This chapter is dedicated to Lifeinthewoods, whose real-life experiences inspired a following section. You'll know when you get to it, my friend. Thinking about you and sending warm thoughts…

Beta-read by the adroit lethemoirai.

And thanks to Commandante Theresa for her ideas on how to wrap this beast up!

Previously, In An Age Cannot Sate Love:

While Killian is away, Emma dates Neal during college. She gets pregnant just before graduation, and Neal leaves her after meeting August. She gives birth to Henry with her mother by her side. By the time Killian returns, another two years has passed. He appears on her doorstep with no warning, and never leaves. This chapter picks up just after the previous one.

A/N Everything in italics is a memory of what Emma sees through the door of time. Anything in real time is not italicized, as happens when a scene is given from Killian's point of view. Everyone voted unanimously for more glimpses into their lives, so that's what we have, quick glimpses. Enjoy!

Chapter 37: Neither Can Eternity Extinguish It

Elizabeth Jamison's quiet laughter bubbled in from the living room as she watched Henry play cars on the rug with Killian, their "zoom-zooms" lively and cheerful. The sounds filled the silence like the soap bubbles filled the sink as Emma and her father washed the dinner dishes. Her father had been quiet throughout the evening, and she had been overly aware of his careful study of Killian's interactions with Henry and with her.

When Jamison finally spoke, his voice was so soft she had to lean sideways to hear him. "I don't need to tell ye I don' think a man exists on this earth that'd be good enough for ye." Emma looked up from the dish she was drying, her father's expression indicating he felt perfectly justified in his opinions.

His comment was to be expected given his narrow-lipped reactions to Neal and to the occasional man she mentioned over the dinner table. She had dated since Neal, although not extensively, since few men her age wanted the responsibility that came with a single mother.

"But I'll admit the cap'n comes mighty close," he muttered almost begrudgingly, his mustache tweaking sideways with the admission.

Setting the plate aside, Emma wrapped her arms around her father's waist, the niggling fear of his possible disapproval evaporating. Nudging his elbow over her neck, he tugged her into his side, his head bending to place a kiss on her hair. "I love ye, lil' one."

The flannel of his shirt was soft against her cheek as she nodded. It had been a long time since he'd called her that, a long time since she'd wanted or needed his approval on something so big.

"Does Mom know?" she asked when they'd broken apart and continued washing.

She didn't have to clarify. Jamison knew exactly what she meant as usual, picking up the vein of her thoughts as adeptly as he always had. "You mean how old we really are?" he replied with another twitch of his mustache.

"Yeah," she grinned, trying to imagine her gentle mother's reaction. A mother who could be very vocal and opinionated when given the chance, but who was otherwise as sweet as they came.

"Nay, lass. And I'm not likely to tell 'er." He wrung the dish cloth and rinsed his hands, reaching for the towel Emma held to dry them, and then turned to rest against the sink while watching his wife through the doorway.

"Has she read the story?"

He shook his head. "I once tried to say something, asked her what she thought about traveling through portals as it were." The wry shake of his head told Emma the conversation hadn't gone well. "No, yer muther is a verra practical woman, and not likely to change. I'll not have 'er upset unnecessarily."

"But you don't mind my knowing."

He exhaled heavily through his nose and his lips tightened so much half his mustache curled into his mouth. "Hmpf. I gave ye the book, but I didna tell ye the story was true," he admitted, as if disappointed in himself. "Nay, I worrit ye might look at me differently. But then I realized regardless of how ye saw me, Cap'n's been rewriting your history for a long time, and it wasna my place to intervene." He pressed his hands into the counter at his back, still staring straight ahead.

Emma finished her chore and mimicked his position, following his line of sight. Killian looked up and momentarily raised his brows in her direction, never missing a beat in whatever he was telling her mother.

"That's just it, Dad. I've lived another life? A whole life that's been completely changed? I can't wrap my head around the Emma in the story, the one whose past was so difficult. She would have been through so many experiences to make her into the woman Killian fell in love with. How can I ever measure up?"

He turned toward her. "Is that what ye're worrit aboot?"

"How can I not be? I know what he says…" She paused, her face heating up under his gaze, "but sometimes I catch him looking at me sadly, and I can't figure why."

"Have ye asked him? It's not like the cap'n to avoid difficult questions. Not at our age." One side of his mouth turned up into a half-grin, and he bumped her shoulder, lessening her fears with the companionable touch. No matter what happened, her father would be there for her.

It took her a moment to realize he was right. "No. I haven't." The simple confession blew her worries away like a deep breath calms anxiety. Killian was most definitely not Neal, and wouldn't ignore her fears or avoid a conversation about their future.

"Lass." Her father reached for her, his long arms wrapping all the way around her body in a protective cocoon. "I spent a couple of days with ye in the other timeline. Ye weren't much different than ye are now. Perhaps a bit jumpier, but that was understandable given the situation. 'Twas easy to see why the Cap'n fell in love wit' ye then, and no less now."

Emma stood in the kitchen and hugged her father, unable to imagine her life in that other timeline without him. He and her mother had been her anchors for so long, and now with Killian by her side, she could have a family just like the one that had raised her.

====o0I0o====

Two days ago Killian had knocked on Emma's door with his heart in his hands, the apprehension of six years of waiting making it difficult to stand still while she answered it. Now he lounged on her couch as though he'd never been away, holding her in his arms while his fingers traced her soft skin, blankly staring at the flashing images on the television screen. Henry had fallen asleep on the car ride home from Jamison's and was already in bed.

He had done it. He had managed to survive 300 years of waiting for his true love. But as he sat on the brink of their life together, a tiny frisson of disquiet threatened his newfound euphoria, so much so that if he could, he would squeeze their little family into a bottle and toss it in the ocean where they would ride the waves of life locked together, forever. Playing cars with Henry, chatting with Elizabeth while Emma spoke with Jamison after a delightful family supper was every bit the normal life Killian had coveted since the bastardized version of it during the curse, added to the memories of his life as Captain Hook married to Emma in the alternate timeline.

At least he had time; Smee would look after the ship with Robin's help for repairs if necessary—Robin was eternally grateful to Killian for saving Roland and him from the curse—so Killian was free to remain with Emma in Portland indefinitely, until he had to bring her to Storybrooke on her 28th birthday.

"Is this what you want?" Emma asked abruptly. "I mean, you asked me what I wanted, but what about you?" There was worry in her voice even though she did her best to sound casual.

"Why do you ask?"

Emma pushed up, turning to face him. "Don't get me wrong, it's been a weekend of bliss, but I have to think about Henry. He adores you… already." A tiny smile adorned her lovely face, but her eyes were sad. "And if you decide a boring life in the city isn't what you want, the heartbreak won't be good for him."

She was a good mother; he had told her so his first night there, and spending the weekend with her only solidified his opinion into a conclusion.

"Not good for Henry, or for you?" he goaded, never tiring of hearing how she felt about him. He held her eyes for a long moment, and he knew it was bad form to tease her when she was serious, but he couldn't help trying to put a smile on her beautiful face.

She beheld him with a skeptical brow, her lips surrendering to a partial grin. "You know exactly what I mean, captain." She turned serious again, her eyes shying away, her fingers tightening around the hem of her shirt as she straightened it. "You've lived an adventure that only happens in dreams, and I'm… well, me. This is my life, every day, every weekend. The occasional outing to the park or the toy store is about as exciting as it gets… Really, is this what you want?"

He didn't mean for his laugh to bark out the way it did, to sound as though he weren't taking her seriously. Her cheeks turned rosy, indicating that's exactly how she'd taken it.

Untangling her fingers from her shirt, he smoothed her hands flat beneath his. "Emma, love, you'd be surprised at how dull waiting can be." He tugged her back into his arms, the idea of being able to hold her as such without having to leave in a few days filling him with even more excitement than the anticipation of their first meeting all those years ago.

"And if you remember, I spent more than half a year living with you in the cursed Storybrooke. We woke up, went to work, came home, prepared supper and retired to the couch, much like we are now," he added.

"And it was enough?" Her words were tentative, seeking affirmation.

"Well…"

She started to raise her head in alarm, but he pushed her back down with a quiet chuckle, continuing to rub up and down her spine until her body relaxed under his touch. "Aye, it was enough, lass. During the curse I learned that we didn't need constant adventure to keep our relationship going. I was as content with you in quiet as I was when we faced something fearsome."

"Oh," she sighed into his chest.

He knew it was hard for her to comprehend what he had endured while waiting for her. And he also knew she trusted him and Jamison more than she believed their story. But it was more than enough, for now.

====o0I0o====

The day was clear and warm, a breeze blowing across the backyard of her childhood home. Friends and extended family surrounded them, including several of Killian's crew members that she'd met only a handful of times. Henry and her mother stood off to the side, Elizabeth's hands curling over his tiny shoulders to keep him in place until they should need the rings. They stood under a handmade arbor, fashioned by her father and darkly stained, wound with long-stemmed coral-colored roses. Killian wore a white tuxedo shirt with no jacket and his black boots—in case she should forget who she was marrying, he said. Her white dress swooped over one shoulder to a fitted bodice, then hung straight in several layers of delicate chiffon. She loved her dress; it made her feel like a princess.

"I, Killian Jones, take thee Emma Jamison, to be my lawful wife. To have and to hold… tightly and often," he said under his breath, and actually smirked in the middle of his vows, "from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, beyond death and time." He winked at her, having changed the traditional 'til death do us part', his expression speaking of centuries of memories. Emma was struck once again with the realization that she had never done anything to deserve this kind of love, but she set her mind to spending the rest of her life being worthy of it.

"I, Emma Jamison, take thee Killian Jones, to be my lawful husband, to have and to hold…" she paused, smiling widely and mouthing 'tightly and often,' " from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, beyond death and time."

Her words echoed Killian's rather than the minister's, ringing out like the kind of promise that made smiles falter and throats swallow thickly. It was a vow that held weight, and everyone there knew it. Emma shivered at the same time as Killian, binding themselves to each other in this world and the next.

The minister cleared his throat, most likely to begin the ring exchange, but Killian tugged on her hands, keeping her attention on him.

"I've lived my entire life on the water since before I came of age. The only times I've lived as a landlubber has been with you." His blue eyes twinkled with playfulness, and he dipped his head to kiss the backs of both her hands. "Emma Swan Jamison, I don't miss the ocean when you're near."

She knew exactly what he meant. Delicately removing her hand from his, she swiped at the gathering tears underneath her eyes, careful not to smudge her mascara. "Killian Jones, we won't mention how long I've been in love with you, but let's just say I'm glad you never decided to adopt me."

"The thought never entered my mind, love." He grinned and gave her a look she hoped no one else recognized, her cheeks blooming under his indecent gaze.

She squeezed his hands and lifted up to give him a kiss, eternally grateful for the way her life had played out.

"Not yet!" the minister exclaimed. Happy chuckles surrounded them like a buoyant wind and she smiled at her handsome man, dark hair blowing in the breeze, his white shirt practically glowing against the hair peeking from his open collar.

They exchanged rings, the gold warm against her cool fingers. Killian's eyes lingered on the bands, as if in remembrance of another time, of the culmination to lifetimes of love.

====o0I0o====

Emma stood in the hallway of the door of time, chasing one door after another as they opened and closed more quickly now, her memories filling in the details between scenes. One image was of Killian and a four-year old Henry making breakfast, thinking she was still asleep even while she lurked around the corner of their hallway. Her hand hid her gentle laugh while Killian showed the boy how to pour pancakes, keeping an arm around his small waist to prevent his burning himself on the stove. "Tisit right, Pop?" her son asked, placing a floured handprint against Killian's face, leaving a white smudge on his dark beard. Killian nodded, blue eyes thickening slightly as he gazed upon the son he loved as his own.

There were memories of mornings grabbing a couple of pieces of toast and a cup of coffee from Killian's hands, a quick kiss before she hurried to bring Henry to school and head off to her job at the state police as head detective, Killian's hours as harbor master being more flexible. Of Friday night trips to the pizza parlor, pepperoni pizza and cokes all around, Killian holding Henry while they played pinball in the arcade portion, Emma and sometimes her parents their tiny cheering section. Of evening walks along the beach during the summer months, picking up hermit crabs and interesting shells, watching Henry chase the waves while she and Killian held hands.

They were obviously happy, and they rarely argued. If something came up, they would sit down and discuss it. And if either one of them was too angry, they committed to waiting for cooler heads to prevail before engaging the difficult conversations. But mostly, maneuvering life together was easy.

When the next door opened, as soon as Emma understood what was going on, she gasped in a cross between wonder and delight.

====o0I0o====

Killian Jones slouched against the headboard, his lower half covered by the blanket. It was Saturday night, Henry was already in bed, and he waited for Emma to emerge from the washroom, anticiptating whatever type of eccentric undergarment she had been able to find for under $5. It was their monthly ritual, and she always managed to surprise him with the barmy textiles available in this land.

"Oi, Swan, come on then," he hollered from the bed, his wardrobe choice cutting into his nether regions.

She glided into the room wearing a ship captain's hat, white with a blue brim, and one he wouldn't be caught dead in. But his eyes didn't linger on her head, they continued sweeping downward, taking in the matching navy blue nightgown, transparent and sparkling with each shift of her skin like the sun glinting off the waves on a beautiful day. "Bloody hell," he mumbled. She must have rejected eccentric in favor of gorgeous and deliberately arousing. Every muscle in his body tightened in sinful anticipation. She stopped just shy of the bed, green eyes shining with barely-concealed excitement, when he finally noticed she was holding something behind her back.

"I have something to tell you," she chimed, her voice gliding over his skin like the nightgown over hers, and he would give anything to have more than just her voice doing such things to his body.

He hid his smile, even while loving the torment of delay, how taking their time was sometimes better than rapidly disrobing and getting down to business. "What is it then, I'm feeling rather impatient, love," he demanded in a mock-stern voice, lowering his brows but unable to completely keep the corners of his mouth from turning up.

She pulled a white plastic stick from behind her back, wiggling it back and forth between her fingers. "Know what this is?"

A memory suddenly flooded his mind, of a furious and hurt Emma emerging from their cursed Storybrooke bathroom holding an identical stick. His heart immediately seized as he realized what she was saying, and he couldn't help but search her face, making sure she felt the same as he did. They hadn't exactly been trying for a baby, but they hadn't been preventing either.

The discomfort from his wardrobe choice was completely forgotten. "It's…"

"Yeah, Captain," she purred, fingering the brim of the hat, "looks like you're going to have another crewman."

He threw back the covers and grabbed her, and was about to pull her against his body, just to alleviate the sudden chasm his heart had created moments ago when it escaped his chest to go and fuse with hers. A child. Their child.

But her hands splayed across his torso, stopping her forward motion; she pushed back, gaping downward in positive disbelief. "What are you even wearing?"

It took him a second to gather his thoughts with the abrupt subject change, but he did, letting his elation carry over into an all-knowing smirk. By the look on her face, he knew he'd outdone himself with the thong in a plaid that rivaled the worst golfing trousers he'd ever had the misfortune to behold. Stepping off the bed, he spun around slowly, flexing every part of his naked backside in a popping rhythm. "Does it meet the lady's requirements?"

She curled into herself, hilarity overtaking her entire body until she collapsed onto the bed. And even though she presented a delicious picture, her laughter was too contagious, and he followed, no sound coming out of their mouths except the occasional gasp for breath.

He didn't think he could be happier. It was only later, when he held her in his arms, hand cupping her still-flat belly as they drifted off to sleep, that he wondered about another baby in another time.

====o0I0o====

The day was warm and beautiful, just like her mother. The collection of friends and family gathered around the gravesite in clothes that matched their moods. Tentative smiles and careful touches graced the assembly, and Emma almost felt sorry for everyone there. Everyone who didn't know what to do with their hands or what to say with their words.

She was sad, beyond sad if the truth be told, but she felt relieved too. Her mother had been sick for just under a year, and Emma had been able to walk with her through the cancer every step of the way. Those precious months had strengthened their relationship, her mother able to purge herself of her past joys as well as regrets. Their time together had been a gift, and Emma was glad her mother's suffering was at an end; it had been a very difficult journey. One of the few comforts she had was that Elizabeth had been able to meet Emma's second born son, Liam Aiden Jones, born two months previously.

She squeezed her dad's hand as the minister likened death to another step in the journey and so on, words meant to comfort the grieving. Jamison would most likely take her mother's death the hardest, and she was determined to be with him as much as possible. She and Killian already had plans to temporarily relocate to her family home, just so Jamison wouldn't be alone.

Ever practical, Jamison agreed.

====o0I0o====

They never did return to their apartment, and by the time her 28th birthday rolled around, Henry six years old and Liam one, they all piled up in the yellow Volkswagon her dad had bought her for graduation. With Jamison following in his truck, they crossed the Storybrooke line.

====o0I0o====

Killian had told her that the short-haired teacher was her actual mother, even though the tiny woman looked her age or at most one year older, and that the blond headed man who worked at the animal shelter was her father. She definitely favored the man's looks. It was difficult to think of him as her father yet, not when she already had one, or one that seemed to be almost avoiding her. Jamison had ensconced himself on the Jolly Roger as though he'd never left and rarely came out.

Several of the residents were welcoming and kind, and others, like the mayor, somewhat abrasive. Killian gave Emma a rundown of the situation, of Regina Mills having cast a curse over the Enchanted Forest, robbing everyone of their happy endings while hopefully securing her own. From what Emma could tell though, the mayor certainly hadn't found hers yet. However, if the chemistry sparking between the mayor and Robin Hood was any indication, she might be well on her way to finding one.

They secured an apartment soon after arriving, dealing with the creepy Mr. Gold, whose eyes seemed to follow her with interest even while they followed Killian with the look of near-recognition. Killian of course knew exactly who he was, the ex-husband of his former, albeit short-lived, paramour, as well as the Dark One and the man on whom his alter-ego sought revenge.

Emma secured a job as a deputy at the sheriff's station, working under Graham Humbert. He was kind but somewhat aloof, almost depressed, his mood corresponding to the rest of the town's. The sooner she could break the curse, the better.

====o0I0o====

"I jes don' think 'e's capable of anythin' other than bein' a lily-livered sorry excuse fer a man!" Jamison nearly shouted. "Who cheats on his wife and can't stand up fer anythin'?" he growled.

"To be fair, Jamison, the man is cursed. Surely you understand that," Killian said. "And he's her father. You simply cannot continue to stand in the way of Emma getting to know the man!"

Killian stood on the opposite side of the bar in the tight galley, hoping to convince Jamison to cease the brooding that kept Emma skittish around her adoptive father, even while she tried to get to know her biological.

"I've done nothin' of the sort. I keep to meself on this here ship, scrubbin' and fixin' after the years of indifference…" Jamison eyed Killian narrowly, charging him with the crime of neglecting his ship for far too long. Killian merely stared back, waiting for Jamison to realize the truth.

Jamison took a deep breath and turned around, gripping the wooden counter as he accepted responsibility for his actions, visibly bringing himself back under control.

Placing a hand on his back, Killian drew his friend's gaze. "I know how hard this is without Elizabeth."

Jamison softened, shoulders sagging further if that were possible. "Aye, I know ye do. It helps. I jes don' think I can lose Emma too."

There it was, Jamison's real fear. "You're not losing Emma, old friend. But you taught her to love and accept people, and to want to help. This entire town is stranded in the middle of a curse that Emma has to break. And kissing Henry like she did in the other timeline is obviously no longer an option. She believes that getting to know some of the residents will help her find a way. And that starts with her parents. I promise, once the curse is broken, you'll come to appreciate David's mettle; he's not himself at the moment."

Jamison nodded and stepped away from Killian's touch, busying himself with chopping carrots for what was likely to be a big pot of delicious stew. "I'll manage, Cap'n," he gruffed.

Killian left him alone with his thoughts, visiting his cabin to continue the process of clearing out and moving his more beloved keepsakes to his home. Jamison understood the situation, and that would have to be enough for now. Once the curse was broken, he planned on stocking the Jolly Roger and taking his family and best friend on a mini-excursion to clear their minds of the oppressiveness that draped over the town like the low-hanging clouds of a very bad storm.

====o0I0o====

"David!" Emma screamed, running her hands over his chest, searching for injuries. They had finally found him in the forest, half-buried under a pile of leaves, his lips blue from the cold. He still had a pulse, but it was faint. Emma had seen the pallor of death before, and although she no longer recoiled from it, the look of it on the man whose face she shared filled her with fear.

Killian was by her side in seconds, part of the second search party formed after Mary Margaret had been implicated in David's disappearance, since the entire town knew David had dumped her in his quest to try and rekindle his marriage. A knife had been found in Mary Margaret's apartment, supposedly wiped clean of blood, although the lab tests confirmed residual cells matching David's DNA. Emma didn't believe it for a second, but had to follow the letter of the law until it could be disproved.

Using her cell phone to dial the ambulance, Killian removed David's overcoat and replaced it with his own warmer one. The search party was called off and several residents helped carry David's body out of the forest where they could meet the ambulance at the roadside.

Nights in hospitals stretched out interminably, Emma knew from experience, but she never left her father's side. It was odd to think of him that way, odd when Jamison had always occupied that title in her mind. If anything, David was more like an older brother. She had been drawn to him from the first, having liked his small jokes and easy ways.

David had confided in her about his feelings for Mary Margaret, stuck in his loveless marriage but unsure how to remove himself from its confines the way a gentleman would. She tried to encourage him to follow his heart, fully understanding the happiness that awaited him. But it wasn't his way; he was too worried about hurting anyone. In some ways, he reminded her of her dad, the way his presence in a room was always sensed, even if the man never spoke a word.

And as if the similarities couldn't bear to end there, Mary Margaret, Henry's teacher, was much like her own mother, dark-haired and beautiful, kind and gentle to a fault. She and Emma had met for coffee several times, at first to discuss Henry's transitioning into a new school, and then because they had so much in common. She had fast become one of Emma's favorite people.

Dr. Whale entered the hospital room as he made his morning rounds, a clipboard hanging loosely from his side. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing to be done for him. I've run every test I can think of. There's no physical reason for him to be in a coma, yet he is."

"How long?" Emma croaked, her voice scratchy from disuse. Killian had gone home hours ago to tend to the children, leaving her with a kiss and an admonishment to get some rest if she could.

"There's no way to know. His brain patterns indicate he's in an extended period of deep sleep, but as you can see, he's impossible to wake up."

As soon as the words left Dr. Whale's mouth, Emma felt her stomach drop to her toes. This was the magic Killian had been telling her about for years, magic she had accepted as being part of his life, but never quite believed was possible. Did true love's kiss even exist? Killian said it was strong enough to break any curse, and it was entirely possible David had been cursed.

Her nerves tingled all over her body. Would he awaken and prove that magic was real? Or as she feared, would nothing whatsoever happen? Did she love David enough to do this?

One thing was sure, she had nothing to lose.

Stepping over to his bedside, Emma gently brushed the hair from his cool forehead, lowering her head to place a gentle kiss on his brow. "I love you, dad," she whispered, and meant it.

The resulting whoosh of energy nearly threw her, the attending nurse, and a watching Whale backward. It was early morning, and the gray clouds instantly cleared, bright sunlight streaming through the half-closed blinds of the window.

Emma didn't realize she was watching the play of colors outside until she heard David's voice. "Emma?"

He was sitting up, Dr. Whale looking wide-eyed around the room before darting off. "Snow!" David suddenly gasped.

He moved quickly, pulling on a jacket over his hospital gown, dragging pants over his legs. "I have to get to her!" he cried, stopping just long enough to cup Emma's cheek before bounding out of the room.

Emma's smile followed him from the room, wonder accompanying a peaceful satisfaction. Her husband had been right about magic all along; she should have never harbored a doubt. In future, she would be certain not to.

====o0I0o====

As David raced out of the hospital room and the door began to close on the scene, Emma's mind played a cascade of memories filling in the missing information. Regina had poisoned David in one last attempt to keep Snow and Charming apart. Several interrogations with the broken queen revealed her raging guilt over stealing her subjects' happy endings, especially with the possibility of her own happy ending so near. That guilt spurred her to embrace her evil self, since she could never hope to deserve the family Robin and Roland embodied.

Another door on the right opened up, Emma stepping toward it as she considered the implications of gaining Regina's cooperation much sooner in the new timeline than she had in the other. Emma didn't serve as competition for Henry's affections in this timeline, giving the two women time to build a relationship out of respect.

Turning the corner and lifting her head to view the noisy scene, Emma gripped the door frame. Killian threw a bean at the floor just as the wraith approached, the swirling cloud sucking the black body into the center of its mass. And just the same as Emma remembered, she was sucked into the portal as well. But rather than her mother jumping in to follow her, Killian hurled himself into the maelstrom, headfirst.

The portal closed and the next scene showed them waking with groans at the point of Mulan's sword, Aurora standing off to the side and looking uncomfortable. Mulan tied them to the back of a horse and made them walk the long distance to their camp.

What made Emma nearly laugh at the altered memory was that her younger counterpart railed into Killian the entire walk, furious with him for not staying behind to look after their children. He listened for a long while, calmly seeming to consider her words.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" angry Emma asked, keeping herself as far away from her husband as possible.

Although her younger self didn't seem to notice, Aurora and Mulan exchanged a couple of looks that suggested maybe they were wrong for taking them prisoner, although they were enjoying the mostly one-sided argument.

"Relax," Killian stated.

"That's it?!"

"Emma. Between Mary Margaret and two doting grandfathers, our progeny are likely to think they're on the best holiday ever. So aye, love, relax. We have bigger problems. Besides, if it's any consolation, we've been through worse." He winked at her, looking as though he didn't have a care in the world.

Emma Jones smiled from the doorway, knowing now that Killian most definitely spoke the truth. They had been through worse, several times. And they had endured and conquered it all.

Later, it would be Killian who insisted on traveling to the top of the beanstalk to retrieve the compass with the notorious Captain Hook, whose ship was called "Milah's Revenge."

Aright, me hardies, only one chapter left to tie everything together! Hope you've enjoyed this journey as much as I have. I love hearing from you all—I can't tell you how many times I've read through reviews to keep the spark of writing alive. Pop me a line if you can. XXOO, ~DD