Author's Notes: Hi, all. I'm alive.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 36

A year passed without incident.

Okay, that was a lie, but no one died so Emma was calling it a win.

There'd been a trip to Atlantis, another smuggling venture in Narnia, and a brief stint in a prison in a realm that had suspiciously looked like Rivendell. Oh, and a long adventure with Jack and Elizabeth about the Fountain of Youth that ended with no one immortal and all of them nearly dead. She shouldn't have been so thrilled by it all, but Emma had become a pirate in the purest form and lo and behold it was exactly who she was meant to be.

"Swan?"

She groaned and buried her face deeper into the pillow.

"Swan?"

Killian's voice was teasing and he trailed a fingertip over her ticklish ribs. She groaned louder to hide her laugh and turned further into the bedding. Killian laughed.

"Emma."

She sighed. "What," she mumbled.

"Time to get up."

"Is not."

"It's noon."

"It's my birthday. I do what I want."

"I regret telling you that."

"Can't take it back, buddy."

His lips were suddenly on her bare shoulder. Oh, that was hardly fair. She cracked open an eye to see his hand planted like a tree by her pillow. Her eyes trailed up his arm. His bare arm. To his shoulder, and . . .

"Oh my god, are you naked?"

"So I am. So are you. It's fate."

"Oh my god."

"Happy birthday."

Emma finally cracked and laughed, opening both eyes and turning just as Killian settled atop her, blue eyes shining with mischief. She stared up at him, slowly shaking her head. "You're so stupid," she said with a smile.

"You know, a lesser man would be put off by your strange compliments."

"Good to know you get me."

"Oh, I'll get you, Swan. I'll get you good."

There's a playfulness to their lovemaking that comes with age and intimacy and the simple passing of time. Nothing was new anymore. The passion had settled into steadfast embers rather than a roaring flame. Emma didn't mind. She liked the familiarity. She liked the deep affection that burned through the lust. And she liked laughing during sex.

She was still giggling as she came down from her orgasm, thighs still twitching and her womb still dancing. Killian hummed as he gathered her in his arms, pulling her to him until she was laying across his chest and he could easily bury his nose in her hair and nibble the shell of her ear if he felt inclined. Turns out he did.

Emma laughed again and swatted his side. "Stop it."

"No."

Killian smirked before holding her tight and flipping her over so that their positions were reversed. Her surprised squeal brought a grin to his face and a deep sense of satisfaction and contentment. He stared down at her, blonde hair fanned out over the pillow, green eyes sparkling up at him, and felt his grin melt into something tender. He lightly brushed her hair back.

"Four years," he murmured. "Can you believe it, Swan?"

Emma shook her head. "Not a bit," she said. "Feels like longer and no time at all." She gently traced the scar on his cheek. "Who would have thought I'd go from bailbonds person to pirate?"

"I always knew you were a pirate," Killian said smugly. "Moment I saw you in that tavern."

"You were cocky."

"I was charming."

"Is that what you call it?"

"Hmm."

He kissed her, and she let herself get lost in the comfort of his lips. She kissed his jaw. Her hands slid through his hair. "What's the plan, Captain?" she asked.

"Plan? What plan?"

"My birthday."

"Is that today?"

She slapped his arm and he laughed. "Well," he sighed as he fell to the side, taking her with him so that her head rested on his chest and his hand settled on her hip. "I suppose we'll start with a bit of shopping . . ."

Emma listened with growing excitement and wonder as Killian explained all that he had planned for her. It was only the second time they were celebrating her birthday. Well, to the extent that Killian felt she deserved anyway. Her first birthday aboard the Jolly had passed with little fanfare, considering that no one had known about it until weeks later when it happened to come up. Killian had been so flustered he'd nearly been angry that he'd missed it and had spent the next week lavishing her with gifts until she finally hit him and told him to cut it out.

She was slightly more gracious during her second birthday aboard the Jolly. She let Killian host a party on deck not unlike the feast they'd held after rescuing Elizabeth from the Locker, and the night had ended much the same—her and Killian drunk and naked. Two things she loved and thought went well together no matter what day.

But Killian had always wanted to do more. If they were in her world, she had no doubt that he would pull out balloons, streamers, fireworks, and one of those stupidly big cakes with all the requisite candles. There would be music and dancing and more gifts than Christmas. It would have been everything that Emma had always dreamed of as a little girl, and it was for that reason that she didn't let Killian celebrate like he wanted.

Despite having lived for years in something of a fairytale, Emma still had times when she felt like the Ugly Duckling—that abandoned, friendless orphan girl who no one loved or wanted. It was a part of her she would never shake, and she knew that. Killian knew that. He understood that. And Emma thought it was because he understood that he wanted to make up for every birthday never celebrated. All those days in foster homes when she didn't even get a card while she watched her classmates rent out bounce houses and arcades.

Only last year had she allowed Killian to do whatever he wished, and he'd surprised her by doing the last thing she expected. There was no big party, no pile of expensive gifts. They dropped the crew off at Tortuga and sailed to a tiny rum runner's island where they drank port and made love on the beach to the sound of the waves and the fire crackling on shore. She'd surprised herself that night when she'd begun to wonder if he would ask her to marry him, and when morning came and there was no ring, she'd felt a brief pang of disappointment.

There'd been a few moments like that. A romantic dinner. A walk on the beach. A pearl necklace instead of a ring in a jewelry box. She thought he was working up to it, testing the waters like any good sailor, and she was glad. He'd promised her five years. Five years of adventure and piracy before they found an island, which was their own code for "settle down."

It struck her as interesting now, in hindsight, that she had been ready to have a child before getting married. Not that she thought a child out of wedlock was a big deal. Obviously not. But because somehow, strangely, marriage had seemed scarier. It was something she had never envisioned for herself. Even with Neal. Yet knowing Killian grounded the possibility in reality, firm and true, and she hadn't known what to do with it.

So in her typical way, she'd ignored it.

But ever since her last birthday, since the rum runner's island, Emma admitted that she'd been thinking about two damning words more than she thought she should.

"So, Swan, what do you say?" Killian's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "We can go ashore, haggle over presents you don't want me to buy, and then lunch at the Governor's mansion. Do you like the sound of that?"

She smiled. "I do."

And when the day ended with her wrapped in his arms once again, huddled in her crow's nest while they watched Bee's impressive fireworks explode in the sky, she knew that one day soon she would say those two words and mean it.

"Here's to another year, darling," Killian promised.

Emma couldn't wait.

It was months later, as Emma sat behind Killian's desk looking over a map of Corona to chart their next course, that a familiar worn journal next to her began to glow. Emma dropped her pencil in surprise. The journal had been a gift from Elizabeth, so long ago now, it felt like, right after her first meeting at the Brethren Court as a Pirate Lord. It was the magical equivalent of email, and Emma traded her pencil for a pen as she opened the book.

Emma,

It has been far too long since we last spoke. The fault lies with me, I believe. I have left a few of your letters unanswered, and for that I apologize. Jack got us trapped in a strange realm where everyone seemed to be running from their past. It was an odd little place, and I think it would have been slightly more familiar to you. There were tall buildings of stone and large machines that could do the work of ten men. Likely more. It was fascinating and terrifying all at once.

Naturally, you can imagine, I'd love to go back for a better look.

Unfortunately, I am not writing to you just to "chat" as you so often say. My friend, I am sorry to ask that you and Killian come to Shipwreck's Cove in the next fortnight. There is trouble brewing once again, and I find myself both as your friend and your King in need of your advice and reputation. I fear no upheaval. Nothing like the last time we met. However, I do expect some dissension, and yours and Killian's word will do well to quell the more timid of us.

Though, if you feel the need to show off your "fire fingers" I will never protest a good show.

Safe seas,

Elizabeth

She read the letter twice before turning the page and writing a quick response.

Liz,

It will take Killian and I a week to reach the Cove. Maybe we can use the extra time to discuss the trouble on the horizon? We should grab a drink without the boys. I want to hear more about this strange, unfinished world.

Your friend,

Emma

Shipwreck Cove was exactly as Killian remembered it—cold, dark, and forbidden. The crags seemed sharper than he last time he'd seen them, and the ocean spray climbed the cliff face like hungry white fingers. The air felt heavy and thick and smelled sweet. A storm was brewing.

He cursed.

"I don't like it, Swan," he said as they walked along the dock. It had been repaired in their absence but already looked weathered. "Nothing good ever comes from this place."

"Elizabeth didn't sound too concerned," Emma said. "I don't think there's anything to worry about."

"I have no fond memories of this place."

"I do." She smiled up at him. "You told me you loved me."

"Yes. And then you got shot, if I remember."

She shrugged. "It happens."

Killian chuckled unwillingly as they wound through the dark halls. They paused at their rooms that had been prepared for them. Dark walls but soft bedding Emma didn't think they would use at all. She took a moment to fix her hair in the mirror, change into a clean shirt, and then followed Killian as he led them into town.

She'd never seen the pirate port beyond the winding dark halls of the Brethren Court cut into the cliffs. The actual town was above ground but not much different from the stone tunnels she knew. It was nothing like Tortuga. The Cove was quiet. She could hear the waves beating the rocks below and the shouts of sailors tying the moors. Voices were soft. Business was done. There was no fighting, no shouting.

It gave Emma the tense feeling she'd always felt attending church. Forced quietness. Condemned air.

"Is it always like this?" she asked as they walked toward the doors of the Wicked Wench. It was one of only two taverns in the Cove. "I thought it would be . . . louder."

"The Cove is as close to hallowed ground as it gets for us pirates," Killian explained, his voice low. "It was meant originally as a safe haven, a place where pirates could gather without fear of repercussions, but that has changed over the years. The Cove became a throne to be fought over. This is as peaceful as it's been in years."

"Because of Elizabeth."

"She has been King for ten years. It's a record."

"What was the record?"

"A year, I believe."

"Oh."

"This way, Swan."

The Wicked Wench was sparsely filled but much nicer than any pirate tavern Emma had stepped foot in. The tables were nice and sturdy, scuffed but not rickety. The chairs still had all their arms and the glass that held her rum was actually clean. Almost shiny.

Elizabeth and Jack were in the back at a table bigger than the rest, and the chairs had padded cushions. Emma had the feeling it was as close to a throne as Elizabeth would allow. The Pirate King rose when she spotted them and greeted them with a wide, child-like smile.

"Emma!" There was no hug, but Elizabeth grasped both her arms and squeezed. "It is good to see you."

Emma smirked. "Nice to see you, too. The last time I saw you, you were running from the locals."

"I've never met such a violent native people!"

"I thought they were quite lovely, as it were," Jack said in his usual charming way. He winked at Emma. "Other Swan."

Emma and Elizabeth rolled their eyes at the same time. Elizabeth tossed her head in her lover's direction. "Jack only says that because somehow he convinced them that he was their god made manifest and they worshipped him."

Killian cocked an eyebrow. "Funny god."

"Oi!"

"Then they decided to eat him to gather the strength from his flesh," Elizabeth said then added drolly, "I was going to be the l'apperitif."

"You looked lovely in coconuts, darling."

"I'll never forgive you for that."

Jack laughed before throwing his arms out. "Sit and have a drink," he said. "Lizzie wants to catch up, and I've got nothing better to do."

When Emma had still been in the Land Without Magic—she had stopped thinking of it as home some time ago—she had always looked down at the couples in fancy restaurants that always seemed to divide into chatty stereotypes. The men would laugh loudly and drink and talk about nothing, while the women huddled together and whispered and occasionally giggled.

How fucking hilarious that she was a part of it now.

She could hear Killian and Jack talking about absolutely nothing in particular. Aside from their ships, the sea, and how majestic they were at the helm. They were comparing their compasses, and Emma hoped they kept the comparison there. Elizabeth followed her gaze and snickered, her tricorn hat slipping a little over her eyes, and she shoved it back up.

"Men," she said simply.

"Aye," Emma agreed. "Idiots."

They both giggled.

Emma took another sip of rum. She had no idea what her count was, but she thought she was at least five drinks in and the night was still young. "So," she said. "How are things?"

"With me and Jack?" Elizabeth tossed back her rum. "He annoys me."

Emma laughed. "Still sailing on the Empress, then?"

Elizabeth usually sailed her own ship when she felt a bit too inclined to slip a sword between Jack's ribs.

"Yes," she said, only to sigh—never in fondness, only exasperation—as she looked over at Jack. "But I miss the Pearl."

"Just the ship?"

"Shut up." She looked at Emma over the rim of her glass. "And you?" she asked. "How are things?"

"Perfect."

Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow before grinning widely. "Why Emma, do you have something to tell me?"

"No."

"Well why the bloody fuck not? What's the wanker waiting for?"

"I don't know. The right moment?"

"I should've intervened years ago. Where's my pistol?"

"I'll not have you threatening him to marry me at gunpoint, Liz!" Emma whispered heatedly as she tried to not to laugh. "That takes the romance out of it, don't you think?"

"Romance? Emma Swan, what has he done to you?"

"So much."

"Naughty."

"Jealous."

"Never."

"Liar."

"Pirate."

They toasted and drank.

"Honestly, though, love," Elizabeth said as she refilled their glasses. "As happy as you seem, something haunts you."

Emma looked down. "I noticed the Jolie Rose was here."

Elizabeth frowned. "I wasn't aware you had a problem with Anna Maria."

"Not exactly."

"Well, don't look behind you, then."

Emma looked.

Milah noticed.

She looked like Emma remembered and yet more. She looked younger, as if she'd regained something – or perhaps found – a part of her childhood that she had lost. She stood taller, decked out in leather trousers and a corset over a white shirt with red trim. A brown coat hung over it all and she wore a feathered hat on her head that hid half of her face. Thick gold earrings tangled in her hair and even from where she sat with Elizabeth, Emma could see the sparkle and shine of the rings on Milah's fingers.

Milah looked like a Pirate Lord. It was flawless. It was honest.

It reminded Emma of Killian.

Yet there was a hesitance in Milah's eyes as she met Emma's gaze, then her shoulders squared and she began to move forward. Elizabeth took a blithe sip of rum as she watched. "Lovely," she said. "Free entertainment."

Emma glared at her. "Shut up, Liz."

Elizabeth tsked and took another drink. Milah offered her a brief nod once she reached the table. "Your Majesty," she said.

"Fuck that nonsense, love," Elizabeth said with a smile. "Sit. Have a drink."

"I don't wish to impose," Milah said as Emma kicked Elizabeth under the table, thinking that this must be what it was like to have an older sister. Bitch. Milah smiled faintly at Emma. "Emma, it's good to see you. Might I have a word?"

"Yeah." She turned as she stood, looking for Killian, only to frown when she saw that he and Jack had disappeared.

"They're over at the card tables," Elizabeth said as she got to her feet as well, bottle of rum in hand. "Where I will also be swindling them of everything they own."

Emma shook her head. "How do you sleep at night?"

"On silk sheets, naked and rolling in money." Elizabeth winked. "You should try it." She canted her head in Milah's direction. "If you'll excuse me."

Emma watched Elizabeth swagger over to the same card table where Jack and Killian sat. "She gets more like Jack every time I see her," she said. She looked at Milah and then gestured to the chair Elizabeth had vacated. "Might as well sit," she said.

Both women sat, and neither immediately spoke. Milah poured a drink while Emma finished hers. Finally, Emma asked, "How are you? Pirate life everything you thought it'd be?"

Milah smiled slightly. "And more," she replied. "And you? How is Killian?"

"We're fine."

More silence.

Milah sighed. "You still resent ferrying me away, don't you?"

"I regret everything that came with it."

"In some ways, so do I." Milah took a long sip of rum. "I can't believe it's been two years," she said. "I've seen so much, done so much. There are songs sung about me, the things I've done. I've known more respect in these two years at sea than I ever knew with Rumple. My whole life, really. I'm someone I'm proud of now."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"You mean that, don't you?"

"I've never disliked you, Milah."

"We've never been friends."

"I doubt we ever will be."

"I like that," Milah said. "In some ways, I don't think I've ever shared such an understanding with anyone."

"Nah," Emma denied. "We both just don't have time for bullshit."

Milah laughed and they toasted. Emma poured another round. Milah's smile faded as she took a sip. "I went back, you know," she said. "Home." She looked up, her eyes soft in a way that Emma remembered her talking about her son. "I told myself the day I left that I would come back. For Bae. I left him a letter, telling him what I'd done, what I planned." Milah looked away and took another drink. Her eyes fell to the table as she sighed. "I had it all sorted, Emma. Anna Maria was fine to bring him aboard, and you know how she loathes men."

Emma snorted. Anna Maria's distrust was rather legendary. "Yeah, I think everyone does," she said.

"She's not so bad, really," Milah said. "Once you get to know her." Emma's brow rose, hearing something in Milah's voice that made her wonder. Milah didn't comment, but she smiled a little into her drink. "I had it all sorted," she repeated. "Anna and I sailed into port. She even went with me. Walking in that village again . . . can you believe that no one recognized me? They all looked at me. At Anna. Like I remember people looking at you and Killian. As if we were something other and different. They wanted us to stay and they wanted us to never come back." Milah shook her head. "Anyway," she said. "I saw him. My Baelfire. He'd gotten so big. He was playing with the other boys. He looked happy. I'd . . . I didn't realize I'd forgotten just how brightly he smiled. I watched him all day. He's become such a man. He worked the fields and helped a girl carry her water back to her house." Milah looked at Emma then, almost plaintive. "And you know . . . I couldn't go to him. I stood and I watched and I smiled but I couldn't make myself move."

Milah looked away. "Anna stayed an extra day," she said. "Just out of kindness. But I couldn't . . . was it wrong for me to leave him?" she asked, turning back to Emma. "He was happy. He had his life. He had his place. And no one . . . no one knew who I was. No one looked at me twice." She smiled feebly. "And neither did he. There was a moment, I thought . . . we locked eyes . . . he was in the market and bought a fish. I was behind the vendor, and he looked up and he stared and I think he started to smile. I like to think that. But he got distracted, the vendor said something, and I . . . I went back to the Jolie and Anna cut the mooring lines."

Emma stared at Milah for a long time. "Why are you telling me this?"

"A strange sort of penance, I suppose," Milah said. "You always disapproved of my leaving him. I never thought myself a coward in doing so. I was going to come back, take him with me. We were going to have so many adventures, but this . . . this isn't the life I want for him. Just yesterday I killed a man in a raid. He did nothing to me, but he had what I wanted. So I killed him." Milah looked at Emma. "I'm someone I'm proud of," she said. "But I'm not his mother. Not the one he remembers. I don't know if I could ever be that person without feeling as if I was losing a part of myself. And he doesn't deserve that."

"Do you want me to tell you that you did the right thing?"

"I don't think you would even if you made up your mind about it," Milah said with a cynical smile. "That's not your way. Not with me, I don't think. I don't know. I just . . . I just wanted you to know that I tried."

Emma wanted to tell her that she'd made the wrong decision. She wanted to tell Milah that she was a coward for running away from her problems, from her fears, but she couldn't. Emma had done the same thing more than once. She still wanted to run sometimes, and the sea was a beguiling, teasing mistress that promised endless possibilities. Emma understood that. She understood it too well.

Years ago, she would have understood but ignored it. She would have demanded that Milah go back. It was right. It was good. It was best. And maybe it still was. But Emma couldn't do that anymore. She'd grown, too. She'd changed. She'd learned. And she knew that life wasn't that simple.

"You've always done what you've thought was best," she said finally. "I've always believed that."

And Milah smiled, truly. "Thank you, Emma."

The night passed without incident and without the memory of regrets. Milah and Killian reconnected and spent the majority of the night together at the card tables trying to out-cheat the other while Jack kept that both honest about it while swindling the both of them. Elizabeth and Emma played multiple games of darts – a game Emma had introduced much to the other Swann's delight, as it involved sharp objects and gambling – and it passed the time in a way that allowed Emma to forget about Milah and how she was currently laughing with Killian like a teenager.

Elizabeth plied her with rum until they were both swinging and singing and dancing on top of tables. Vincent joined them and took turns spinning them about until Elizabeth landed on her ass on the floor and stayed there giggling until Jack pulled her up and told her that she was going to bed. Elizabeth perked up at that. Emma thought she'd be asleep before they even made it to the bed, and from the indulgent look on Jack's face as he steered out toward the door, he knew it, too.

Vincent disappeared with the first mate of the Lucky Lady soon after Elizabeth left, leaving Emma without her two best friends – and she was just drunk enough to be very upset about it – but then Killian was at her side, without Milah anywhere in sight, smiling in a way that he only did for her. She bopped his nose with her finger. "Hi," she said.

Killian smiled indulgently. "Hi," he repeated. "Had a bit too much rum, love?"

Emma giggled. "I like it when you call me that."

"Love."

She hit his chest. "You did it again." The floor tripped her. Killian caught her with a laugh. Emma laughed, too. "You're strong. And handsome."

"You're completely sloshed, aren't you?"

"I am in total control of my actions."

"That, I believe," he said as her fingers started to slip under his vest. He caught her hand. "Perhaps we should take this to our room?"

"Yes. You can ravish me there."

"Quite right."

Emma wasn't entirely sure how she got from the Wicked Wench to their room at the Cove. She remembered stumbling and laughing and feeling the muscles in Killian's arms whenever he steadied her. When she was suddenly flat on a bed, she giggled. She didn't know why. Killian laughed. Oh, that was why.

She turned her head to look at him. "I love you," she said. "I don't say it a lot but I do."

"I know you do, Swan."

"And I know that you won't leave me."

"Good."

"Because you don't love Milah."

"No, Swan. I don't."

"And I know that."

"I believe you."

"I'm just dumb."

Killian smiled softly. He sat on the bed next to her and brushed her hair back out of her face. Emma suddenly looked sober, even if her eyes were still glazed and her pupils wide. "No, love," he said. "You're not dumb. Just very human."

"Your human."

"Aye, mine."

"You should make it official."

"What?"

"I keep waiting for you to ask, but you don't. I think you're nervous."

"Swan?"

"Marry me."

"S-Swan?"

"You shouldn't be nervous," she said. "I'll say yes. No pressure. See?"

Killian stared at her a long while. Emma almost thought he'd ask. But he only smiled in that soft little way of his. It wasn't a big smile. His lips barely moved. The smile was in his eyes. Big and blue and sweet. "Aye," he said. "I'll remember."

"Good."

So at least I gave you fluff? I have no clue when another chapter will come, but until I post some sort of author's note declaring this story perpetually unfinished, the game is still on.

Just slow. Really slow.

Lots of love,

AC