Author's Note: I had this chapter carefully planned for a long time, yet it took more work than I was expecting. Apologies for the delay.


~ The Story of a Saviour ~

It happened in the middle of March, when Winter faded to Spring. Ice lifted and flowers bloomed, but Emma and her two boys were tucked away in their apartment amidst a bigger change.

'We have to be more careful,' Emma said, seated beside Henry. 'And child-proof everything.'

'I think it's awesome.' The pre-teen smiled, watching Liam push himself forward in a half-crawl. 'He's so close now.'

Emma groaned, heading to the kitchen for much-needed coffee. Her role as a mother grew as often as Liam, but her self-doubt wasn't prepared for her little boy to become self-mobile.

It absolutely terrified Emma.

Her only relief, despite initial stress that came with it, was the boy's magic. Or rather, Henry's acceptance of his little brother's magic. It'd been only a matter of time until he noticed, but Henry took Emma's confirmation in stride and consistently proved what a great big brother he was.

However, Henry's knowledge of magic came with an onslaught of questions Emma avoided as long as possible.

She was angry they couldn't live their life in New York without dragging along troublesome responsibilities of the Enchanted Forest and everything associated. Emma wished her memories hadn't returned as soon as they had, but there was something to be appreciated in how Liam's magic was the only part of being his mother that Emma knew how to handle.

It was cruel how quickly it happened; Emma woke in mid-March no longer just a mother. She spent all day mourning her favourite aspect of their New York life, where she'd only ever been a struggling single-mother of two boys. Having muffled her cries in a pillow for long enough, Emma forced herself to accept a happy ending wasn't in the cards for a saviour.

With bitter defeat, it was time to face the inevitable. Nothing made her feel less suited as a parent than telling her young son that their life and happiness was built on lies and loss. Emma learned the hard way that to keep it from him – to lie and conceal a truth he'd already begun to suspect, was far worse than any of her pain and guilt which motivated falsehood.

With dinner and dessert finished, and Liam asleep in his nursery, Emma faced her eldest son.

'Sit down, kid,' she said, heart heavy with dread as she pat the spot of couch beside her.

Henry sat, exhaling a long breath to brace himself.

Emma spent a week preparing him, even sending him off to Avery's for a fun weekend of just being a regular twelve-year-old kid. Tara, fully aware of Emma's plan, took their pre-teens around the city to see Museums and movies – helping Henry create very real memories of his life in New York. The boys ate pizza and chatted for hours filled with all the city had to offer. Those were memories Henry could hold onto when everything else stripped away to re-write his entire life. He needed an anchor; Henry understood, without being told, and thanked Emma for it. She hoped it was enough.

Moving to New York brought them than they'd ever been – above all else, that's what Emma feared losing when he learned the truth.

'I'm ready.' Henry nodded, jumping straight into his memorised list of questions. 'Did I ever meet Liam's dad?'

'Yes.' Emma sighed, guilt flushing hotter at an opportunity she couldn't resist. She'd planned to start at the very beginning, with giving Henry up when he was born, but he begun with questions of Killian and she latched onto it. Perhaps the whole truth wasn't necessary?

It wasn't as if his memories were likely to come back.

'When?'

'Ah...' Emma winced. 'Okay, let's back-track a little.' She handed him a photo of them sitting at a table in Storybrooke. The camera in Neal's apartment was left alone for a long time, but she'd finally gotten it developed.

'Storybrooke?' Henry frowned. 'Where's that?'

'It's in Maine,' Emma said. 'We lived there...With my parents.'

'What?' His eyes lifted from the photo to stare at her. 'You found them? I have grandparents? Why-?'

'Whoa, one at a time, kid.' She held up hands in surrender. 'You don't remember because your memories were...It's complicated. I didn't know either, until Liam was born and somehow it all came back.'

'Maybe his magic did that?' Henry guessed. 'It is magic, right?'

'Right.' Emma nodded. 'Magic is real, kid. I know it probably sounds crazy, but I wouldn't lie to you about this.'

'I know, Mum. I believe you.' He nodded, dropping his gaze to the photo. 'Can we go back? And what happened to our memories?'

'I'm getting there.' Emma sighed. 'First...' She reached behind her for the storybook.

'Fairytales?' Henry's eyes narrowed. 'I don't understand.'

'These ones are real,' she said, keeping emotions locked away.

Memories of her 28th Birthday came to mind, replaying the moment when little Henry showed up on her doorstep. He said she was the saviour, and everything changed from that night on.

'Every story in this book actually happened,' Emma continued. 'I'm the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. There was a curse, long before you were born, that brought everyone from the Enchanted Forest to this world. It created Storybrooke.'

Henry's frown deepened, eyes scanning other photos she'd given him. He stared at one of Mary Margaret in her classroom, arm looped around a younger Henry's shoulders as they both smiled brightly at the camera.

'I dreamed about her,' he admitted. 'Like this – short hair and my teacher. She's really Snow White?'

Watching his face scrunch with confused attentiveness, Emma waited to see if anything else clicked into place. She hadn't said his teacher was Snow White.

The boy sighed and glanced at her, expectant.

'It's the same person.' Emma flipped to a page showing the princess bandit. 'Your Grandmother.'

She bit her lip as Henry compared pictures. He was so quiet her nerves could barely handle it. He didn't call her a liar or get angry, which was already a better reaction than she'd feared.

'What happened?' he finally asked. 'Why'd we leave?'

Emma told Henry about the wardrobe that transported her to the Land Without Magic, how his father was the son of Rumpelstiltskin, what brought about the curse and how she broke it, then Neverland and Peter Pan's terrible plans for Storybrooke – and finally, the real reason they'd ended up in New York with new memories.

Henry didn't say a word during her hurried explanation, but when she finished Emma felt some weight lift from her shoulders. He didn't know she'd given him up or was raised by Regina, though she mentioned the woman was important to him and had changed her ways since the first curse was cast.

She forced herself to be patient as Henry processed the information, his head ducked to stare at the book she clutched. His expression noticeably shifted as Henry slouched his shoulders, but anger and resentment didn't emerge.

'And Liam's dad,' Henry whispered, head still bowed. 'Who's Killian Jones really?'

'Well...' Emma laughed nervously. 'Captain Hook.'

'What?' Henry stared at her, annoyance flashing across his face. 'But Captain Hook's a bad guy, isn't he? You said...'

'He's not.' Emma placed a hand to his, meeting her son's green eyes with determination. Her heart ached, but she refused to believe Hook was anything less than the honourable and kind man she'd had just enough of a chance to know.

They paused and turned when Liam made a sound from the nursery, but no cries followed.

'Killian became Captain Hook after someone he loved was killed in front of him,' Emma defended the man she may love, if her heart allowed itself to. 'He thought getting revenge would make it hurt less, but he's changed. Yes, Hook was a bad guy, but then he found other things to fight for. Henry, Killian's as good and honourable a man as I told you. I believe in him, and he has every right to know Liam. If only...'

'Okay.' Henry nodded, reaching. 'Can I see it?'

'You believe me?' Emma hesitated, holding the storybook tighter.

His memories could come back, she realised, if he held the book. That's what helped her, and it was no secret among their family that it was no ordinary storybook.

'I believe you.' Henry nodded.

He gripped the book with both hands, gasping as his eyes widened and a rush of magic tickled Emma's skin. Henry breathed heavily, then cried out and dropped the scorching book. She checked his palms, but the pain was just a means to make him release the object. She retrieved the book, which didn't react to her, and placed it on the coffee table.

Henry's hand-prints remained blackened on the cover and spine.

'What was that?' Henry asked, letting her drag him to the kitchen sink.

'I don't know.' Emma frowned, washing his unmarked hands in cold water. He wasn't badly hurt, but it bred intense worry that refused to let her go.

'What did you see?'

'The Enchanted Forest,' Henry answered, as Liam made another sound from the nursery. 'I saw Snow White and Prince Charming fighting knights, and putting you in the wardrobe. I saw a dragon, and Storybrooke – when I was poisoned and you woke me. There was my room, and my school. Some of Neverland was confusing, but Liam's dad...' He looked at the floor.

'What?' Emma prompted.

'He helped save me – us.' Henry smiled, though saddened eyes wouldn't meet hers. 'I don't remember what I saw when it hurt.'

They fell silent, as Emma fussed over his hands until Henry insisted the pain was completely gone.

Re-seating on the couch, keeping their distance from the hand-printed storybook, Henry asked continued his questioning – how was the curse cast, did Captain Hook have his ship there, do those returned to the Enchanted Forest have their memories? Emma didn't have all the answers, but Henry was satisfied with those she gave.

All except one.

'I've tried, Henry.' Emma rubbed her forehead, frustrated. 'There's just...We need magic to go back, and this world is without magic.'

'But magic came here,' Henry said. 'Maybe...Maybe we could just contact them or...?'

Emma exhaled when his determination faded with the reality of their situation and the miracle it would take to return to the Enchanted Forest. Except it was Henry, and her ever-so-hopeful son didn't give up easily.

'You're the saviour,' Henry added. 'If anyone can find a way, it's you.'

'Being the saviour sucks,' Emma grumbled. 'Before Storybrooke, I was no hero. You made me better – being a mother made me better, not because I was a saviour or some fairytale princess. I broke the curse because I love you.'

'But that's just it – love is light magic. It's the most powerful magic of all,' Henry said. 'You love me, and Liam, and our family so much. You're the saviour because you turn that love into magic.'

Emma smiled, knowing her mother would have whole-heartedly agreed with Henry's perspective. It was unlikely no one else had turned love into magic before, and yet they weren't the saviour, but Emma let Henry believe his theory. No one ever explained why she had to be the hero they needed to break a curse and bring back happy endings.

Liam made another sound and Emma's instincts spurred action. The little boy's whine turned to distress as she reached the nursery door. She lifted Liam into her arms and rocked him gently. Leaving Henry to gather his thoughts, Emma fed her baby and wondered how he even had magic in a world without it. Her own magic had sparked and flickered at high-stress moments in her childhood, but nothing to the degree of Liam's intentional toy-retrieval.

Kissing her toddler's chubby cheeks, she lay him back in his crib.

Emma and Henry didn't continue their conversation that night. It was a lot for the twelve-year-old to take in, but he thanked her for the truth. Emma's guilt kept extra details at bay, but regret didn't immediately flare its ugly head. Things had changed, but Henry believed her and wasn't angry. There was relief in his gaze as he wished her goodnight and went to bed.

Emma took the storybook to her room, tucking it away in the wardrobe where it couldn't hurt anyone. The irony wasn't ignored. Laying over blankets, she released a long breath and knew sleep would be a struggle.

Henry and Liam were Emma's light. Her eldest son reminded her that night why hope was so important. Closing her eyes, Emma pictured their family in her mind until memories burned through her heart. She imagined her parent's smile, Killian's arched eyebrow, and Regina's unamused scoff. Emma remembered each dwarf, the times spent at Granny's diner, and the day the curse broke. She missed everything all over again – each up and down, but also having someone to turn to.

Emma felt almost as lost as she had in Neverland.

Rolling onto her side, she concentrated on Neverland – on Killian Jones, and Liam's conception. Being a saviour and lost girl clouded her future, but her sons were the light and warmth that embodied the hope Emma chose to cling to. She'd expected turmoil and self-doubt to resurface after the overdue conversation with Henry, but Emma didn't allow her heart to dwell.

She needed to be as strong as her parents, Henry, and Killian believed her to be.

What came most unexpected that night was Liam's increased distress. As time ticked over midnight, the four-month-old cried out so loudly Emma thought she'd magicked herself to the nursery in panic. His little face red and scrunched, Liam wailed and refused to settle. Henry, woken as worriedly as Emma, cuddled his brother on the couch and tried to soothe him.

It worked for a while. Henry told Liam (with Emma's help) about Killian Jones being a heroic pirate who saved lost boys and sailed an awesome ship. The little boy unhappily listened, making sounds and poking Henry's face in unrest.

'Ba,' Liam said, patting Henry's cheek.

'I think that's his name for you,' Emma said, watching her boys from the kitchen where she prepared a bottle of milk.

'Ba?' Henry frowned. 'It doesn't sound anything like "Henry".'

'Bada,' Liam said.

'Brother?' Emma suggested with a smile.

'Wow.' Henry grinned, sitting toddler in his lap. 'I can't wait for him to walk and talk.'

Liam squirmed again, whining. Henry held his brother close, telling stories to keep the boy calm. When it failed, Henry walked around the apartment trying to distract Liam with lights outside the window or their potted plants.

'Is he okay?' Henry stressed. 'Maybe he's sick or something?'

Emma tensed, stomach twisting at the thought. She hadn't considered it, and was ashamed for not realising he might be upset for a bigger reason.

'Da,' Liam whined loudly, reaching for the window's glass. 'Dada.'

Emma stilled. Henry thought nothing of it, but she felt cold and unnerved. She gathered Liam in her arms to feed him, and Henry dragged himself back to bed. Emma convinced herself either the sound meant nothing or she'd imagined it.

Liam drank his milk but his mood didn't end there. He whined and cried, fighting Emma as she changed his diaper to check she hadn't overlooked something simple. Heart racing in her chest, Emma endured a long process of elimination – even changing his pyjamas twice in case it helped. He spat his pacifier in her face, kicked at Henry when he re-emerged to help, and wailed his lungs hoarse.

Emma was exhausted, mentally and physically, by the time Henry punched couch cushions in frustration.

'What am I doing wrong?' she pleaded with her sobbing baby, rocking him and trying to keep herself together. 'Are you sick?' Emma checked his forehead but he felt fine. She had no reference for it, but her instincts told her Liam wasn't in pain.

She carried him to the apartment window, feeling boxed in with a screaming baby and irritable pre-teen. Emma watched the dancing lights of New York, trying to encourage Liam to do the same, and noticed absolute darkness in the starless sky. Clouds gathered to add illumination to street lamps, but no thunder rumbled or lightning flashed.

The air was cold and tickled across Emma's skin in a familiar way; had the storybook's magic disturbed Liam somehow?

'Shhh,' Emma pressed her cheek to his blond head, as her boy whimpered and fussed. 'It's okay, kid. You're safe; Mama's here and nothing's going to happen to you.'

Liam sniffled, tiny hands patting her, and quietened.

Passing Henry, who'd fallen asleep on the couch, she returned to the nursery. Sitting tiredly in the rocking chair, Emma rubbed Liam's back and hummed a random tune. He whined and leaned back, striking blue eyes meeting her green ones. Emma's heart slowed to a less-panicked rhythm. She tried to lose herself in her baby's gaze, suffocating the guilt and anger directed at herself for not knowing why he was so upset.

'Mama's still learning,' Emma whispered, gently kissing his forehead. 'But I love you so much, Liam. I won't let anything happen to you. Your Dad wouldn't either, if he was here.' She believed in the best of Killian while holding their son securely in her embrace, allowing the warmth of her love to fill them both.

'Ma,' Liam said, relaxing. His mouth widened with a yawn, and tiny fingers traced her chin as Emma's heart skipped a beat in awe. 'Mama.'

Across the city, in a flourish of purple and green magic, a leather-clad pirate was unceremoniously dropped on the damp grass of a park. Checking his limbs remained intact, Killian Jones frowned at the night sky. He was glad to love a challenge because was presented with a big one: find Emma Swan somewhere in the whole of New York.


Author's Notes: It was always going to be this chapter, but Killian has officially entered the story! Who's excited? Thank you for your patience and continued support of this fic so far, it means so much.