The fire in the large fireplace had waned to crackling embers and the light of a lantern in the corner of the room cast very little light as Emma followed Red into the room. The dark haired woman busied herself with a few tasks as Emma paid attention to the young boy there in front of her. Leo looked up from the straw stuffed mattress with their father's blue eyes at his older sister, his sandy colored hair tousled from his active day. "You came back!"

Emma knelt beside him, her muscles screaming in agony at the sharp movements, but she could barely resist his arms waving at her. "You seem surprised," she said, scooping him into a hug. "I would never leave you for long."

"I didn't know," he said solemnly, cheek to her chest as she rocked him momentarily. "I missed you a lot."

"And I missed you too," she said. "But remember what mama said. We have to be a help to Granny and Aunt Red. I went to help Granny today." She pulled back from him to see the most earnest expression on his face. "I hope you were good for Aunt Red while I was gone."

"I can help too," he promised her. And he continued to come up with ways he could help until sleep overtook his tired and small form. Emma stayed there beside him, soaking in the sight of him.

"So Killian is it?" Red said as Emma backed away from her brother and made her way to the table. The woman had set out two cups of tea. For as long as Emma could remember, Red had been the fun aunt who let her dress up in her clothing and snuck her presents against her parents' wishes. But there in the low light of the room with the tea suspended in midair, Red looked very much like Emma's mother. There were so many times when Emma was growing up that her mother had sat in just such a way and talked to her about the future and expectations.

Unable to think of a way out of the conversation, Emma took the seat across from her. "He saw how tired I was and offered me a way back here," she said quietly.

There a hint of amusement as Red sipped her tea, pausing to see if Emma would further incriminate herself in the silence. "How did you meet him?"

Emma explained about the sudden rain storm and the way he had helped her with the tasks at Granny's, her voice trembling over the words he had called her like beautiful and brilliant. "He seems quite nice," she said, knowing that the description was actually very weak. "And he does such nice things for me even without knowing who I really am."

The dark haired woman considered that for a moment, her lips resting on the rim of the cup. Pulling it back, she spoke very softly. "You truly aren't telling people who you are?"

"It was your idea," Emma reminded her. "People are more accepting or at least more honest about what they think of me without the titles and the formality." That was clearly true beyond Killian, she thought to herself, remembering the unimpressed retorts from Lily.

"You are a princess, the daughter of a king and queen. It's not something you can hide when it is a part of you like this. I didn't want for you to suffer the pangs of public opinion, but to lie about your identity. Well, it's not a good idea."

"I'm not sure I know the difference you are meaning," Emma said honestly.

Red smiled and then set the cup down in front of her with deliberate slowness. "Did your mother ever tell you about Peter?" she asked, not seeming to acknowledge the younger woman's confession. "I was a little younger than you are now when I first met him. He was a wonderful man, so thoughtful, so kind, and so ambitious, but for whatever reason he loved me."

There was no doubt that Emma had wondered why her mother's dearest friend had never married. She was a beautiful woman and clearly the type of woman that men dreamed of being with, but still she lived alone with her grandmother. She was strong and beautiful, hardly the type you would feel sorry for, but Emma wondered why no man had caught her attention. "Where is he?"

"My grandmother was not very approving of him," she explained, her voice more emotional with the memory. "Called him a wastrel. She forbid me to see him." Lifting her fingers to her lips she delicately touched them as though she could still feel his kiss.

"And you listened to her?" Emma asked. Even when Baelfire had been at his most ardent, her parents had not forbidden her from seeing him. She was not sure what she would have done had they done such a thing. Yes, they had expressed disappointment and displeasure in her choice of a suitor to encourage, but they had been clear that it was her choice and not theirs.

"No," she said with a shaky laugh. "We thought we were being sly, sneaking about, his visiting me at my window. But even your mother could see the way we would look at each other. We were making plans and then…" She let her voice drift, a sadness that Emma had never really seen before was palpable in her eyes as she again sipped from the tea.

"What happened, Red?"

"I lost him," she said, rolling her lips back into her mouth and looking skyward for a moment. "That's not quite right. You see, Granny didn't want me to be with him or anyone. She knew about my ability to change and just how dangerous that could be. I hurt him, Emma. I killed him."

Emma's eyes grew wide with that revelation. She had known for a while about the woman's other side, but there was a difference between hearing of the potential and hearing the result. There was no fear from Emma as she looked upon her mother's friend, but there was a certain caution. "I'm so sorry," she said, as if she was offering a condolence for something that just happened. The woman's sad smile spoke to her in a way she didn't quite understand.

"I didn't tell you that to garner your sorrow," Red mused. "I know the situation isn't the same, but I wasn't honest with Peter about who I am because I didn't know myself. And it cost Peter his life. While your secrets are not that dramatic…"

Emma flinched, knowing with certainty that her parents had not shared everything with the woman before her. "I understand," she said, interrupting. "I do understand."

***AAA***

Killian made it back to the inn before most of his crew had departed for the ship or to the rooms with a woman they had met and seduced with usually minimal effort. He greeted each of them, listening to the concerns that they were taking too long there in town what with the crown's edict against pirating. "Playing with fire," one of the lesser men said while chugging down rum as if it were water. "We'll end up in the brig, all of us."

Though the captain's eyes rolled with the exaggeration in the man's voice and words, he wasn't completely disagreeing. King David of Mist Haven had a distinct and concentrated dislike for pirates, especially those that threatened the beautiful and peaceful coast of his kingdom. Kings before him had issued proclamations and edicts before, but from the looks of it, the King had dedicated a portion of his navy to bringing the pirates around the area to justice. Killian had always skirted the law with dexterous maneuvers, but staying put in one spot was not the wisest of moves.

The more his men drank the more braggadocios they became, telling tales of sea monsters and mermaids, as well as whole ships they had conquered single handedly if their stories were to be believed. Usually Killian was right there with them, bragging and swapping tales with them, but he sat quietly and heard only Emma's words tumbling in his head. He had known that he could not hide the lack of his hand with her. She was neither blind nor stupid, but her brazen way of telling him that she had noticed was not just the idea of being found out. No, it was her acceptance that had warmed his heart and given a lightness to him the whole ride back to the tiny village. She had not been repulsed nor pitying in her response. And it made him all the more intrigued by her.

"Captain," Smee said, once again interrupting. "I have news to report."

"As you always do," Killian answered, wondering how it was that this man had elected to become a pirate rather than some sort of town crier for his penchant for dramatic declarations. "On with it."

"The Dark One," the shorter man said with those same dramatics he was used to using. "He's close by. He's been asking about some means to travel to another realm. Quite desperate they say."

Killian didn't bother to ask who they were, as Smee was unlikely to know. His hand clenched and released, feeling the desire to crush the man in question's heart between his fingers though he had never done such a thing himself. He somehow doubted that the Crocodile even had a heart, as how could any man or beast who had done such things truly have a conscience or a soul. "Where?"

"Nothing for certain yet," Smee admitted. "But I've got my sources. Don't you worry, Captain. We'll find him."

***AAA***

"He's just offering to walk me to the inn," Emma protested when Red handed her the small silver dagger as Killian's form became more evident in the distance. "I hardly need protection."

The dark haired woman scoffed at her protests, reaching out and curling the young princess's fingers around the handle of the weapon. "Killian Jones is not exactly a gentleman," she warned, her face clearly saying more.

"Perhaps he has changed," Emma said, uncertainty bleeding through. "I don't really know him, but you seem to think he is dangerous. Is there something that you are wanting to tell me?"

Red felt as though she was on a tight wire hung over a cliff. This was her friend's daughter, her only daughter and the heir to the crown. She had sworn to Snow that she would protect Emma from all harm, but what harm was Killian Jones. He had a reputation, but so did most men of the sea. She had seen him take many a woman to his room to bed them, but was that really so different than any of the other men in town. Surely his experience was based more on his good looks offering him better opportunities than some of the others. "I don't believe your father or mother would think any man was good enough for you," Red shared. "I am just warning you to keep your wits about you."

She was about to ask the woman again about Killian when Leo bounded out the door after them, his arms going about Emma's waist. "Don't go, Emma," he practically whined. With his mouth half hidden by Emma's skirts (or rather Red's skirts in the borrowed dress), it sounded as though he was saying mama through the muffled cry.

Emma let him cling for another moment as Killian approached on the horse from the night before, the sunlight revealing bits of amber in his scruff and inky black hair. His eyes were watching the scene with interest as she unwound the boy's arms and knelt before him, taking his chin in one hand to tilt his vision toward her. "You enjoyed spending the day with Aunt Red yesterday. And remember what you promised me? You're going to be a big help to her today in the garden. She must get it ready for planting."

The little boy's eyes were no longer the grey-blue they had been as a baby, but a crystal color that their father also had. Wide and bright, he nodded emphatically as he repeated a few of the things he could do like dig the holes for the seeds and help her clear away the vines and weeds that had sprout up since the last harvest. "I'll be a big help," he announced proudly. "I could plant the whole thing myself."

"No doubt that you could," Emma told him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "I'll be back later to hear all about it." She smiled fondly at him as he embraced Red's hand for the walk back to the cabin unaware of the stern look that the older woman was shooting toward Killian.

"Is that your horse?" he asked Killian suddenly, his attention turning from the two women to the man standing there waiting.

"I borrowed her so that the lady would not have to walk so far," he told the boy, smiling at the way the small eyes scrutinized the animal.

"Is it a far walk?" Leo asked his sister, peering up at her with curiosity. "So far that you need a horse?" He knew his sister well, including her love of sneaking off to walk by herself to think. More times than he could count he had asked his parents about Emma's whereabouts only to hear that she was off for a walk.

"You took that walk with me the other day," she reminded him. "You know how far it is." She could feel the amused grin on Killian's face growing as the boy mentally calculated. "Killian is being kind to let me ride rather than walk so I am a bigger help to Granny."

"She needs our help," he said, repeating the phrase from the night before.

"Yes, and you are so good to want to help Aunt Red so I might do this."

***AAA***

"You don't have to do this, you know," Emma said, breaking the silence that had fallen as Killian led the horse back into the village. They had spoken only occasionally about benign topics like the weather and if she was comfortable enough. "I am capable of walking."

"Perhaps this is my way of helping," he commented. "You will be fresh and rested for a day helping the Widow Lucas. Knowing her as I do, I imagine you have to work hard enough to convince her to allow you to do so."

Emma did not answer that, not wanting to speak ill of the woman who had been such an ally to her parents. Instead she commented again on the low fog that hung around the marshy area where they were at, laughing as she admitted it had taken her a few years of life before she had realized how Mist Haven had gotten its name. "I wasn't the brightest child."

"I have no doubt you were a precocious and brilliant child, as your boy certainly seems to have those same traits."

The sun was already beginning to burn off much of the fog as they traveled, Killian guiding the horse around some of the bumpier parts of the path. She did not remind him again that she was perfectly capable of navigating this on her own, as she could see how proud he was to do something for her. "You seem to know your way around here," she said, suddenly seeming to realize that it was her turn to talk. He did seem quite sure in his navigation despite the fog and the ardent glances at her that seemed to be more frequent than his glances at the path.

"Is that a compliment?" he asked.

"Just an observation."

The planked and stone buildings of the town grew closer and Emma could see that people were already milling about. It was laundry day so many of the women who usually were at home were coming out with woven baskets toward the river that emptied into the ocean. The color of their soiled fabrics bright against the landscape of budding trees and fresh grass. She sighed a bit at the sight of it, eliciting a questioning look from him. "It's pretty with all the colors, bright and new."

He nodded as if he understood and then steadied the horse in front of the door to the inn. The horse was hardly a while one and presented no danger of running off with her, but he still stood there as a guard for her. She pulled her leg over the saddle horn so that she might slide down to the ground, but hesitated as she looked at him. "A gentleman would help me down."

"Then I suppose I should do that since I am always a gentleman," he said. He smirked, dropping the reigns to offer his hand to her as she righted herself on the ground and smoothed down her dress before letting go.

"Aunt Red claims that you aren't, but you did that quite naturally."

"I'm afraid my reputation would agree with your Aunt Red," he said, a hint of sadness shining through. "You do bring out some of my more noble instincts though."

Her eyes studied his embarrassed gesture as he reached behind her for the knotted package that Red had again packed for her. His chuckle broke the silence as he placed it in her waiting hands. "That's quite a lunch that the Lady Lucas packed for you. Are you usually so hungry?"

Pink staining her pale cheeks, she weighed the package in her hands and remembered the addition of the salted meats, cheese, and bread that she had seen the woman include. There was quite a bit for her, despite the fact that she was working in an establishment that served food. "She did seem to overindulge. Perhaps…" She looked up at him again. "Perhaps I could convince you to share my lunch with me. It won't be the same as lunch at the pub."

It was a bold request for the time, one that a princess or anyone of breeding would never make. However, it flowed off her tongue with incredible ease though her breath did hitch as she waited for his answer. "I think I should like that." His words had echoed her own shy semi-acceptance of him.

"You should take the horse back," she told him, maneuvering toward the front door. "I'll see you for lunch?"

"Aye."

***AAA***

Granny wearily handed the young blonde the sacks of flour to place on the lopsided wooden shelves that lined the far wall of the kitchen. Each of them was 25 pounds and cumbersome to throw into place for a girl who had very little experience with such things. Letting out an inelegant grunt at the exertion, Emma wiped her brow with the back of her hand and waited on the next instruction from the woman.

The older woman glanced at the kitchen door that led outside, her eyes scanning the empty opening with careful consideration. "I thought that one handed man would be around here to help you," she said with a puff of air. "He might have actually been useful today."

Emma flushed either from the statement or from the exertion. "I think he had things to do."

"I don't think he has given up on your attention so easily. Men like him are stubborn and determined if anything."

Emma pushed her hands down onto her dress as she watched the older woman. "He's not trying to get my attention," she insisted. "He's just being helpful."

"Don't paint him in the light of some school boy offering to walk you home from class, Emma," the woman warned. "He's a grown man and obviously has found something of interest in you. There's nothing noble about it. He's dangerous and dark, two qualities that may seem exciting but are bound to hurt you in the end. I know better than to try to forbid you, but I hope you'll listen to reason."

"There's no need to warn me, Granny," Emma said, brushing off the idea. "He's…"

"I'd tell you that your parents would not approve, but that might encourage you more. So I'll tell you this. His intentions might seem good and light right now, but he's not the sort of man who has that goodness in him. He'll always look out for himself first. And that is not the kind of man you wish to have asking about you."

There was a small gasp from Granny as she fisted her hands at her sides, an indication that Emma had learned signaled that she was in some sort of pain. Neither of them spoke as whatever the pain was faded away, the woman's appearance returning to normal.

"You should rest more," Emma said in a soft but admonishing voice. "You don't look well."

"I'll sleep with the trolls in the afterlife," the woman said, barking out an order to Lily to get the mutton cut before the customers began to arrive. "You and Red worry and fret over me as though it might prolong my life. My dear I'm old and eventually this body will wear itself out."

Emma's mouth drew into a frown as she looked at the floor. "I don't like to think about that. It's too sad." Emma had lost most of her grandparents long before she was born. So while she felt the loss of them, she did not have memories of them in her life.

"It's a part of life, dear," the woman said affectionately. "Reminds us that we should not squander our time. Especially with the wrong people. The wrong sorts will cause you pain." The woman straightened her apron and muttered something about the full moon as she rubbed her scarred arm. "Come on with you now. We've got more baking to do and mutton to cook."

By the time Emma managed to take a small break for lunch her apron bore the stains of the flour and bits of dough, even a streak of flour across her forehead and down her cheek. However, Killian had not forgotten her invitation and stood hesitantly at the doorway watching her retwist her blonde hair into a tighter braid as she hummed a song that her mother had sang to her on occasion. "I was afraid you might have forgotten, love," he said. "I even brought a bit of fruit for us to share."

She was a bit startled to have been caught in such a moment and gave her apron a quick brush with her hands as if it might help the mess. "I'm sorry. I was going to come search for you."

"No need," he said with a little chuckle. "I ran in a few of the shops this morning and did a few things that I had been neglecting. I am all yours now."

Still used to eating her meals in her room or in the private dining room with her family, Emma felt awkward as she gathered the pack that Red had made for her. "I suppose we could eat in here," she said, ignoring the way the flames from the oven had already heated the room to a near unbearable state.

"If you don't mind, Emma, I know of a spot. That is if you think you can get away for a few moments." She agreed that she could and followed him out the door and down the rockier path to the docks. He was much more sure footed than she was and cradled his own packages under his arm so that he might offer her a hand for balance.

"I tried to find a spot away from the fisherman and the cannery," he explained as he led her to the spot he had in mind. He'd already placed a blanket there and pillow for her to sit on, which she told him was sweet but unnecessary. She noted as he stretched out in front of her that his clothes were different than this morning. His light colored pants and shirt were replaced with a brown pair of riding pants and a similarly styled shirt as he had been wearing the past two days in a blue color with a brown waistcoat on top. His leather boots shone brightly.

She felt a bit underdressed in the work dress that she had again borrowed for Red. This time it was a brown and pink pattern with tiny buttons that had tulips carved into the boning. She had taken off her apron and left it back at the inn, but still she felt a mess. Brushing her hand across her forehead to push back a few of the errant strands of hair, she was horrified to find the white flour on her hand. She almost spat at Killian for not telling her of the mess.

He only grinned and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief that he dipped into the water before wiping the flour from her face. She had not had anyone do such a thing since she was a small child and had snuck into the chocolate with Elsa and Anna. However, she could not help but notice the sigh that left her mouth at the tender way he touched her. "Better?" he asked.

"You tell me," she answered. "I cannot see my own face."

"Lovely as always."

Not realizing that she had unconsciously leaned forward to better accept his touch even though it had been more practical than anything else, she retreated backward quickly. She set about unfurling the bulging napkin that Red had packed and attempting to settle the items on the blanket as she had seen others do in the past. Killian did the same with the dried fruit, apologizing that it was the wrong time of the year for fresh.

They both chewed quietly, occasionally commenting on the tastiness of the items or about a bird that flew by them. So when Emma spoke again, Killian practically jumped in surprise not only at the sound but at her bluntness. "You don't seem that dangerous," she said, studying the angle of his face and the slope of his brow. "I'm not sure…"

"You assume me to be a danger to you and yet you asked me to lunch?" he asked, the dimples that appeared when he smiled disappeared as he considered his own question. "You enjoy courting danger?"

Her eyes rolled upward, the dark lashes she sported fluttering with the absurdity of both her question and his answer. "People warn me about you, but you don't seem that menacing. I was only wondering if you would be honest with me."

He chewed at the bread he was eating with a bit more care than was needed, taking the moment to think. "I suppose that people are always going to label us as they see fit, but no, Emma, I am not a danger to you. I would never wish to hurt you."

She had heard words promising protection before, assurances that no harm would come to her. She had heard them from Baelfire on more than one occasion, including the night he asked her to run away with him. That little voice inside her, the warning bell that ran each time she felt the tug of someone's dishonesty had failed her that night. Or perhaps she had buried it under the hope and optimism for a future. She waited for it to sound at Killian's words, but there was little more than a tiny twinge.

Killian had no way to know of her internal dialogue, no clue as to her struggle to reconcile the gentleness of the man before her with the alarm that Granny and Red had raised. So he continued to talk to her, unknowing that his words were lost on her at that moment. "I'm sorry? I wasn't…"

He smiled a bit tightly, reaching forward to reassemble some of the packages. "I suppose your mind was wandering, love. I was only saying that I hoped you wouldn't find it too forward, but I purchased a bit of a trinket for your boy."

Emma's confused state grew, her mouth falling a bit. He truly did think that Leo was her son, completely unaware of her identity and station. Of course, she told herself. A man of any position or lack thereof would share a lunch with a princess. There would be guards and protocols. Her parents would have had to have met him, approved, and given permission. Still the guilt she felt bubbling inside her was not for having skipped those steps with the established court. It was his sincerity that hurt, that trust in his expression.

"I don't think…"

His tight smile faltered, eyes darkening. "I apologize, Emma. I didn't mean to overstep my place. I had not intended to…I saw a miniature ship that had been carved by the local cobbler and thought it might be a nice toy for the lad to have while you were away. It was not meant to be a ploy, only a token. I will not gift him with it if it bothers you." His hand hurried with the work of putting away their lunch scraps.

Her chest felt tight as she watched him, his demeanor a bit crestfallen at the idea that he had somehow done the wrong thing. "I'm sure it is something he will love," she said finally. "But he's not…he's not my son. He's my younger brother. I am caring for him while our parents are seeing to other matters."

Killian's head snapped up and for a split second Emma worried that her dishonesty had proven too much for him. "A dutiful daughter and older sister. I must say that I'm quite impressed and a bit relieved. I had thought you might be a widow or that some horrible fate had befallen you to leave you quite alone with your boy, but it is a more honorable cause that has you working as you do."

"Killian, I'm not…" she paused. "I'm not that noble or honorable. Please don't place me on some pedestal like a work of art. I'm flawed." She stumbled up to her feet, swaying a bit the dock's movement before she could walk back toward the inn and pub.

She wasn't really thinking about him following, assuming that he wouldn't. So when his footsteps grew closer and he fell into stride beside her, she stopped in her tracks. The questions on her face asked why he would continue to try to get to know her when she was clearly not prepared for such attention.

"I'm flawed too, love, but everyone is. I only hope you see past those flaws."

I haven't gotten a chance to respond to many of the comments, but I want to say thank you again. I love that people love this story and concept. I hope you continue to enjoy it and continue to tell me what you are thinking and what works for you.