. He could feel his own rage at whoever had been tasked with the girl's care, sure that Emma's was even more. "Aye," he spoke up, crossing the room in three steps to stand next to the bed. "And perhaps a trinket or toy too?"

Emma again appeared relieved, straightening up to standing. She opened her arms out to the child, stating that she could walk or Emma would gladly carry her. Hannah appeared torn by that question, wavering before she stood on the hospital bed and gingerly walked into Emma's embrace. The sheriff was careful not to squeeze too tightly, hoisting her up on her right side and gesturing to Killian to grab the bag.

"I have called your mother, Swan," he said, using his foot and elbow to hold the door open for them. "She's warming up some dinner for us so that you may have your Thanksgiving feast of more than just a sandwich."

Emma stopped cold, her blonde hair flying as she whipped around to face Killian. He could not help but notice the way that her golden mane mingled with the similarly shaded blonde curls of the child in her arms. "Oh crap," she said, biting back the word she was thinking. "We can't go back there with everyone…it'll be too much for her."

"Already handled," he explained. "Your father spoke to your mother. Regina and Robin took off a bit ago. Granny opened up the diner for all the stragglers. It'll just be us with your parents, Neal, and Henry."

That still seemed like a large crowd, but Emma was grateful not to have to explain all of the guests to a child who seemed on the verge of shutting down with each new entry into her life. She smiled a tight but grateful expression. "You're brilliant," she complimented in a tongue and cheek way that mimicked his own style. He couldn't help but guffaw at her attempt once again to copy his accent and make it her own.

Archie called out assurances that he was just a phone call away, adding quickly that some of the nurses had dug around in the supply closet to get a safety seat for Hannah and that her father had managed with Regina's help to get the familiar yellow car there to the visitor lot for them. It was then that Killian worried Hannah might have fears of riding in a car after her ordeal, but she took it in stride until she realized that Emma was not going to sit back there with her. Small fists clutching at Emma's sweater, the blonde sheriff explained that she had to drive, claiming that Killian was horrible at that sort of thing.

"I could sit in the back with her," he hesitantly offered, expecting the child to completely balk at the mere suggestion. However, Hannah seemed almost relieved and he found himself sitting sideways with his ear near his shoulder in the cramped space. What he could talk to the child about, he wasn't sure. However, Emma was only inches away from him and on more than a few occurrences met his gaze in the rearview mirror.

The ride itself was uneventful and thankfully Mary Margaret and the rest of Emma's family restrained themselves from darting out of the stately house in greeting. Still, Killian saw the curtains pull back and then shut just as quickly as if someone had chastised them for seeming too eager and overwhelming.

The bag was heavy with the child's torn and dirty clothes, a few items that they had not used, paperwork, more candy, and Killian wasn't sure what else. Emma had unfastened the child from the seat like a pro, waving off his admiration for the effort with a quick statement that she had watched her parents do it with their son. Hannah eagerly went back to the woman's embrace and they quickly found themselves at the front door where Emma almost snorted out a laugh. "I didn't imagine it playing out this way," she said, reaching for the doorknob with her free hand.

"Imagine what?" the pirate answered in confusion.

"Us bringing home a child from the hospital like this," she clarified, the satire of the situation not lost on her.

It took him a moment, the culture and age difference between them again rearing its head. Then the meaning dawned on him. "I didn't realize you had imagined any such scenario," he said with a bite of his own sarcasm. The future, in whatever form, still seemed quite nebulous between them and without too many boundaries. It had taken long enough to get to the point of sharing the same home and bed, but discussions of marriage, children, and anything more lasting were avoided with diligence.

Emma only shook her head, managing to place her cheek against the crown of Hannah's head for a brief moment. Even as their eyes adjusted from the outside to the inside, they could both tell that Mary Margaret was on the verge of needing physical restraint from rushing toward them. The pixie haired woman rose to her toes and then down again, a move she repeated several times. Henry was more still, but his smile reached far across his face as he watched the girl do something so simple and push a puffy cheek against Emma's shoulder.

"Hannah," Emma said, calling the girl's attention. "I want you to meet everyone."

David took the lead in greeting the child, knowing that while Emma had been more prominent that she probably at least recognized him. Like his daughter, he ignored the owlish eyes that seemed confused by this man talking to her, welcoming her to Storybrooke and asking if she was hungry. When she didn't immediately answer him, he acted as though she had and was directing everyone to get things on the table and ready to go.

Hannah said little during the meal, taking fast but small bites of the food that had been rewarmed and heated so that the family could share a holiday meal together. It didn't take much spying to realize that her favorite was the baked macaroni and cheese. Even while she left some of the items untouched on her plate, she had finished the cheesy pasta dish first and was already downing a second helping that Emma had scooped onto her plate.

The conversation around the table was light, as each of the adults in turn took a look at Hannah, darting their eyes away before she looked up. When Killian realized just how much she liked the macaroni, he would covertly place forkfuls of it on her plate and then wink saucily when she tilted her head to either question or thank him.

Mary Margaret, always the planner, began to make lists for Emma about what would be needed. "I think Modern Fashions will have a few things. You'll need play clothes, pajamas, some things for school. Mrs. Potts has an opening in her preschool class, same one as Roland. That would probably be good for her to have some structure. Oh maybe sign her up for ballet class. There is something so adorable about a little girl in a tutu and tights."

Emma looked at the half eaten plate of food and back to her mother. "We don't know if this is a permanent thing yet or not. There might be complications."

The brunette woman's face fell, realizing perhaps for the first time that this was not so cut and dry. Intermingled with the memories of her own childhood were those of her cursed life of 28 years in Storybrooke. Some were real and others figments of the magic that had brought them there. Somewhere in that was the memory of helping a stray puppy and finding out days later that she belonged to someone else. That had seemed such a hard lesson to learn. "Well a few things anyway," she told her daughter. "Might as well make things more comfortable."

David patted his wife's hand, knowing that she was already considering ways to help the child settle into life there. "Maybe Hook…err…Killian and I can set up that room at the end of the hall for her. It'll be close enough you can hear her in the middle of the night. And it'll be comfortable for her too."

"Aye," Killian piped up, noting the way that Hannah scooted closer to Emma as her head began to droop. "I think that would be a splendid idea. I suppose we best get to it given the state of the lass."

Emma nodded her approval before standing and lifting the girl from the table. "I'll take her in the other room. Can you…"

Henry and Snow quickly jumped into action to clear the table with Killian and David hurrying up the stairs toward the bedroom they thought would work. From the couch where Emma sat with the sleeping Hannah, she could hear her mother humming Christmas tunes and the occasional thuds and scrapes upstairs. Once free of his duties from Mary Margaret, Henry joined the two men upstairs, apparently running back and forth between the makeshift room for Hannah and his own bedroom.

"She seems to be comfortable with you," Mary Margaret said in a hushed tone, extracting the throw that Emma had curled up under the night before and placing it over her daughter's shoulders before she sat down in chair facing her.

"I don't know that it is comfort as much as she's just tired," Emma said, her hand lightly trailing over the errant curls that have escaped the haphazard ponytail. "She's so young to have to deal with all this."

Her mother bit her lip, blinking a bit faster. "You went through this type of thing didn't you?" she asked. It was a blunt question, but even the teacher wasn't sure how to best phrase it. "When you were younger?"

"Something like this," Emma said without looking up. "I don't think now is the time to talk about it though."

Thankfully David and Killian's loud footsteps on the stairs indicated that they were done with their tasks. Trampling into to the living room, David looked tenderly at his daughter and Hannah, sighing in conjunction with the child's swipe her at her nose as she slept with her lips parted and her head cradled by her other hand on Emma's lap. He didn't say anything, leaning down and kissing Emma's cheek and then signaling to his wife that they should go.

"Call us later," Mary Margaret mouthed, holding a hand up to her ear like a phone.

Killian walked them to the door, receiving a hug from the teacher and a sympathetic look from David before he returned to Emma and Hannah there on the couch. Looking a bit conflicted, he moved to sit in the chair that the brunette had vacated. However, Emma gestured with her chin for him to join her there on her left side as the child curled to her right. "I hope the room is satisfactory for her," he said in his quietest tone. His breath was warm against the side of her face, blowing back some of the strands of hair that framed it. "I must admit I'm not quite sure what a young lass might like for accommodations."

The bewildered look on the pirate's face was a bit much for Emma, who stifled her laugh. "I don't know either. I didn't really have my own decorated room or toys unless I had to share them. But I'm sure what you guys did will work fine."

Looking at the side table where the brown envelope of papers that they had signed with Archie sat, Killian ran his hand along his hairline near his ear. "I suppose you might know best. What will happen to her? Will these people Archie spoke about find her another home?"

Her lip bore the indentation from where her teeth had chewed nervously. She simply and quietly explained the process as she knew it, flinching at words like group homes and temporary shelter. "It's not an easy life for anyone."

"But there must be people who would want a beautiful lass like her as a daughter," Killian protested. "Didn't you say there were couples that came to those homes in search of such?"

The dwindling fire in the fireplace crackled and popped as Emma's green eyes filled with unshed tears. "Possible," she clarified, "but the older she gets the less likely such a situation becomes." The child against her shifted and curled the hand under her cheek more like a cradle. Emma and Killian both watched her a bit breathlessly, taking in the sight of her there and peaceful.

"She looks like you, Swan," he said almost wistfully. "I could see you being just as precious as a wee lass."

Emma's smile was sad as she lifted her eyes toward him. "I'm sorry I didn't ask if it was okay to bring her back here," she said. "I didn't mean to make that choice without you."

"I would have spoken out about it if I'd seen a problem, love," Killian said, brushing his cheek along hers, as he looked down at the child. "The child is need of shelter and we have that to give. So why not?"

Emma could think of hundreds of reasons why not, many of which circled around the ideas of logistics. Plus there were also concerns over her mental state and Killian's after all they had been through in Camelot and the Underworld. It seemed unfair to even consider adding more to their lives at that point.

***HOHOHO***

Emma left the door to the room Hannah was occupying open a crack as she crept into the hallway to find her son supporting a cardboard box in his hands. "Grandma brought it. Some Christmas decorations and whatnot. I thought we might put them out tomorrow. Hannah might enjoy doing that. I know I did when I was a kid."

She tried not to laugh or cry at the idea that the little boy who had wound up on her doorstep in Boston no longer considered himself a child. He stood nearly as tall as her and his voice was deeper than the childlike cadence of his begging her to end the original curse that befallen the citizens of Storybrooke. She was touched that he was taking such an interest in Hannah, already donating a shirt too small for him as a nightgown for her. He'd even dug out a teddy bear that had been relegated to a shelf in his room, placing it on the chair next to the child's bed in case she might want to hold it.

"Sounds like a nice idea," Emma agreed, touching his arm lightly. "We'll go through the box and maybe buy a few more things to add to it."

Henry's smile was very much like his fathers, his eyes squinting as his lips spread over his teeth. "You know, mom, I've always wanted a little brother or sister."

The blonde's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Henry this isn't…it's just temporary. We aren't even thinking about…"

"I know," he said, lifting his shoulders awkwardly with the box still balanced on his forearms. "Just putting it out there. It is great to have this house and all, but it gets kind of lonely here. When I'm at mom's there is her, and Robin, and Roland, and the baby."

"So you sort of already have a brother and a sister," Emma pointed out, not telling him that a desire to have a sibling was far from a strong reason to adopt a child. She was also not about to discuss with him her own feelings of inadequacy when it came to motherhood.

"Couldn't hurt to have another," he said casually. "And think of it this way, you get to avoid the diapers and the bottles. She's already a kid."

***HOHOHO***

"Everything settled?" Killian asked as Emma dropped back against the pillow, an arm thrown over her forehead to shield her eyes. Their bedroom in the house was cavernous and Emma had said she might never fight enough lamps to adequately light the dark room. However, as bedtime neared, Killian had left only one lamp burning on the bedside table. His back was lounged against the padded headboard of their bed and the latest edition of the Storybrooke Daily Mirror was across his lap.

A voracious reader, Killian was often up late with a novel or some other book that Belle had recommended for him. When they had moved his stuff out of Granny's, the number of books outweighed most of his other personal items by half. Still it was a bit of a shock to see him staring at the filmy newsprint. "She's asleep and I left the door open a bit so we can hear her if there's a problem." She rolled onto her side, folding the pillow in half to give her a bit of height. "I thought you couldn't stand newspapers."

"Aye," he agreed, his handless arm holding the pages in place so his other hand could tilt the paper and show her. "I was reading about some of these items for sale in the stores about town. Seems that many of them have toys and such for children at this time of year."

Emma nearly giggled at the perplexed way he was scouring the Black Friday ads. "You want to buy her a toy?" she asked, clarifying that was on his mind. However, the collage of pink and feminine items on the page was clue enough.

"The lass has had a hard day," he said thoughtfully. "Surely a toy would brighten her smile."

"You don't have to do this, you know," Emma broached carefully. "I can take her for some new clothes and necessities. It's not mandatory she have dolls and whatnot. In fact, she probably will lose most of them at the group home the moment she arrives. People in those places have very little concept of personal belongings."

Laying the pages back across his lap, Killian slid a little lower in the bed. "Perhaps we could consider something a bit more…more permanent? We have the room, love. We could surely care for a child with the proper help and encouragement. Your mother would likely be eager to help, as would your father and half the town."

"Have you been talking to Henry?" she asked. "This isn't the type of thing you decide on a whim. And there are processes, forms, tests, classes, and all that. It isn't that easy. We can't just say we'll keep her like a kitten we found wandering around. She's a child. She needs parents who would love her and care for her."

"And you don't think…"

"This isn't about whether we are right for the job," Emma protested by interruption. "It's just that we aren't ready. We just got back. You were dead, Killian. I lost you. What if something happened again? I just don't think I'm ready to do this. It's a big responsibility."

"I know, love," he said, tossing aside the paper. "I just thought you might wish to do this." He reached over to turn off the lamp and then sank fully under the quilted covers, his arm pulling around her waist so that his hand rested just at the small of her back. "She's a lost girl. Just like you were. Abandoned as we both were. I just thought…"

Emma shut her eyes tightly to ward off the emotions that were spinning inside her. "We'll talk about it later," she murmured, placing her fingers over his lips. He placed a soft kiss to them before dropping his mouth to hers, the comfortable quiet of the night overtaking the glaring realities of day.