"Let's go get you warm and dry, love," Killian encouraged in her ear before steering them through the throng of community members.

"Actually," Eloise fell in step beside them and placed a hand on Killian's bicep, stopping them. "The girls will escort Emma back to the cabin," she stated in a bored tone. "Your presence has been requested elsewhere."

"What, now?" Killian snapped. Emma could hear the strain in his voice as he attempted to keep calm.

"Yes. Now," Eloise drawled smugly. "Unless you'd rather wait another night?"

Indecision and longing wrestled within Killian's eyes, his mind clearly having been thrown into conflicting turmoil. "I'm sorry, Swan." His face pinched with reluctance. He obviously had no desire to leave her side, but whatever it was that seemed to demand his presence took precedence over his own wants. "I have something I need to… you go back to the cabin. I won't be long, and it'll give you time to change for the celebration." A forced smile and air of ease had taken over his demeanor while he spoke. Adjusting the towel firmly around her shoulders he whispered in her ear. "Don't leave the cabin for any reason. Wait until I get back." He fixed her with a serious gaze until she nodded then placed a quick kiss at her cheek before heading off as quickly as his still injured foot would allow.

Emma stood stunned. It was the second time he'd shown her such affection, and although she knew from the previous evening that a mutual attraction existed between them, she couldn't help but feel these signs of intimacy were as forced as the civility in his tone and countenance when addressing some of his fellow community members.

"I have to see to the celebration arrangements," Eloise said as she gestured toward the crowd milling by. "The girls will walk you back to the cabin."

Emma turned to see three young girls approach her. They each wore nervously excited smiles, two of them she recognized as the ones who had presented her with floral bouquets earlier. Wearing awed expressions they beckoned her to follow, seemingly unsure if they should speak.

"Thank you again for the flowers," Emma said, hoping to alleviate their nerves, and hers in turn.

The girls giggled ecstatically. "You're welcome," the oldest piped up. "I'm Ana. This is my sister Ivy, and this is Margot."

"Such pretty names," Emma complimented with a genuine smile. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and reminded her of her sisters when they were all younger. "Ana was my sister's name."

"You're truly blessed," Ivy blurted before blushing a soft pink.

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Ana replied. "You've been sponsored by Killian." A dreamy expression fell over Ana and her sister while Margot remained politely silent. "I wish I was older," Ana continued. "Then maybe he would have chosen me as his first."

Emma stopped short. "What do you mean by that?" His first? First what, exactly?

"You have to be sixteen to be sponsored and tied to another," Ivy explained. "Margot and I are only fourteen, but Ana is fifteen. She'll be the next to be sponsored in the village."

"So," Emma began walking again, trying to discern the girls' meanings. "None of you have been baptized yet?"

"Oh! Of course, we have," Ivy assured. "We've been cleansed of the pestilence and its corruption upon the world."

"I'm sorry." Emma smiled even as her heart pounded in her chest. None of this was making any sense. "I guess I just don't understand your customs yet." She swallowed nervously and wet her lips. "What do you mean by tied to another?"

"You're bound to him by God now," Margot answered. A look of something distinctly different than the excitement flashed in her eyes before she tore her gaze from Emma's.

"I hope one day our sponsoring will be as pretty as yours," Ivy sighed wistfully, stopping in front of Killian's cabin. "See you at the celebration, Emma!"

Ana and Ivy waved before walking off, giggling to themselves. Margot followed, looking back over her shoulder with an encouraging smile that didn't match the rest of her demeanor.

Emma rushed inside the cabin, pressing her back against the door once she had it firmly closed behind her. Breathe, Emma. Just breathe. Sponsored? Tied? Bound to one another by God? What had she agreed to in that lake? What was Killian expecting of her? Anger mixed with fear and betrayal undulated through her gut. Was this why he asked her here? To be his… first? She didn't even understand what that meant, but she sure as hell wasn't going to wait around to find out.

How could you have been such an idiot!

Reaching for the knob of the door, Emma realized there was no lock. Without knowing how soon Killian would return, she wasted no time stripping the wet garment from her body so she could redress, grab her pack, and head back towards the main gate. Except her pack wasn't where she'd left it. Neither were her clothes still piled in a heap at the foot of Killian's bed.

Panic set in as Emma stood naked in the center of the room, until her eyes landed on the wardrobe. Throwing open the doors, she found many of her things hanging next to Killian's; all of her belongings seemingly put away by a member of the community. Why? She didn't have time to ponder it. After finding her pack at the bottom of the wardrobe, Emma dressed quickly and began shoving her belongings back into the bag. She was nearly finished when she heard Killian's questioning voice sound from behind her.

"Swan? What are you doing?"

Startled, Emma swung around to face him, fortifying herself as she answered, "Leaving."

Killian blanched then glanced over his shoulder before shutting the door. "What do you mean, you're leaving?"

"I mean… I'm going home."

His brows pinched together. "Why?"

"Why? Are you serious?!"

"Is this about the kiss?" he started to move towards her, his limp even more pronounced than it had been earlier. "Look, I am sorry about that, but there wasn't time beforehand to explain-

Emma raised her hand to stay his words and his approach. "You know, I'm pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me, and even though you haven't told me an all out lie, I know you haven't been completely honest with me either."

"You're right, I haven't," he admitted freely with a note of pleading pulling on his words. "But I swear to you, Swan, it's never been my intention to h-"

"Cut the bullshit, Killian!" Emma snapped in a raised tone.

"Emma, keep your voice down," he admonished softly, taking another concerned look over his shoulder at the door.

"Tell me what it really means," she demanded, bringing his focus back to her.

"What?"

"Being tied to you. Sponsored by you." Her body began to tremble with anger. Why couldn't he have just been honest with her? "I talked to some of the village girls, and they made it sound like I was married to you now, that we were bound by God. Is that what that Baptism really meant? Because, I never agreed to that."

"I know that, love."

"Don't call me that!" The flare of anger in her gut sparked to an inferno. She didn't want to hear the endearment that had come to mean so much to her. She hadn't even realized just how much until that moment.

"Alright." He raised his hands in supplication, attempting to calm her once more. "Alright, Swan. Just please, keep your voice down, and I'll explain everything."

"I don't need you to explain," Emma snapped. She didn't want to hear his excuses. She just wanted to leave. She never should have left home in the first place. "I finally understand what those men we came across in the woods meant by the religious folk by the lake. You're all a bunch of fanatics and zealots. Twisting God's Word to suit your own selfish desires."

"I am not a zealot, Swan," he asserted. His own agitation rising to the surface as it clipped and snapped around each word. "I am a man who's had to watch his beliefs be bastardized by vile and corrupt men and women. Who's had to endure unspeakable things in order to survive. A man desperate to escape this place, but unable to do so without help."

"What are you talking about? You were out!" she reminded him. "If you're so desperate to escape, why come back at all? You could have just not returned and left me out of it."

"I couldn't do that."

"Why?"

"Because I," his voice hitched and the pained expression overtaking his face almost broke Emma's heart. "I can't leave my daughter behind."

Emma balked. "Y-Your daughter?" She stared at him as tears pooled in his eyes. Her mind frantically tried to wrap itself around his words. "You have a daughter?"

"Aye. Her name is Alice." Despite the raw and desperate emotions simmering beneath the surface, he couldn't seem to help but smile as he said her name.

"Who… who's her mother?" Emma asked, though she was willing to bet she already knew.

Killian's fists balled at his sides. "The woman who was my sponsor."

"Eloise," she said knowingly as bile worked its way up her throat. So, that's what the woman had meant by Killian being hers first. "If you're with her, then how can I be tied to you?"

"I am not with her, Swan," Killian stated emphatically. "And you and I are only tied to one another in the community's eyes. Sponsorship did not always equate with being bound to another, that's something that's happened over time." He ran his hands through his hair, sweeping them overhead then back around the base of his neck until settling them in the crook between his neck and shoulders. "Look. It's all a bit complicated, and there's not time to explain everything now, so please, I just need you to trust me a little bit longer. We'll get through the celebration, then I can tell you everything."

"Trust you?" Emma scoffed. "I can't trust you now. How can I?"

"I know," he murmured with heavy regret. "But you don't have any other choice. They won't let you just walk out of here. Not now."

"Why not?"

"Because you made a commitment to the village when you agreed to be baptized. A vow you can't go back on without consequences."

Emma swallowed at the genuinely fearful look in Killian's eyes, unsure if she wanted to know what those consequences were exactly.

"I can get you out of here if that's what you want, but it'll take time. For now, your best option is to play the part, starting with the celebration."

"I thought you needed me in order to get your daughter out of here," she accused, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I do," he affirmed. "And it's my hope that once I've explained everything, you'll want to do that, but I won't hold you hostage, Swan. If you decide to leave after learning everything. I'll help you get free."

The truth of his words blazed from his eyes. He would help her escape this place if that's what she wanted. She just had to trust him for the next few hours then…

"What happens afterward?" Emma asked suspiciously.

"After what?" Killian asked with furrowed brows.

"We go to the celebration, acting like the happy newly bound couple, then you explain everything to me, and then what? I assume there isn't another cabin or room being prepared for me since I found my things already cozily put away in here with yours."

"Aye, there's not," Killian sighed. "But I promise you, Emma." There was a hard edge to his tone, and an intensely earnest look in his brilliant blue eyes. "I expect nothing of you. I would never expect or accept anything that wasn't offered by your own free will." He took a deep shuddering breath, his tongue running along his lower lip before pulling it between his teeth, the indentation quite visible on the tender flesh when he released it from their grip. "For as long as you're here though, you'll have to remain in this cabin. You can have the bed, and I'll take the sofa."

Emma stared with unfocused eyes while trying to process the options before her. Not that there were many. She had no one within the village whom she could trust, and if what Killian said was true, there was no way to leave without his assistance. The walls started to close in on her. Trapped. She was trapped here. She never should have left her homestead, never should have trusted that soft lilt and too blue eyes, never should have believed God was providing her an opportunity to make Ingrid's final wish come true. Solitude was better than this. It never let you down.

"Emma, look at me," Killian said, stirring her from the spiral of despair and panic that had gripped her. Her eyes snapped up to meet his earnest gaze, and he asked, "Have I told you a lie?" Her brows drew together and a scoffing sound punctuated the air between them. "In the last few minutes?" he clarified. "Have I said anything that wasn't true? You said you could detect when someone was lying to you, so tell me… am I lying when I say I mean you no harm? That I brought you here in the hopes you could help me and my daughter get away? That if you choose it, I will help you leave this place, tonight if possible?"

Emma knew he wasn't lying, had known even before the words had left his lips. Truth wasn't the issue. Trust was. The question wasn't whether he was being honest, it was whether she was willing to trust him. Betrayal could just as easily happen with truth as it could with deception, a lesson she'd learned in the past hour. Along with the knowledge that such betrayal hurt far worse than that of overt duplicity. Of course, that was because she'd been putting her trust in the wrong place, Emma realized. Killian might yet prove himself trustworthy, but he wasn't the one Emma needed to have faith in right now.

A knock hammered against the door. "Brother!" Neal's voice called out. "We are all awaiting our guest of honor!"

Killian's attention didn't waiver from her, his question still drifting between them without any measure of pressure, despite the urgency of the moment. "Alright," Emma released on a quiet breath. Killian's shoulders sagged in relief, and he wet his lips once more before offering her a nod of understanding, cementing their agreement.

~/~

"The village started with just five families," Neal explained as they gathered around one of the fire pits after the evening meal. A meal that had included splendor, the likes of which Emma had never before experienced.

Once fed, the elders had led her to a cluster of chairs, all draped with cozy blankets. Neal had taken the central seat with Eloise positioned to his right. On her other side was Victoria, another village elder and the mother of Ivy and Ana. Neal had insisted that Emma take the seat to his left, which she did reluctantly. Killian settled himself in the chair beside her, but not before moving it closer to hers, an action that had both Eloise and Victoria's eyes narrowing. Robin rounded out their group, taking up the last seat of their semi-circle around the fire next to Killian.

"The pioneer survivalist experiment Killian told me about?"

Neal nodded, turning his body to give her the majority of his attention. She wished he wouldn't. "That's right. My family, the Cassidys, plus the Jones, the Gardeners, the Belfreys, and the Wests were the original families. Members of those families make up the elder council. All of us," he gestured to the others sat around the fire, "were here before the pestilence began. Except for Robin."

Emma swiveled her head, and fixed her gaze on the man in question. "Your family wasn't one of the founders?"

"No," he answered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Something similar to a look she'd seen in Killian's gaze flashed in his eyes. "I was sponsored by the last remaining member of the West family. She and her father had been part of the initial expedition."

"What happened to them?"

"He lost his way early on, I'm afraid," Neal replied, attempting to draw her attention back to him.

"Lost his way?"

"Mr. West was the one who established our distillery," Killian answered, allowing her to keep her focus on what she subconsciencly deemed the safer side of the circle. "Unfortunately, once things became dire, he turned to the drink for comfort."

"Forsaking the true path," Eloise cut in. "He fell into the sin of drunkenness and was punished for it."

Emma was taken aback by that statement. "What do you mean, he was punished?"

"Drunkenness is an act of the flesh," Neal declared. Emma didn't much care for the way his eyes roamed over her when he uttered the word flesh. "Galatians 5:21 tells us that those who live by the flesh will not inherit the kingdom of God. He was struck down during the first winter of the pestilence."

"Struck down?"

"He passed out, drunk," Killian added, a sad glimmer shining in his and Robin's eyes which was a stark contrast to the hardened self-righteousness she'd seen in the other's. "Died of exposure."

"The first of the unworthy the Lord delivered us from," Victoria stated coldly.

Killian's jaw clenched, but he managed to keep the rest of his expression neutral.

"And his daughter? Your sponsor?" Emma asked Robin.

"She died in childbirth." Robin's gaze moved to the cluster of young girls gathered around a nearby fire pit, and landed on Margot.

Emma's eyes widened when realization settled in. "Margot? She's…"

"Aye, she's mine," Robin confirmed. "As is Roland." He nodded towards a young boy of about six or seven who was sat next to Margot, throwing bits of debris into the flames while chattering excitedly to the indulgent group around him. "I sponsored his mother when she came to the village about ten years ago," he continued, an air of grief enveloping his words as he imparted. "She was taken by the influenza that struck the community a year ago."

"I'm so sorry," Emma expressed with sincerity. While she'd gotten the sense there hadn't been much in the way of affection between him and the woman who'd birthed Margot, it was clear he'd loved Roland's mother. Although, now that she thought about it, Emma couldn't help but wonder if that affection had been returned. Had the woman been sponsored in the same way Emma had? Had she known what she was signing up for when she'd arrived at the village?

"We lost a number of good people to it," Victoria added. Her husband had also fallen victim to the illness, as had Neal's Grandfather - the infamous Malcolm the men from the woods had referred to.

Turned out it had been Malcolm who'd funded the grant that had established the original village. He, his son, and his grandson had joined the Joneses in their endeavor. Victoria and her husband were graduate students assigned to the project, while Eloise and her parents, as well as the Wests had all answered an advertisement seeking volunteers. Other families had joined in on the experiment during the year or so before the sickness broke out. Though they had created the settlement far from civilization, their existence hadn't been a secret so once the pestilence began, more began to arrive seeking protection and shelter.

Emma had to focus on what was not being said as much as what was freely shared by the elders in order to get a somewhat clear picture of the community's history. Fearful of the pestilence, Malcolm had begun an initiative to secure their little village. Walls were erected, and isolation pits were dug where newcomers were kept in quarantine until observation ensured they weren't sick. While Malcolm and his son had provided logistical leadership, it had been Killian's parents who'd taken up the role of spiritual advisors, giving people hope and a faith to cling to during those dark times.

Until Killian's mother passed.

Overcome with grief and the pressure of raising two young sons in what was arguably the most devastating years humanity had seen in centuries, if ever, Brennan Jones had become withdrawn. Emma got the sense that Eloise and Neal's father had capitalized on the man's weakness in order to begin preaching their own brand of theology, a theology that only seemed to have become more corrupt as the years passed. Especially after Neal had been declared as some sort of post pestilence messiah by his grandfather.

Emma's stomach turned while listening to scriptures, taken wildly out of context, dripped from the silver tongues of Neal, Eloise, and Victoria. Every so often, a soft amen would be murmured by Robin and Killian. Remembering how incensed Killian had been when he'd professed to not be one of them, that he'd had to endure the twisting of his faith, gave Emma a modicum of reassurance in her gut instinct that these meager agreements were just for show. When Emma began asking questions about when the concept of sponsoring had begun, the subject was quickly changed and refocused onto her.

"Everyone here serves a role for the greater good," Victoria said. "Tell us. Do you have any special skills or areas of expertise?"

"Emma is a metal worker," Killian informed them. "She's extremely skilled in forge work." Emma felt heat rush to her cheeks at his compliment despite the irritation that had briefly sparked within her chest at his answering for her.

"Is that so?" Robin questioned, leaning forward in his seat with renewed interest at the subject.

"Yes." Emma replied.

"How on earth did you come to acquire such a skill?"

"There used to be a man who lived in the area who knew how to forge," she explained. "He taught me one summer in exchange for provisions from our garden. His hands had become gnarled and painful. He couldn't do much in the way of work, so he traded his knowledge for our labor."

"Neighbor helping neighbor," Neal sermonized. "You'll find we operate much the same way here. You should fit right in."

Emma offered a tight and tolerant smile while mentally vowing to never fit in with the likes of these people and their duplicitous doctrines.

"Killian?" Robin questioned. "Would you mind if I showed Emma our forge? We haven't had a decent smith in such a long time I find myself rather eager to get her started."

Killian turned and raised his brows at Emma in silent query. Only after she nodded did he reply with his consent.

"Terrific," Robin beamed as he stood and extended his hand out to help her from her seat. "I'll have her back in a jiffy."

Nerves suddenly fluttered in her gut. She had no idea where the forge was. What was she thinking going off with this man on her own in the pitch black of night? As if he'd sensed her abrupt hesitation, Killian called out for them to wait. Standing, he plucked the quilt that had cushioned her chair and walked over to wrap it around her shoulders.

"It's alright, lov- er, Swan. You can trust Robin," he whispered while making a show of adjusting the blanket around her. "The forge is just off the square. You won't be far off, and still within view of others."

It frustrated her how easily he was able read her and how much his words gave her comfort. She was supposed to be angry with him. She was angry with him, but she was also starting to get a better understanding of the desperation that had driven him to do what he'd done. Not that it made a difference. She wasn't staying here any longer than she had to, no matter how good the food was, or how nice it was to hear the sounds of people doing life together, or how impressive the forge was.

"Where did all of this come from?" she asked in awe once she and Robin arrived at the forge. Even in the dim light of the lantern and the soft flood of illumination from the fire pits, Emma could see their set up was far more advanced than hers was back home.

"Our last smith arrived with some of it," Robin replied. "The rest we scavenged."

Unease skittered down Emma's spine. "What happened to him? Your last blacksmith."

Robin's expression turned grave, and he cast a look over his shoulder before grimly stating, "He strayed from the true path." Before she could ask exactly what he meant by that, he began pointing out various tools and elements she'd have at her disposal. "Defense is always our highest priority, so tomorrow I'll be bringing you some weapons in need of repair. We can chat about other things the village needs then as well." He chuckled lightly and fixed her with a amused look. "Be prepared for a busy few days. People will no doubt have their own items that will need your attention, and," he paused, nonchalantly glancing about, "they'll be curious about you, so it'll be important for you to remember," he stepped closer to her and lowered his voice, "someone is always watching and listening here. Until you learn our ways, you'll need to watch what you say."

Emma nodded that she understood his meaning. In spite of herself, she liked Robin, but she wasn't sure how much she could actually trust him. Even though Killian had given his word that he'd help her get free of this place, Emma knew the only one she could truly rely on to save her, was herself. She'd been hatching a backup plan all evening, but getting out the front gate would be useless without her gun and knife. Perhaps Robin could help her with that?

"So, as the keeper of the armory," she began innocently, "if I needed to retrieve my weapons for repairs then get access to the outside so I could test them... is that something you could help me with?"

An amused smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, confirming that she hadn't fooled him for a moment. "For your sake, I'm going to pretend you didn't ask that."

"I didn't mean to… I was just wondering…" Emma felt panic well up within her until Robin waved off her feeble protests.

"I get it, Emma," he assured her. "You didn't know what you were getting into when you came here, and now that you do, you want to get the hell out."

"How did you-"

"I could see the guilt all over Killian when you two arrived," he answered. "Plus, I know him. This isn't a life he'd wish on anyone. I might not know all the reasons why he brought you here, but I do know he didn't do so lightly. He and I are very much alike in that way."

"Does that mean she knew before going into the lake?" Emma asked, an accusatory tone grating her words. "The woman you sponsored?"

"No. She didn't." Robin didn't seem put off by her tone, but didn't hesitate to respond to her implications, correcting her assumptions with great vehemence. "I sponsored Marion to protect her, much like Killian has done for you. Most others in this village would have demanded… things from her. I never asked her for anything she wasn't willing to give, and in time we grew to love one another." He sighed and the fervor with which he'd defended himself lessened as he said, "I'll understand if you don't believe me. After all, Marion isn't here to back up my claims, and given your current situa-"

"I believe you," Emma blurted out.

Robin stared at her in astonishment. "Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why are you willing to give me the benefit of the doubt, but not Killian?"

"What do you mean?" Robin gave her a pointed look, and his words from earlier came rushing back. There's always someone watching and listening. "You heard us?"

"Not everything, but I got the gist of it," he answered. "I know he's desperate to get Alice out of here, which I completely understand, I have a daughter, too. He seems to think you can help him, but he isn't selfish enough for that to be the only reason he brought you here. I do know this, though," he added when Emma opened her mouth to question what other motives Killian might have, "Killian Jones is a good man." Robin stated emphatically. "Despite everything he's been through, he's never lost his faith or the principles of good form his family tried to establish within him."

"What exactly has he been through?" Emma questioned, though she wasn't sure she was ready for the answer.

"That's not my tale to tell."

His words came out in something of a strained whisper, and Emma got the sense that some of Killian's tale just might reflect Robin's own, in part if not in whole.

"Dad? It's getting late. I think we should get Roland to bed," Margot called out as she approached with her sleepy eyed brother stumbling beside her with heavy, exhausted feet.

Robin smiled and nodded at his daughter, then turned back to Emma. "Would you like me to walk you back over to the others?"

Emma looked past the various fires still burning brightly and set her gaze on Killian. He was engaged in a conversation with a young man she'd not yet met who'd taken up residence in her seat. Every so often Killian's eyes would flick in her direction, as if he were keeping an eye on her, making sure she was still where she was supposed to be, which he most likely was. It didn't feel possessive or overbearing, more a protective instinct to make sure she didn't wander off into unknown trouble. Regardless, it made her chaffe, as did the idea of having to converse any longer with the other elders.

"I think I'll familiarize myself with the forge a bit more before heading back over," she told Robin.

"Very well. Just make sure you don't wander off," he warned, then bid her goodnight.

Emma waved to Margot before the trio set off towards their cabin. Once alone, she felt some of the tension she'd been holding melt away as she immersed herself in the familiarity of the forge set up. With any luck, Killian would be able to get her away tonight, but the more she explored the equipment and tools, the more she almost wished it would take a few days so she could play with the resources before her.

Almost.

Robin's words kept replaying themselves over and over again in her mind. I sponsored Marion to protect her, much like Killian has done for you… Killian Jones is a good man… Despite everything he's been through… he's desperate to get Alice out of here… he isn't selfish enough for that to be the only reason he brought you here. What other reason did he have for bringing her here? Why did he need her help in getting Alice out of the compound? Where was Alice? Why hadn't she met her yet? Perhaps the celebration had extended past her bedtime? Emma knew next to nothing about the child, not even how old she was.

All she knew for sure was that Killian was her father and Eloise was her mother - a fact that made Emma's stomach turn over. There was no evidence of the child in Killian's cabin, so she could only assume Alice lived with her mother. Why, though? Killian didn't seem the type to want to be separated from his own flesh and blood. The love he held for his little girl had been more than apparent in those brief moments of revelation in his cabin. Emma might be struggling with her own trust in the man, but one thing she knew for certain was that Killian would do anything for his child.

Like essentially marrying a woman he barely knew in the hopes she might help him kidnap his daughter from the only home she'd ever known, her mind snapped bitterly. Don't forget that, Emma!

Having no desire to rejoin the celebration, Emma set off for Killian's cabin with the intent of making sure her belongings had all made it into her pack when she'd gathered them in haste earlier. She wanted to be ready to go the moment Killian was finished presenting his case; a resolve she had to keep repeating to herself, unwilling to allow anything he might say to persuade her into staying.

Emma passed the last fire, Killian's cabin just steps away, when she heard a quiet psst sound from around the corner of the structure. A blonde head was peaking around the side of the cabin, a hand beckoning her forward, as the young girl's eyes darted around the square.

"Are you Emma?" the girl asked.

"Yes," Emma drawled out hesitantly, taking in the girl's appearance. She looked to be about twelve or thirteen. Her thin frame and the pallor of her skin, even in the darkness of the night, betrayed her frailty, and Emma wondered if the poor thing had suffered from some sort of lengthy illness.

"I knew you must be!" she replied enthusiastically, throwing her arms around Emma's waist. "Papa said you were pretty."

"Papa?" Emma gasped with fresh understanding. "Are you? You're Alice?" She felt the girl's head bob up and down in confirmation. "How...How old are you, Alice?"

"Twelve," she answered brightly, releasing Emma and looking around once more to make sure no one else was around. "Nearly thirteen, though."

Twelve? That meant Killian had to have been… what? Fifteen? Sixteen? When she'd been born?

A fresh shudder rolled through Emma at the implications of such a fact, and a flood of questions she hadn't allowed herself to consider washed over her.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come to your baptism or the celebration," Alice prattled on. "Mother wouldn't allow it. Papa was very cross with her. Of course, Papa is always very cross with Mother, even though he tries to hide it from me. I can always tell when his smiles aren't real, and they never are when he talks of Mother, but they were when he told me about you. I'm so happy you're here, and that you make Papa smile real smiles."

Emma had no idea how to respond to that statement. Especially when images of Killian's face, beaming with a smile because of something she'd said, or the way he'd lit up when he saw her approach the lake, were swirling through her mind.

"Why, uh… why weren't you allowed to come to the baptism or the celebration?"

Alice looked around again before leaned in to whisper conspiratorially to Emma. "I'm not supposed to leave my room. Mother doesn't know I'm out, but I didn't want to wait until tomorrow to meet you. Promise you won't tell?"

She was definitely Killian's child, with the way she was looking up at her with the same pleading blue eyes. "Why can't you leave your room?"

No sooner had the question left her lips when Emma saw Alice's eyes roll back before she pitched forward into Emma's alarmed embrace. Carefully, she tried to lower Alice to the ground, but the girl began convulsing in Emma's arms, collapsing them both into the dirt.

"Oh, my God! Alice?" Emma cried out to the unresponsive girl as she continued to seize. With Alice secured in her arms, Emma turned her body toward the village square and frantically called out, "Help! Killian, help! Please! Someone, come quick!"

Shouts echoed from the square, followed by swift footfalls. A door close by crashed opened, and a moment later Robin was at her side, followed quickly by Killian.

"Alice?" Killian dropped to his knees next to his daughter and reached for her, taking her from Emma's grasp and into his own. "Help me turn her onto her side," he called out.

An elbow forced Emma out of the way, her back hit the side of Killian's cabin as Eloise's wild hair came into view.

"What happened?" the woman snapped. "What on earth is she doing here? How did she get out of her room?"

"She wanted to meet me," Emma said shakily as unexpected worry coursed through her.

Eloise's head whipped around and she fixed her cold eyes onto Emma. "And you just let her stand out here in the cold?"

Emma's mouth fell open, and she bristled at the woman's accusatory tone.

"Don't you dare blame Emma," Killian growled low. "Perhaps if you'd let her attend the celebration and let her meet Emma properly, she wouldn't have felt the need to-"

"Are you suggesting this is my fault?" Eloise hissed back. "You never should have indulged her ridiculous desire to venture outside. I told you she wasn't strong enough. I warned you she wasn't even up to seeing you, but you insisted-"

"She's my daughter, Eloise! I hadn't seen her in weeks! Of course, I insisted on seeing her!"

"Papa?" Alice croaked, drawing everyone's attention. Emma breathed a sigh of relief that she'd stopped convulsing and was conscious once again.

"Aye, starfish. Papa's here," Killian responded. The tenderness in his voice pulled at Emma's heart. As scared as she'd been, she couldn't imagine what he'd been going through as his child shook in his embrace. Although, given the girl's sickly disposition, he might very well be used to it by now. If a parent ever could get used to their child being ill. "Let's get you back to your room, little love."

Killian gathered Alice up into his arms and carefully stood with her cradled in his embrace.

"I'm sorry, Papa," she said sleepily. "I wanted to meet Miss Emma."

"It's alright, starfish," he soothed, adjusting her weight.

"You were right, Papa," she murmured. "She's very nice. And pretty. I like her."

Killian's eyes left his daughter's face and settled on Emma. Her already pounding heart thumped painfully against her ribs, and her breath caught at the look in his eyes.

"So do I, love. So do I."