"That's the last of the houses in town," David said, crossing a square off the map he had spread across his desk at the sheriff's office. "No one knows anyone named Sorcha."

"And she never set foot in the convent," Henry added. "We've already verified that. No one in town has met anyone from Agrabah other than Aladdin and Jasmine, either."

"So that pretty much means Sorcha is The Black Fairy. But why not just steal the amulet?" David asked. "She could have kept Emma in the other realm until she gave birth and gotten her there."

"Maybe she couldn't get to the other realm?" Henry surmised. "And even if she could, my Mom was right - Killian would have stood between her and the baby. She'll have enough to battle just going up against my mom."

"So here's the big question," David said, drumming his fingers on the table. "Can the Black Fairy leave Storybrooke? Would we be better off keeping Emma out of town?"

"We need Blue," Henry said.

David nodded. "We need Blue." He strode over to the door, but just as he was opening it, Blue pushed from the other side.

"I came as soon as I heard your request," Blue said, breezing into the room.

"That was fast." Henry said.

"I was nearby. Has there been any word from Emma?"

"Nothing new," David said. "Killian still has no idea who he is, and we're running out of time. What we need to know is whether or not the Black Fairy can get out of Storybrooke."

"She can," Blue said regretfully. "Which means Emma isn't safe anywhere, but as long as the Fairy doesn't know where she is, we're buying time. I assume she's on her way back?"

"No. She's on her way to San Diego." Henry opened up a map of the United States, tracing it with his finger. "We think it might help Killian remember faster if we can get him to the ocean. That's the closest point from where they are."

Blue nodded. "It's as good a plan as any," she said. "He's been on the sea for centuries."

"And once he's got some memory back, the next step is bringing them home," David said, reaching for the map to fold it up. "Emma says she won't come back until he's himself again."

"This must be very hard for her," Blue said, her eyes full of sympathy. "Is she well? The stress can't be good for the baby."

"She's holding up," David said. "She's made of strong stuff."

"She is. As are her parents." She gave them both a smile and walked to the door. "Keep me informed, will you? I've got all the sisters keeping watch. If the Black Fairy returns, we'll know about it."

David called out a thank you as he followed her out the door, and he and Henry climbed into his truck. They pulled up at the loft apartment a few minutes later and didn't speak until they were safely behind the door.

"Did she follow you?" Regina asked.

"Can't tell," Henry answered. "But we didn't say anything just to be safe."

"A good strategy," said Blue, coming out from the living room. "You're safer talking here, under Regina's protection spell."

"Well, now that she's taken the bait, how long will it take her to realize they're not headed west?" David asked.

"Uncertain," Blue shook her head. "But it did buy her some time. Let's hope it's enough."

"We can't just stand around here, hoping for the best while that black-winged harpy tries to sink her talons into that baby," Regina snapped. "We need to get her home as fast as possible."

"And how do we do that?" David asked. "Emma already called the airlines - they won't allow her to fly without a doctor's note at this stage of her pregnancy. And as far along as she is, she's not going to make great time on the road. It'll be a few days, at least."

"That's if she can even talk Killian into coming," Henry said.

"She'll take him at gunpoint if she has to," David reminded him. "But it's still going to take a while."

"We need to shorten their road trip," Regina said. "And I think I know how we can get Killian to help us."

###

Emma sat the cocoa down on the table in front of Killian, but he didn't move to take it.

"It's not homemade, but it does have cinnamon," she said apologetically. "It's still pretty good."

He looked up at her and made a slight huffing sound. "I was actually hoping for rum this time."

"Got you covered," she said, with a sympathetic smile. She headed back to the cupboard and grabbed the bottle, not bothering with a glass. She uncorked it and handed it to him, watching as he took a healthy draught. He set the bottle down on the table as she took a seat at the table across from him.

"Better?" she asked.

He nodded. "A bit." He closed his eyes as memories flashed before him again. A darkened street, lightning crackling. A wall of ice. Emma, shivering in his arms, and not in a good way.

He opened his eyes to find her looking at him, her eyes searching his.

"You remembered again."

"Some." He reached for the bottle, taking another drink, but nothing more came to his mind. "You have no idea how frustrating this is. To see only bits and pieces, to feel that you must know something, but it won't come."

Emma wrapped her hands around her mug, rolling it between her palms. "Actually, I do. I do know exactly how that feels."

He looked at her curiously. "You've lost your memory, as well?"

"I did once. Someone helped me remember who I was, though."

"Do you know what happened to me?"

"Yes." She took a drink of her cocoa, trying to figure out how she was going to frame all this. "First, I have a question for you. What do you remember? About me?" Her hand went down to her belly, rubbing. "About us?"

"Not much. As I said, it's only flashes of scenes, like I fell asleep during a movie and I can only remember a few times that I opened my eyes. The scenes are without context. Confusing. But what I feel. . ." He bit his lip, closing his eyes as if in pain. "I don't remember anything about her conception, but I know to the marrow of my bones that the baby is mine. I don' t know how that is, it just. . . is."

"Sorry you skipped the conception," Emma said with a smirk. "It was pretty damn terrific."

Killian gave her an answering chuckle. "Glad to hear I acquitted myself well. Now I'm really frustrated at not remembering."

"It'll come," Emma said, reaching out to cover his hand. "I've got a plan."

"Is this what happened to you?" he asked, turning his hand over to twine his fingers with hers. "Whatever happened to me?"

"Yes, and no." Emma licked her lips, thinking. "I have a lot to fill you in on, and some of it is going to sound just plain crazy. I mean really, really crazy," she amended as his brows rose.

"Losing six months of my life with no explanation is crazy," Killian said, taking another drink of rum. He set the bottle back on the table and pushed it to the side. "Go ahead. Any explanation is better than the hell I've been living. Do you know, I dreamed about you? I could never see your face, but once you arrived, I suddenly could. I told myself I just had a crush on you and was therefore inserting you into those dreams, but that's not what happened at all, is it?"

"No. Some part of you remembers, even under - uh - extreme circumstances."

"And what were they, exactly?"

His eyes were leveled on her, and she wanted more than anything to just wrap herself around him, but she had to take this slow. There was no magic potion that could cure him in an instant, as he'd used on her before. This wasn't the same kind of magic.

"You weren't injured," she began slowly, choosing her words with care. "What happened to you was magic." She winced as she said the word, but he continued to stare at her, as if waiting. Finally, recognition began to dawn in his eyes.

"You really mean that. You think this was paranormal? Was I abducted by aliens?" He looked at her in disbelief.

"Not little green men. Or ghosts. It was more like. . ." What? She couldn't tell him a glittery black fairy tossed him into the desert with the help of an enchanted Irish shillelagh. She was just starting to make headway, here.

"Let me rephrase that," she started over. "I meant to say there's no scientific explanation for what happened to you. I only know that it did. And I'm here to help you remember. There are people where I come from that said the best way to do that is to remind you of who you were before all this happened. So I'm here to do that."

"Where you come from? You mean New York?"

"No." Emma shook her head. "I was in New York a few years ago, when I'd lost my memory. You came to the city to find me. I didn't remember you at first, so I tried to have you locked up. You scared me, because you seemed familiar, but you were spouting nonsense. Sound familiar?"

"I don't think you're spouting nonsense. But I do wonder why you won't just come out with it. What have I done that was so terrible you can't tell me?"

Emma's brow creased with concern. "Nothing." She grasped their hands between both of hers and squeezed. "Nothing, Killian. You're a good man. You're the father of our child."

"And I abandoned you." His mouth was set in a grim line.

"No, no you didn't." Emma shook her head vehemently. "You would never do that. Ever. You were taken from me before I had a chance to tell you I was pregnant. I only just found out where you were."

"Who told you? Was it the person responsible?" His eyes flared. "Are you in danger?"

There's my Killian, she thought. Oh, you're in there, all right. "Right now, the priority is you," she said evasively. "Nothing's going to make sense until we get you back to who you were. And maybe we can start with this."

She reached down into the pocket of her robe, and placed his hook right in the center of the table.

He stared at it strangely, tilting his head to one side. "Is that. . .?"

"Yours? Yes." She pushed herself slowly to her feet, giving her belly an absent-minded rub.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "Sit back down, I can get whatever it is."

"You don't need to pamper me," Emma said over her shoulder. "I'm feeling pretty good tonight." She opened a drawer, reaching inside, and pulled out his cuff, setting it on the table next to the hook. "It all goes together. Try it on."

He picked the hook up, dangling it from his fingers. "It's a little old-fashioned, don't you think?"

"You're a little old-fashioned," she said with a slight smile. "It suits you."

"All right." He picked up the cuff, feeling the warm familiarity of the leather in his hand, the grooves and the give of it as he fastened it on his arm. He picked up the hook, watching the light gleam off the metal as he pushed it into the socket, and almost without thought he gave it a turn, locking it in place.

"See there?" Emma commented. "You do remember."

He lifted his arm, and it felt - well, it felt right. The weight of it was comfortable, steady. The hook was an extension of his arm, and he gave it a few test swipes in the air, feeling the pull of his muscles as he maneuvered. He closed his eyes as a wave of memories tumbled over him.

The hook, laying on the deck, the pain of his bleeding stump.

The hook, sinking into flesh, into necks and bellies, ripping through skin and lodging in bone. He heard the screams, echoing, the dying gurgles as the air bled out of so many, many men.

The hook, plunging into a girl's chest, ripping out her heart. . .

"No!" He shouted, jumping to his feet. He wrenched the hook out of its socket, tore off the cuff, and hurled them both against the wall. "No," he panted, bringing his fist up to his temple. "I saw. . . blood. And death." His tortured eyes met Emma's. "What sort of a man was I?"

She came around the table, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. "You're not that man anymore."

"But I was." His voice was full of self-loathing, and he wouldn't look at her. Emma wasn't having any of that. She reached up, gently moving the lock of hair that fell across his forehead.

"Listen to me," she said. "Everybody's got a past. I have one that I'm not especially proud of. You and I - we understood each other. We'd both been alone too long. And when we found each other, things began to change. I found my family. I found myself. And then I found you."

He looked down at her, shell-shocked, not even sure what to say or if he could even form words. He only knew the touch of her hand felt like home. He leaned down hesitantly, giving her every opportunity to push him away, which was odd, really. He'd obviously been intimate with her before, but as familiar as this was, it also felt new, and he didn't want to upset her.

She stood absolutely still as his lips brushed hers, once, twice, and then she leaned in, sliding her arms around his neck, holding him as close as her rounded body would allow, pressing into him as she returned and deepened the kiss. It was like someone had thrown a match into dry tinder, igniting something deep in his belly. He pulled her in - probably too tightly - but he couldn't have stopped himself if the room were on fire. It certainly felt like it was.

He was devoured by the feelings rushing through him - a direct counterpoint to the darkness he'd felt before. This was Emma. . . Emma . . Emma. . . his mind chanted it over and over in a litany as his lips slanted and moved over hers. Pictures flashed through his memory, of them sitting at an outdoor cafe, standing in a jungle, laying on a couch. . . even in a graveyard? His mind flitted over that, noting it was odd, but he was too consumed by the feel of her to care.

The kiss would have gone on endlessly if it weren't for Emma, letting out a yelp and taking an involuntary step back.

"The baby," she said apologetically. Then she looked up. "Killian?" she asked hopefully.

He brought a hand down, settling it lightly on her belly. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"She's not hurt," Emma said, reaching for his hand to hold it. She looked at him searchingly for a long, charged moment before letting out a sigh. "I guess the kiss didn't work," she said.

Killian raised a brow. "It certainly worked on me."

"Not what I mean," she said with a smirk. "It was a longshot without you being able to remember me. I was hoping your memories came back."

"I got a few more flashes," he said, closing his eyes to remember. "They were nice ones this time. You and I. And a lot of kissing."

"There was a lot of kissing," she said with a smile. She brought his hand back to her belly. "Obviously."

"Perhaps the secret is to just keep kissing me," he suggested. "By morning I could be back to my old self again."

Emma let out a laugh. "Now there's the pirate I know and love."

"Pirate?" He looked surprised.

"Later," she said. "It's after midnight and I am dead on my feet. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"What are we doing tomorrow?"

Emma pulled his hand up to her lips. "I need you to do something for me. No questions asked. Just a blind leap of faith. As the mother of your child, I'm asking this."

He felt the weight of those words like an anvil on his chest. His answer was immediate and automatic. "Anything," he said. "Whatever it is."

He closed his eyes as another flash of memory assailed him. A man in a uniform, a brother. His brother. And he knew he'd follow him anywhere. He sucked in a breath as he opened his eyes.

"You remembered something else?" Emma asked, watching him closely.

Killian nodded. "A brother. I have a brother."

"His name was Liam."

"Liam. That's right."

"Your sense of honor," Emma mused. "I touched on your sense of honor, and you remembered Liam. It makes sense."

Killian shook his head. "I'm not following."

"Your sense of honor is as much a part of you as those lethal blue eyes. I only needed to remind you of it. And tomorrow, I want to take you somewhere that's just as much a part of you."

"And where's that?"

She leaned in, kissing him once more. "Home," she said simply. "Wanna go on a road trip with me?"

"I'll have to speak with Billy first. Let him know I'll be away for a while."

"Of course. Your honor would demand that you do." Emma yawned, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth.

"Look at you!" Killian said, reaching out to steady her. "You're swaying on your feet. Let me help you to your bed."

She looked up at him as he ushered her down the hall. "You're staying. . . right?"

He went very still. "Do you want me to?"

"I miss your arms around me. It's been a long time. But if this is weird for you, I understand."

"I've missed you, too," he said quietly. "I didn't realize it until now, but there's nothing weird about this. I'll stay, if you'll have me."

Emma patted her belly. "I've had you already," she smirked. "And look where that got me. Come on, I'm half-asleep and you've got minutes before I'm all the way there."

He helped her into bed, turning his eyes away as slipped into a nightgown before laying back and pulling the covers up. He only took off his boots before sliding in next to her, and he moved closer as she reached back, pulling his arm around her so he could spoon her from behind. It was only moments until her breathing deepened, and he laid there in the dark, his mind whirring with all he'd remembered and experienced tonight.

No, there was nothing weird about this, he thought. She felt right in his arms. Completely and utterly right. No matter what he'd been before, what horrors he'd seen or visited upon others, no matter who he'd been - a pirate? Perhaps. No matter what all that meant, she was here.

There's the pirate I know and love, she'd said.

He didn't believe it. Surely she was only joking, in light of the man he'd once been. But he liked the sound of it.

He pulled her closer, smoothed back her hair, and let his mind wander as his fingers stroked her belly, and sleep claimed him at last.