Hey everyone!

Here it is! The sequel story to Begin Again :)

To any new readers, this is a sequel to my story called "Begin Again". You might be a bit lost reading this without reading that story!

I also want to reiterate once more that this is an anti-Neal story, yet he will be present in a good bit of this story. But there will be ZERO love triangle stuff, no Neal POV's, and Neal won't be sticking around. Neal is here for two reasons: so that he can reap his consequences and so Emma can have some closure with all the crap she went through with him. I'm doing it for Emma because she deserves that closure, not for Neal. Even though he'll be in here a bit, the focus is still 95% on CS, Henry and Emma's parents, rest assured!

On the subject of Neal, I honestly don't know what canon-Neal was thinking when he sent Emma back to his father in NYC. He let Emma go back to him for at least a half an hour if not more, and if (in the bar) Neal knew what his father would do to someone who broke a deal, he essentially sent Emma there anyway, and changed his mind a half an hour later. Sooo I tried my best to come up with a reason for his thought process. Hopefully it comes across realistically!

I'm posting the first 3 chapters of this story at once, and they count up to almost 20k words. The first few scenes in this first chapter were at the end of Begin Again, and this story starts with Emma and Killian waking up on his ship after their date in Begin Again. :)

Hope you guys like this one! :)

~cosette141


Dawn was just beginning to shine through the night, casting a faded ray of morning onto the sign, reading Welcome to Storybrooke.

A car pulled up to it, arriving in town, stopping at the sign.

The driver's door opened, and the driver stepped out, approaching the sign, holding something up next to it, comparing it.

A postcard.

With a sigh, he lowered the postcard, turning toward the town that was visible now, that hadn't been the few yards before the town line.

He got back in the car, putting the postcard back on the passenger seat, next to the only other two things he brought with him.

A keychain.

And a cane.

With a weary breath, Neal Cassidy put the car back into gear, and began to drive into the sleepy little town.


Emma has never been more comfortable in her life.

Warmth and a distinct feeling of safe was wrapped around her, holding her close. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, blinking against the soft rays of daylight shining in through the window.

And she lay there for a moment, never once having slept so restfully.

A sense of calm coursed through her like the morning mist rolling off the sea. As she continued to wake, she blinked, eyes recognizing the cabin—Killian's cabin.

The slight surprise woke her even more, realizing where she was, and only made her realize even more where she ended up.

Or, more accurately, with whom.

Emma quickly realized the warmth was in fact Killian, who was lying on his back, and she had somehow come to use him as a pillow. Her face was resting against his chest, feeling every slow rise and fall of his breathing. Their hands were intertwined over him, and his left arm was wrapped snugly around her back, holding her close. His head was lying against hers, his nose buried in her hair.

Emma felt herself smile, turning a little to see him.

He was still asleep, his eyes shut, his face so peaceful. She was so used to seeing the intricate expressions in his face, so often a tortured sort of pain that held every one of his years that didn't show in his appearance otherwise.

But in sleep, it was all erased, leaving behind the person Emma has come to know. Holding every bit of the sort of innocence and the hope that had been in his voice last night.

Hope that had wrapped around her own heart, just as warm as Killian's embrace.

"I'd like to see the world with you, love."

Emma couldn't think of anything she'd want to do more, nor anyone better to do so with.

She was becoming more and more certain that Henry was right, that happy endings have returned.

And Killian was hers.

Emma smiled, eyes still on his face, and slowly, she untangled her fingers from his, using them instead to brush the hair over his forehead where it had fallen.

He shifted at her touch, though didn't wake, and Emma felt his arm pull her closer to him, making a soft giggle escape her—which surprised even her, because she can't remember the last time she'd made such a sound—if ever. Never would she have thought, when she'd met Captain Hook in the Enchanted Forest, that he'd be one for cuddling. Nor that she'd adore being the one in his arms.

Seems he's hidden his true self away the same way she has for nearly his whole life.

Yet, as she watched him, his brows twitched, and his eyes opened. It took him a moment to come to wakefulness, a softness to his face even before he did, like the sense of calm she'd woken with enveloped him as well. But his eyes fell to their clasped hands first, surprise jumping into his eyes before they snapped to her, still looking at him, her smile only wider.

And the look that overcame him, this expression between joy and disbelief, sent a warmth that touched every nerve in Emma's body.

"Morning," whispered Emma through her smile, and his widened. He lifted his hand from hers, brushing her hair behind her ear, and it made a heat touch Emma's cheeks, realizing he'd unknowingly done the exact same gesture she'd just done with him. His thumb settled on her cheek, brushing over her skin. With a grin that held a hint of the pirate in him, he said, "Your father's going to kill me."

Emma laughed, laying her head back on his chest, his hand falling to her back as she settled back into the comfort of his warmth. "Maybe we should just run away now," she mused.

It was his turn to laugh, his fingers running through her hair. "Aye, aye, captain." he whispered, kissing her hair. They were quiet for a moment, simply basking in each other, when he said, "I like waking up to you."

Emma's fingers played with the collar of his shirt, and she hummed. "Me, too," she agreed softly. "Worth having David chase you around town for it?" she joked.

"Sweetheart, you are worth it and more." he said with another kiss to the top of her head, his voice holding every bit of sincerity. Her eyes opened, finding his. "I'd do absolutely anything to be with you." he said softly, eyes holding an unwavering truth, a devotion.

And it made her eyes burn a little, because no one, not one soul, has ever said anything like that to her before.

"So would I," she whispered back, smiling, and he returned it, pulling her to him for a kiss, and Emma never wanted to leave this bed.

But some reality slipped in between kisses, and Emma pulled away, seeing the absolute boyish grin on his face, his arms wrapped snugly around her waist, and Emma smiled at it. She sat up a little, and he loosened his arms instantly to let her, and it would never cease being absolutely touching how much he respected her comfort zone.

"Regina's dropping Henry off at the loft this afternoon." she said, biting her lip. "I think it might be a good idea to… tell him about us," she said, eyes flicking to his.

Killian grinned, slipping his left arm to fold behind his head. "Tell him what exactly?"

But Emma lifted her brow, setting her jaw a little at the very Hook-like expression on his face, something she could only describe as shit-eating. "You just want to hear me say it, don't you." she deadpanned.

His grin grew.

He wasn't going to be the one to say it, to give them any sort of a title, placing nearly every piece of control into her hands, and hers alone.

She would never, ever get over just how much he seemed to understand her.

For so long, commitment was a terrifying thing. She hadn't dated a single person since Neal, and never thought she would again.

But this was different. He was different.

And she suddenly didn't have that fear anymore.

So Emma leaned back over him, saying through her own grin, "That I have a very sexy pirate boyfriend."

And it made the expression of his fade a little, traded for surprise, like he hadn't expected her to truly say it.

To commit.

But it only faltered for a second, returning with something that mixed rich genuinity into mischief, an expression he could trademark, and he brushed her hair behind her ear again. "I do hope that is how you phrase it to the lad."

Emma laughed, kissing him again before untangling herself from him. Back on their feet, Emma said, "It's… it's probably better if I go home… myself," she said, wincing a little at both the idea and the chill of it. "I'd rather David doesn't kill you."

"I'm a survivor, love," he said, thumb brushing over her cheek again. "No need to worry about me."

Emma smiled from the heat at his touch. "I prefer not testing that theory more than once in a week." she said wryly. "How about you meet me and Henry at Granny's in an hour for lunch?"

He smiled, kissing her once more, softly. "As you wish." he whispered.

She smiled right back.


Despite Emma's insistence that he didn't have to, Killian walked her home, kissing her on the cheek at the end of the block with a whisper to see her soon. Yet when he walked away, even just for the short time it will be, it still felt like a part of her had gone with him.

But remembering Henry, Emma climbed the stairs to the loft.

She opened the door cautiously, praying that no one was home, because all of a sudden she felt the distinct sense of the walk of shame. She slowly poked her head in…

…to find the loft empty.

She breathed out in relief at avoiding another awkward conversation.

There was a note on the table, however, and Emma picked it up.

Morning Emma!

David and I will be gone most of the afternoon to plan how we're going to restore the Kingdom. See you later!

- Mary Margaret

P.S. David convinced himself you took a very long walk alone last night. But I hope you two had a wonderful time. You deserve it.

Emma felt both a wince and a smile touch her face at the bottom of the note, but something hollow settled into her chest. As much as she'd worried that she'd have to have an awkward conversation with Mary Margaret and David about last night, the fact that they weren't here for it felt… empty.

And not for the first time, she wished things were different between them.

But a knock at the door shook away the thoughts, and Emma threw the note in the trash before answering it.

Regina was standing behind it, with Henry at her side. "Good morning," said Regina, lips in a tight smile. But this time, it wasn't because of forced kindness. It was more uncomfortable, it was trying.

"Morning," said Emma, a genuine smile. It certainly felt good to be on the same page with Regina now, and the fact that the woman gave up the throne for Henry made Emma realize just how much she did care for Henry.

"Morning!" said Henry excitedly. But his brows kneaded as he looked at Emma, saying confusedly, "Weren't you wearing that yesterday?"

Heat rushed to Emma's cheeks.

And Regina's lifted brow at that only made it worse.

"You hungry?" asked Emma instead to Henry.

He smiled. "Starving!"

"Good," said Emma, ruffling his hair. "We're meeting your Captain at Granny's in a little bit."

Henry's eyes lit up. "Awesome!" He then quickly hugged Regina with a "Bye, Mom!" and zipped up the stairs with a shout of, "I'm gonna get ready!"

Emma laughed a little, and Regina had a little amused tilt to her lips as well, surprising Emma to see it. "Henry spent half the night talking about Hook," said Regina wryly. "You two seem to be getting… close."

Emma's face flushed even hotter.

But Regina's expression softened a little, saying, "He also told us what really happened in New York." Emma barely caught the flinch before it showed. "Give the pirate my thanks for protecting Henry." Emma felt a little of the smile of hers come back, at the acceptance for Killian spreading through everyone. "I am glad you're all right, Miss. Swan." A pause, then, "Emma."

"Thanks," whispered Emma, stunned by the gesture.

And the honesty in the woman's eyes.

With a goodbye, Regina left, and Emma closed the door.

After getting changed and freshening up, spending more time on her clothing choice and her hair than she has in years, Emma found Henry fitting his storybook into his backpack.

"Hey, kid," she said, sitting on the edge of his bed, next to his backpack. "Can I ask you something?"

He finished zipping his backpack, looking at her, brows lifting at the slight nervousness in her voice. Brows kneading, he said, "Yeah, anything."

"How do you feel about the idea of me…" She trailed off, fingers fidgeting with each other. Life was a lot easier when she had walls to block the emotions.

However easier, it wasn't better.

"The idea of…?" prompted Henry.

Emma took a breath. Swallowing, she said, "The idea of… me… dating someone?"

His brows soared. "You're dating someone?"

Emma bit her lip.

"You are!" he said at her expression, smiling wide. "Who is it?"

Biting her lip harder, Emma hesitantly said, "...Hook."

The moment Hook left her mouth, Henry froze.

Emma suddenly felt dread in her chest.

Until Henry broke out in the biggest grin she's ever seen him wear.

And relief coursed through her, making her smile too.

"Is that… okay with you?" asked Emma, unable to keep the hope out of her voice.

"Okay?!" exclaimed Henry, shooting to his feet. "It's more than okay! It's awesome!"

Emma's smile reached her eyes. "You like him a lot too, huh," she mused through her smile.

"He's so cool," gushed Henry, only making Emma's smile wider. But his smile softened a little, into that maturity that no other eleven-year-old had, and he said, "Just for the record, I'm okay with anything that makes you happy."

Emma felt tears touch her eyes, pulling Henry into her arms, hugging him tight. He hugged her back just as tightly. "I love you so much, kid," she whispered.

"I love you, too," he said right back. "But I really am hungry."

Emma laughed, pulling back, feeling a weight lifted off her chest. "All right, let's go," she said, standing and Henry gathered his backpack.

And Emma had a feeling she wasn't the only one about to feel even lighter.


Killian didn't expect the level of nervousness he currently felt, leaning against the fence outside the 'Granny's' tavern.

Yesterday, he'd been tentative enough when it was Emma's parents' approval of him on the line, something he still couldn't quite believe he'd earned (earned to a point). For he was certain that if he did happen upon the prince any time soon, he'd be getting another fist to the face, or at least a glare that packed just as much of a punch. But Killian was not against Emma having a protective father—the more people to protect her, in his mind, the better. Though he was set to remain firmly at the top of that list.

However, the idea of getting Emma's child's approval…

…was something entirely different.

Killian knew by now—something that still stunned him to no end—that Henry was a fan of him. That night in New York had created a palpable bond between the three of them, something Killian felt to his core. He'd protect both of them with his life, again and again and again.

But just because Henry liked him, didn't necessarily mean he thought he was good enough for his mother, or that he even liked the idea of anyone being with his mother.

And it only flashed him back to Neverland, to the few months he'd had Baelfire aboard. Certainly now that Killian knew the extent of what Baelfire did as an adult tainted his image of the boy, for he never would have thought the boy was capable of something as heartless as what he did to Emma.

Hell, when he met Baelfire, the young lad had told him he'd only ended up in Neverland to save another child from the same fate.

And with a sharp stab of guilt, Killian wondered if his terrible decision to let Bae into Pan's clutches had played a part in the terrible man he'd become.

But as someone who had been wronged by many people, and for many years had firmly placed the blame in the hands of others for the man Hook had become, Killian had gained quite a bit of wisdom over his many years. At some point, one's choices are his own and the man one becomes is his own doing. Killian would forever feel the guilt of how he handled his relationship with young Bae, but as far as he was concerned, the man Baelfire grew into had zero excuses when it came to how he treated Emma.

Killian had, however, been with Baelfire, been someone the lad had looked up to for quite some time, and it had felt so good. When he'd told Bae that he would make good on Milah's and his plan to go back for him, to raise Bae as his own, he'd been truthful. In that moment, his care for the boy had rivaled his need for revenge.

It made him realize just how much he wanted a child in his life.

To now have Henry look at him the same way that Bae did in those first few weeks…

Killian took a breath, shutting his eyes.

He would not make the same mistake twice.

He's come to care for Henry even more than he'd once cared for Bae, in such a shorter amount of time, and the fact that Henry was Bae's son was something Killian still couldn't exactly wrap his head around.

This was Killian's chance to make up for what he should have done all those years ago.

As well as for him to gain something he'd never thought was still a possibility for him: happiness.

Emma and Henry were his purpose, his future, and it was brighter than he could have ever imagined.

Killian was only waiting a few minutes before he saw Emma and Henry. He straightened.

"Captain!" cried Henry, running toward him, giving him a hug just as big as the one he'd given him yesterday.

And it would never not take him by surprise, warming his chest as he settled his hand on the boy's shoulder, smiling. "Nice to see you again as well, lad."

Over Henry's head, Killian looked at Emma, giving her a little unsure expression, to which Emma bit her lip. "I… already told him," she admitted.

Killian expression went blank in shock.

Henry knew?

And he…

embraced him?

Henry pulled back then, giving Killian a huge grin. "I think it's awesome that you and Mom are together!"

Killian blinked in shock. "You… do?" he breathed.

"What isn't awesome about it?" he asked, brows kneaded in honest confusion.

Killian couldn't remember how to speak.

"Does this mean I get my own cabin on the Jolly Roger?" asked Henry eagerly. "Can we go sailing every day? Can we—"

"Take it easy, kid," said Emma with a smile. "How about you start with getting us a table?"

"On it!" said Henry excitedly, running inside.

Killian still felt utterly frozen.

Henry approved of him.

Him.

Emma's hand suddenly slipped into his, tearing his attention from his shock. She was smiling at him. "He's almost as happy about us as I am," she said softly.

And more shock was flooding in, at Emma's openness, the fact that her emotions were so free.

He smiled. "No one more than I," he whispered, kissing her something soft and quick. He watched color touch the tip of her nose, and he smiled.

Emma smiled too.

And Killian would never stop being awed by it, a smile that he'd never seen from her before New York. Her smile had always had a reason, it was a wall of its own, never from joy.

This one was so open and free and it was the way a smile was supposed to be: to show happiness.

And the fact that he seemed to be eliciting this rare smile from her was something he only wanted to do more and more.

They both walked inside, seeing Henry at one of the tables by the window. As they entered, a few of the patrons looked up at the sound of the door chime, and at the sight of him, he saw at least half of them tense, like a reflex. But as one, relaxed, and Killian didn't exactly know how to handle such acceptance and approval from so many people.

He didn't deserve it, but he would cherish it for the rest of his days.

Emma and Hook slid into the seat across from where Henry was sitting.

When they did, Henry was already sipping a drink from a mug. "I ordered for us," said Henry. "Grilled cheese for you," said Henry to Emma.

"With—" she began, but Henry just smiled and said, "Onion rings, got it."

Lifting a brow to Emma, he asked, "Cooked… cheese?"

Emma again tried to hide a smile. "When you put it like that, the name is pretty misleading." she said with a furrow of her brows. "Bread and cheese, pretty much, is what it is."

"I ordered the Captain a hamburger," said Henry with a wide grin.

Killian opened his mouth to question it, but Emma just put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Bread and meat." At the furrow in Killian's own brow, she said, "We put pretty much everything we can on bread. Welcome to America."

Not long after Emma and Henry attempted explaining this America and the basic geography of this realm, making him even more curious about exploring it further, their food arrived.

Killian had to admit, he'd been unsure about the new foods—he'd fished for his food while he'd been in town—but he was pleasantly surprised with the tastes. The 'french fries' that Henry dove into first were quite delectable.

After they ate, Henry looked at Killian. "Captain?"

"I appreciate the respect, lad," said Killian with a grin, "but you're free to call me Killian, if you'd like." And it was strange, saying his name, not having spoken it, introduced himself, as Killian since he was nearly Henry's age.

Henry seemed to think about it for half a second, but shook his head. "It's more fun to call you Captain." he said with a grin, making Killian and Emma laugh.

"Aye, then," he said.

"Can I ask you some questions?" asked Henry.

"Anything you'd like," said Killian honestly.

Henry unzipped his backpack and pulled out a large book. "The storybook doesn't say a lot about your life," he said, putting the book on the table, opening it to a page that Henry seemed to know by heart. Killian felt his brows shoot up, seeing a distinctly accurate painting of him at the wheel of the Jolly Roger, displaying his hook. Briefly, Killian realized this must have been the book that Henry referred to having seen his ship.

At Killian's surprise, Emma said, "The book is magic. It includes real life events of pretty much everyone who lives in town."

A magic book that features him?

Suddenly that was a worrisome idea, for too much of his life was less than… good.

And just as suddenly, he felt a cold fear at the idea of Emma knowing just what he's done in his life. She's forgiven what he's done since she's known him, but what he's done, period?

His chest suddenly hurt.

"All it says about you," said Henry, "is how you lost your hand," Killian felt himself tense a little, his left arm flinching, "and that you went to Neverland. It doesn't really say a lot about you, or Peter Pan."

Besides the initial relief of what the book lacked about him, the sheer name of the little devil made him tense, and Emma felt it. "Right," said Emma with a sigh. "He's real too, huh? Annoying kid?" she asked with a little grin.

"More like a little bloody devil," muttered Killian.

"The happy-go-lucky kid who just wants to stay young forever?" asked Emma, brows raising.

"The real Peter Pan isn't like the Disney Peter Pan," said Henry with a little seriousness.

"Disney?" echoed Killian.

"Wait, seriously?" asked Emma. Henry turned a page, and she saw a very dark drawing of a boy that looked quite more sinister than the Peter Pan from the film she's seen dozens of times. "Did Disney get anything right?" Emma asked Henry.

"What's 'Disney'?" asked Killian again, looking between them.

Emma lifted her head, looking at him. "Um, long story short, it's where I first heard of fairytale stuff." At his continued puzzlement, she said, "It's what I believed about Jack and the Beanstalk before you told me what actually happened."

"Sounds like a lovely tale. But the real story is a bit more gruesome."

"Ah," said Killian. Looking back at the book, he lifted his brow. "You're saying," he said slowly, "that in this realm, my story is considered a fairytale?"

"Everyone's, actually." said Emma. "Disney made a bunch of movies—" Killian's brow lifted. Emma looked to Henry, like she didn't know how to explain it.

"Moving pictures that look like real life, kinda like a theatre show but as drawings," supplied Henry.

"Yeah, that," said Emma with a smile. "They're usually made for kids to watch. One of them is yours."

His brow lifted more. "So you've known of me since you were young?"

"Uh, a version of you," said Emma, looking like she was trying not to smile.

"Most have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker: Hook."

"As in… Captain Hook?"

"Ah, so you've heard of me."

"That was how you'd heard of me when we met?" asked Killian in disbelief. He'd simply guessed his reputation had preceded him.

"Yeah," said Emma with that smile. "But the, um, movie-version of you looks nothing like you." At more of his confusion, she said, "It's a compliment, believe me."

But Henry smiled a wry grin, saying, "We gotta have a movie night."

Killian still didn't quite understand what that meant—as well as not exactly keen on seeing this less-handsome version of himself—but anything with these two was something he wanted to do.

"When you were in Neverland, did you see mermaids and sirens and stuff?" asked Henry eagerly.

"Too many," said Hook honestly. "They're some of the most vile creatures I've come across."

"Mermaids?" echoed Emma. "Mermaids are evil now?"

"You've a lot to learn," said Killian, smiling.

Henry turned a few pages, as if looking for something, but Killian caught something on one of the pages that made him say, "What's this?"

Henry looked at him, then turned back the page as if to see what Killian saw, and when he did, Henry grinned. "Mom's story," he said, looking from the page displaying a painted scene of what looked like the Prince, holding a swaddled baby, a name stitched in the cloth reading Emma.

And Killian suddenly realized he knew very little about Emma's story.

All he did know was that Emma was some sort of Savior, that she'd grown up alone outside the curse that froze everyone in town for thirty years, including her parents. It was certainly something he was sure was strange: to meet one's parents and be of the same physical age.

"May I hear this story?" he asked tentatively, eyes on Emma, not wanting to push the vulnerability she's already given so much of.

She met his eyes, the interest in them, and she smiled hesitant permission, like it touched her that he wanted to know.

"It's my favorite story of all," said Henry with a grin, and Killian saw Emma's lips widen, the smile becoming a little less hesitant. Pointing to the picture, where David's expression was grim, Henry said, "Mom was born the night the Dark Curse was enacted. She was prophesied to be the Savior, the one to break the curse." Henry turned the page, displaying David setting baby Emma in a wardrobe—something that rang a bell, as the one Cora had taken the ashes from for its enchantment. "Emma wouldn't be able to break the Curse if she got swept up in it too, so Grandma and Grandpa had to send her through the wardrobe to this world so she could meet her destiny…"

With a wide grin to Emma, Henry went on, explaining the story of how he received the storybook and found Emma in a village he called Boston. The tale was quite incredible, and Killian only thought more and more what a tough lass Emma truly was. It also filled in many of the holes in his understanding—why Regina had ended up with Henry, why Emma was this Savior, and how Emma had ended up in the Enchanted Forest.

Back then, on the Beanstalk, Killian had known Emma was trying to get back to her child, but only now he understood just how important, how strong her mission truly had been.

And more than that, hearing her story only reminded him of just how far they'd come.

And from the smile on her lips, and the way her fingers tightened around his, she felt just the same.

"I'm still jealous Mom and Grandma got to see the Enchanted Forest," said Henry, tucking the storybook back into his backpack.

"Jealous?" echoed Emma with a lift of her brow. "Kid, the place was crawling with killer ogres."

"Cool," breathed Henry.

Emma just shook her head and Killian laughed.

But Emma looked at Killian before looking back at Henry, saying, "Well, when the beans are ready… I'm sure your Captain wouldn't mind taking us on some adventures."

Henry's eyes widened. "Really?!"

"Aye," said Killian, smiling at Henry's enthusiasm.

"Can we start with today?" asked Henry eagerly. "I wanna go sailing!" To Emma— "Can we?!"

"I don't see why not," said Emma, trading a smile with Killian. She released Killian's fingers, reaching for something, then cursed under her breath. "I forgot my cash in the car," she said.

But Killian straightened. "I can pay, love," he said.

But Emma rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Granny's doesn't take doubloons." Standing, she said, "I'll be right back."

Emma walked outside, smiling to herself.

The afternoon couldn't get more perfect.

She found her car where she parked it at the corner, since apparently everyone was at Granny's today, and she grabbed her wallet from the center console. She shut her door, about to head back to the diner when she heard something that sent an icy chill down her spine, making her freeze.

"Emma?"

She whipped around, jaw dropping because she knew that voice, absolute dread filling her chest, mixing with the shock.

But her ears weren't wrong.

He was standing there, right behind her.

Here.

In Storybrooke.

It couldn't be.

Neal.


Killian smiled to himself with victory, for the establishment did accept doubloons, with the impending move back to the Enchanted Forest on the horizon.

His reputation might have helped avoid any retaliation other than the eyeroll he got from the server, but it made him grin, for he wasn't about to let Emma pay for their first meal together.

The lad said something about using the 'bathroom', which Killian wasn't quite sure the reason was for. There was certainly much he needed to learn about this realm, which for being the only one without magic, was more vexing than any other land he's seen.

Henry insisted he'd meet them at 'the car', and Killian went to find Emma, and perhaps take advantage of the few moments of alone time away from the lad's eyes.

But as Killian left the tavern, turning around the corner, he froze on the sidewalk, smile faltering.

Emma was standing a dozen feet down the sidewalk looking pale as a ghost, standing opposite a man Killian didn't recognize. The man smiled a little at her, saying, "Emma," with a familiarity. He took a step toward her, but Emma stumbled a step back.

Every nerve lit with protectiveness, and Killian was at her side in seconds. "Emma," said Killian tightly, eyes narrowing at the man. "Who—"

But the man shifted his attention to Killian, his brows shooting up in surprise. "Hook?" he said with disbelief, and just as much familiarity.

It made Killian look at him.

Really looked at him.

And it struck him in an instant—Milah's eyes.

This was Baelfire.

Baelfire.

Now Emma's reaction made perfect sense.

Killian felt absolute rage rise within him.

And before he even knew what he was doing, he was landing his fist in the bastard's face.

Baelfire hadn't expected it, still having been in shock at seeing him, and he fell back, dropping something to the ground, and Killian saw with a burst of fury that it was the Crocodile's cane.

Before Baelfire could recover, Killian grabbed him by the collar, throwing him against the wall behind him, making the man grimace. His own eyes opened with anger, and he fought against Killian's hold, but Killian only glared deeper, pinning him there.

"What the hell—?" exclaimed Baelfire, but Killian cut him off with a sharp shove. "Emma—" he began, but her name from his lips only made Killian growl.

"Don't you bloody dare speak her name," hissed Killian, shoving him even harder, eliciting a wince from Baelfire. "Now get out of this bloody town before I make you."

"I'm not going anywhere," growled Baelfire. "Now get off me!" He pushed against Killian, but Killian didn't release him an inch. Baelfire huffed in frustration, looking to Emma, who was still frozen behind Killian. "Emma, my place was trashed—"

Out of the corner of his eye, Killian saw Emma flinch.

"Leave." hissed Killian.

But Baelfire's eyes were still on Emma. "I came to… make sure you were okay," he said hollowly. "It looked like something… happened—"

Killian shoved him even harder against the wall, making him cringe. "You left her to be killed, and you have the audacity to return?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

But Baelfire's eyes shot wide with surprise. "Killed?" he echoed, brows twisting with shocked confusion. "What are you even talking—"

"Your father nearly beat her to death," he hissed, every ounce of fury he felt in his voice, cutting the words as sharp as the end of his hook, "and I have half a mind to do the same to you for sending her back to him!"

For a handful of seconds, Baelfire looked sincerely horrified.

"He what?" said Baelfire hollowly. He looked at Emma, who had gone even a shade whiter.

Killian nearly wanted to strangle the man.

But the gears seemed to work in Baelfire's head, and he shut his eyes, his own face seeming to lose color. "God," he breathed. Opening his eyes, looking at Emma, he said, "Emma, I—I had no idea that—"

"Hell you did!" growled Killian with another shove.

"I mean," huffed Baelfire, "I wasn't… when I… when you… I wasn't… I wasn't thinking about…"

"Anyone except your bloody self," finished Killian for him, feeling the urge to slug him another time. "You're bloody lucky I found the Crocodile before he did something more unthinkable to her."

That made Baelfire tense, fear in his own eyes, saying, "Where is he now?"

"Dead." Killian said bluntly, never bloody tired of saying it.

Baelfire tore his eyes from Emma to look back at Killian, utter shock dawning, and he suddenly looked like the boy he had once been. Baelfire looked to the discarded cane on the ground, then slowly to Killian. "You killed him?" he breathed, a new sort of horrified shock in his eyes. Until irrational fury took its place and he growled, "You son of a—"

"You're angry?" breathed Killian with utter disbelief. Baelfire hid from him for the past two centuries. "He crushed your mother's heart, failed you and nearly killed Emma and you have the bloody nerve to be angry?" demanded Killian.

Baelfire hesitated, looking suddenly lost. Overwhelmed. A mix of emotions battled for purchase in his eyes, landing on a sad sort of shock. "He's dead?" breathed Baelfire tonelessly.

"Aye." ground out Killian. "And unless you want to join him, leave."

Baelfire seemed to be frozen in shock, a million emotions rushing through his eyes. But he took a breath as if to steady himself, cutting through his shock. He narrowed his eyes, pushing against Killian's hold, growling, "I don't know what the hell it means to you, but this is between me and Emma, so get the hell—"

"I want you to leave."

Both men froze at Emma's voice.

Her words were small, and Killian could tell how much she had meant for it to come out as a demand, but her voice shook around the words, leaving it more a plea than anything.

"Emma," said Baelfire, but Killian cut him off with a hiss of, "You heard the lady." He shoved Baelfire roughly away from him, making him stumble and nearly fall.

"Emma—" said Baelfire, shooting a glare toward Killian, "I'm not leaving you alone with this guy. I don't know what he's told you but he's a monster—"

But that made a fire cut through the vulnerability in Emma's eyes, narrowing her eyes to slits. "Killian is not a monster," she snapped, words dripping with anger, and Killian felt her hand grab his right arm, like it was a reflex.

And despite it all, Killian would never cease being utterly floored by how much she's grown to care for him.

"Wait," said Neal, eyes shifting from her hand to her face, and then Killian's. "Wait," he repeated, stumbling back a step. "'Killian'?" he repeated, glaring sharply at Killian. "Don't fricken tell me you're with him!"

Killian had thought she'd have let go of him at once, but she didn't.

Her fingers tightened around his arm.

"Neal—" she began, voice just barely holding a tremor to it, like loose bolts on tight steel.

But Baelfire's anger turned to Killian, and he took a step toward him, and Killian took one in front of Emma, blocking her. "You take my mother and then you take Emma? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Killian felt fury boil in his chest, but before he could respond, the chime to Granny's sounded again, and suddenly Henry's voice rang out. "Mom! Captain! I'm—" Henry froze on the sidewalk, seeing Emma, Killian, and…

Baelfire.

His father.

Bloody hell.

Killian watched fear jump into Emma's eyes.

Henry felt the tension immediately. Looking across their faces, then settling on Emma, Henry asked, "M-Mom? What's going on?"

But the Mom caught Baelfire's attention, his brows lifting sharply in surprise. He looked at Emma, his anger forgotten. "Who's this?"

"Henry, let's go," whispered Emma, and ripping herself from her shock, let go of Killian to guide Henry away. Baelfire took a step toward her, but Killian stepped firmly in his path, blocking her.

"Kid," called Baelfire, a brand new sort of shock settling into his face. "How old are you?"

Before Killian or Emma could stop him, Henry turned with confusion and replied, "Eleven. Why?"

Emma shut her eyes at the same time Killian felt a mix of dread and fury.

Baelfire, however, was staring at Henry as if he were a ghost.

"Emma." came Baelfire's hollow voice.

Emma froze.

Killian went to grab him again, force him out of the bloody town, but Baelfire stepped away from him, saying, "Emma, is…?" He swallowed hard, face drained of color. "Is… is this my son?"

Emma looked at him, every bit of fear and pain answering enough.

Baelfire's hand lifted to his mouth, and he stumbled back another step.

Henry looked between them, putting pieces in place. "Is that..?" he began, turning to Baelfire, with mirrored shock. "My… dad?"

Absolute silence descended over them, holding them in the most painful tension Killian has ever felt.

"Why didn't you tell me?" exclaimed Baelfire, suddenly angry again.

The look in Emma's eyes was tortured, and Killian has had more than enough. "Get the bloody hell out of here," hissed Killian.

"I just learned that I have a son," said Baelfire incredulously. "There's no way I'm going anywhere!"

And Killian heard the smallest intake of breath from behind him—Emma.

He turned, seeing her looking terrified.

And then, she turned and ran.

"Emma—" began Killian. His hand reflexively shot out to catch her, but she was gone, disappearing around the corner. Killian turned to follow, but Baelfire did the same, and with fury, he stepped firmly in his way, no way in hell letting him anywhere near her.

"How could you leave?"

Both Killian and Baelfire looked at the source of the tiny voice—Henry. He was looking at Baelfire, heartbreak in his eyes, something that tore at Killian's chest, because no child should ever experience such an emotion.

It took Baelfire a moment to find his voice. "I'm sorry… I didn't know that you exis—"

But Henry's eyes welled with tears, and he cut him off with, "How could you leave Emma?"

And Baelfire suddenly looked like he'd been hit with something far more painful than Killian's punch.

Henry shook his head at Baelfire, and took off after Emma, disappearing around the same corner. And Killian breathed out, glad she wouldn't be alone.

Fixing his glare onto Baelfire, Killian said, "Have you not caused her enough pain?" Before Baelfire could interrupt, Killian said firmly, "You've spent so bloody long evading your father that you've become him." Baelfire flinched. "You of all people should understand the wishes of one who does not want someone in their life. Father or not." Finally, Baelfire was stunned to silence. "Now leave."

Baelfire stood in shocked silence for a moment, all the color having drained from his face.

Then, with a hard swallow, he turned.

And he walked away.

Killian watched until Baelfire disappeared from sight, a muscle working furiously in his jaw.

Then, Killian bent, picking up the cane from the ground, his own memory flashing back to both his and Emma's time as victim to it.

He snapped it over his knee, the wood splintering as it broke.

And he headed to the docks to dispose of it, intending to find Emma right after.

He didn't exactly know much of the town.

But he knew her.

And he would always find her.


Emma buried her head in her arms, crossed over her bent knees, desperately trying not to cry.

"I just found out I have a son. I'm not going anywhere!"

It felt like a nightmare.

Her eyes burned, and Emma suddenly regretted not bringing Killian with her, because she suddenly had no walls to hold herself up anymore and she didn't know what to do.

But when she gets scared, she…

Runs.

She lifted her face from her arms, staring out at the water. She didn't know where she was running to, she was running to run, but she wound up at the beach.

Little footsteps suddenly approached, and Emma turned, finding Henry running to her through the sand.

"Mom," he said breathlessly, brows creased with worry. "Are you okay?"

Emma took a breath, trying to keep the emotions inside, fighting the intense urge to cry. "Yeah," she lied, trying a smile that didn't make it past a grimace. "No," she relented.

Henry settled himself on the sand beside her, and Emma wrapped her arm around him, feeling him hug her, head resting on her shoulder. They were quiet for a moment, before Henry broke the silence.

"So… that guy…" Emma tensed. "That's really him?"

It took Emma a moment to find her voice, trying to remind herself that she's Henry's mother, and she needed to be the rock. But it was like trying to build walls with straw. "Yeah," she managed, her voice barely a whisper.

Henry shifted his head on her shoulder, his own eyes on the waves. "I always wondered what he looked like."

Emma felt her eyes shut.

"Emma, you of all people should know how important that is."

Emma didn't need to imagine what Henry was talking about.

She'd lived it.

She'd spent twenty-eight years wondering what her parents looked like, which similarities they might have shared. Often, mostly when she was younger, looking at the strangers she passed on the sidewalk, wondering if she saw her nose or her face shape. Staying up, late at night, wondering what her parents' voices sounded like. There was so much beyond wanting to know why they didn't want her. It was a part of her she never got to know, something that felt like it was missing even as an adult.

Summoning up every ounce of her courage, something that felt so incredibly breakable, Emma opened her eyes. "Henry," she said softly, voice just barely holding together. "If you…" Her voice caught, but she forced herself to get the words out. "If you want… if you want to m-meet him," the words felt like verbal agony, "it's… okay."

Henry lifted his head off her shoulder, looking at her in surprise. "Mom," he said slowly, "I already told you on the ship. I don't—"

"I just… I know what it feels like," said Emma hollowly. "To wonder." Henry fell silent, like he'd forgotten they'd both grown up without their birthparents.

Henry seemed to think about it, pulling his knees up to his chest, and Emma wondered if he knew he mirrored the position she was in. He stared at the water, and Emma watched him, her chest tight as too-mature emotions played out in his eyes.

Finally, Henry whispered, "I liked it better when I thought he was a firefighting hero."

Emma felt her eyes sting a little at the sadness, the disappointment in his voice. The wish for things to be different than they were.

Emma knew that, and lived that, just as much.

She pulled her knees in a little tighter, thinking about the stories she'd made up in her head, of who her parents would be. Like any orphan, her best fantasies were that her parents were some sort of heroes. Obviously as she grew up, reality painted a dark picture, dulling the fantasies to realism; that her parents perhaps just had her by accident. That they didn't mean to have her, didn't consider her a blessing, and didn't want her, period.

But, like a one in a million lifetimes miracle, those youthful fantasies ended up being true.

Not only were her parents heroes, they were freaking Snow White and Prince Charming, and if the Curse hadn't struck, they would have kept her and raised her and loved her her whole life.

But ever since that day in Storybrooke, the day the Curse broke, the day everyone woke up, when she learned it was true, Snow White and Prince Charming—her mother and her father—had pulled her into their arms like she was the only thing in the entire universe.

And yet…

Since then, it hasn't… felt like they were her parents.

It was like they were heroes

…but they weren't her heroes.

"You found us."

All her life, Emma had always wanted to be found.

"She saved all of us."

All her life, Emma had waited to be saved.

"We're together, finally," Mary Margaret had said. "And… I can't help but think you're not happy about it."

"No matter what the circumstances," she'd told them, speaking of such feelings for the first time in years, "for twenty-eight years, I only knew one thing: that my parents sent me away."

"We did that to give you your best chance."

"You did it for everyone." Emma had said.

What she had wanted to say, however, was "You did it for everyone else."

Because that's what it was.

"And that's… great," Emma'd told them. "But it doesn't change the fact that my whole life… I've been alone."

"But if we hadn't sent you away, you would have been cursed, too."

"But we would have been together. Which curse is worse?"

Emma knew the answer to that, and knew it all too well.

Any attempt to allude to how horrible her life was, despite Mary Margaret's, "Get used to someone putting you first," something that Emma had thought was the beginning of truly feeling like she was talking to her true, actual mother… was gone just as quickly, pushed to the back burner for the sake of crises that would never really stop.

"You never asked."

"You're right. We didn't ask."

And now with their throne and their Kingdom

Emma knew they never would.

She didn't feel like their daughter, and they didn't feel like her parents.

And she had begun to wonder if she would have preferred never knowing them at all.

"I'm sorry, kid," whispered Emma, at a loss for what to say, for a way to get that sadness out of his eyes. Sadness she feels just as deeply as he does, that she doesn't have an answer for either.

He was quiet for a long moment, until he finally broke the stillness in the air.

"I don't want him as my dad."

"You don't?" breathed Emma.

"I have two moms," he said with a grin that nearly erased the pain in his eyes. "I think I'm all set."

Emma felt relief course through her like cool water, and tears burned behind her eyes. She hugged him, feeling him hug her back just as tightly.

More footsteps suddenly approached, richening the scent of the sea in the air, and Emma felt her heart jump even before she saw him.

She and Henry got up, seeing Killian approach, a heavy concern in his face until he saw her. He smiled a little, and Emma felt herself smile too, because he keeps coming back, and she hugged him tight, burying her face in his chest.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly into her hair, arms wrapping around her, tight and sure.

And she couldn't bring herself to lie to him, so she just shook her head, and felt him hold her tighter. A tear slipped down her cheek, and even despite how much everything hurt right now, Killian shined through, feeling safe and right and like cool water over the emotional fire raging inside.

"He's gone," said Killian gently.

Emma turned to look at him. "He is?" she breathed.

"Aye." he said with a quick little smile at the corners of his lips. "I will never let anyone hurt you again," he whispered, so delicately, and Emma smiled brokenly against his chest.

But she pulled back, wiping the tear before Henry could see it, and smiled a genuine smile at him, seeing him return it with relief of his own.

"Can…"

Both Emma and Killian looked back to Henry, who was looking at them with a slightly guilty, slightly hopeful expression as he said, "Can we still go sailing?"

It made a wet laugh escape Emma and a chuckle from Killian, who touched her cheek, wiping away what was left of the tear that fell, and he said, "It might be just what she needs," he mused with a little smile.

At Henry's smile, Emma smiled, feeling Killian's fingers slip into hers.

They were all that she needed.

Henry started toward the docks, and Emma moved to follow, but Killian's hand in hers tugged her back a little. She turned, seeing his smile traded for something more serious, more sober.

"What?" asked Emma softly.

He touched her face again, that seriousness only deepening in his eyes. Emma felt her breath still like the surface of water untouched by wind. And softly, each word spoken with a heaviness, a certainty, a promise, he said, "I will never leave you."

Emma felt her eyes burn.

He kept promising it, over and over.

And he kept keeping it.

She smiled, and he mirrored it.

The trip around the coast was medicine all on its own, and Emma felt much of the anxiety and shock of seeing Neal washing off. The sea was truly calming, just as much so as watching Henry and Killian together at the helm.

Killian spent nearly the whole time at her side, kissing her when Henry wasn't looking, and Emma has never been cheered up like this before.

She couldn't remember… anyone cheering her up before.

And just like that, her shattered heart was piecing itself back together.


It was evening by the time Killian walked Emma and Henry back to the loft.

Emma unlocked the door, opening it, looking cautiously inside before turning back to him with a smile, and a touch of relief. "They're still not here. Want to… come in?"

Killian felt himself smile.

It was the first time he'd been invited into Emma's home, and he tried to keep the excitement from showing too much on his face. He nodded. "I'd love to."

"I'll make the cocoa!" said Henry, who was taking off his backpack and slinging it on the back of one of the chairs at the table. He went straight for the cabinet, and pulled out three mugs.

Killian felt himself pause at the doorway.

Three mugs.

Three.

Emma pulled him inside after her, smiling at the look on his face, and she and he took a seat at the table. Killian felt his gaze drawn to the room, more than curious about Emma's home. He could already tell that most of this wasn't her style, and most of the possessions weren't hers. She still hadn't settled here. With a sadness, he knew from the way she spoke of her life, that she hadn't settled anywhere. He understood the lifestyle; all of the things he possessed that he kept with him throughout travels could fit in one small box on his ship. He'd tell everyone it was freedom, but it wasn't. Perhaps not all who wander are lost, but in his case, and in Emma's, there was no better word to describe how they'd been.

Lost.

Until now.

Until each other.

His eyes fell back to Emma, finding her eyes on him, watching him as he took in the room.

And it just touched him more than anything, that after the afternoon she had, the turmoil Baelfire had arisen in her again… that she was smiling.

Because of him.

"Here," said Henry, carrying—quite precariously—three full mugs of something steaming. He put one in front of Emma first. "Cocoa makes everything better."

Emma smiled wider, a rosy tint to her cheeks at the gesture, and she took the mug, sipping it and shutting her eyes. The drink certainly seemed to do its job.

Henry placed the next one in front of Killian before sitting down himself, and he looked down at it, trying to decipher what it was.

"Do they have hot cocoa in the Enchanted Forest?" asked Henry.

"Ah… I'm not quite sure," said Killian. "I haven't encountered it myself."

"It's milk and chocolate," said Emma. "And cinnamon, but that's not as common. It's something that was sort of… passed down in our family, I guess."

"Because it's awesome," said Henry after another sip.

Killian tentatively tried it, brows shooting up at the intense amount of sugar. But he schooled his expression, saying, "Very, ah, sweet."

"You like it?" asked Henry eagerly.

"Aye," said Killian honestly, though he didn't think he could finish the whole thing.

"People put rum in it, too," said Emma with a sly grin.

Killian's brow raised, and his smile mirrored hers. "Oh?"

Emma laughed, and Killian would never, ever, stop adoring the sound of her happiness.

Not long after, time filled with Henry questioning Killian about what was and wasn't in the Enchanted Forest—something about will my GameBoy work there, which Killian could not even begin to understand—the door opened with the return of Emma's parents.

They paused when they saw the three of them at the table together, eyes settling on him, and Killian could see just how strange his presence still was for them, despite his… change of character.

But their hesitation only lasted a moment.

"Emma, Henry…" said Snow, looking at Killian, pausing where his name should go, and she said, "Is it all right to call you… Killian?"

It felt like acceptance all over again.

He felt the need to rub the spot behind his ear, a nervous tick, but Emma's hand was still in his. She seemed to notice it, and she smiled at him, tightening her fingers around his reassuringly.

Killian smiled at her before responding to her mother with, "Of course. Thank you, Your Highness," he added, softer.

Snow smiled too. "On the subject, Mary Margaret, or, well, Snow is fine." At Killian's nod, Snow said to to Emma, "What did you three get up to today?"

Killian felt Emma tense, and Henry exchanged a look with him before they both looked at Emma, who swallowed before saying, "Um…" But she forced a smile that could have fooled Killian if he didn't know better, and she said, "Nothing too exciting. How was the town-kingdom meeting, or whatever it was?"

Killian's thumb brushed over the back of Emma's hand, but neither he nor Henry voiced Baelfire's appearance. The bastard was gone, and if Emma wanted to forget about it… well, that's what they would do.

"Oh, it was great," gushed Snow. "We've got a few plans in place for reconstruction, and Anton told us the first two beans he planted will be ready tomorrow afternoon!"

"Really?!" exclaimed Henry, shooting off his chair.

"Really," said David, ruffling his hair.

"That means we can get back home as soon as tomorrow evening!" said Snow with a grin.

Killian watched Emma smile at him, and he returned it.

"I'd like to see the world with you, love."

Bloody hell, tomorrow couldn't get here fast enough.

"How about dinner?" asked Snow, heading toward the kitchen. "We haven't eaten since breakfast, things have been so busy."

"I'm starving," said Henry, sitting back on the chair, watching Snow pull ingredients out of the fridge.

Killian suddenly felt uncomfortable, a feeling that traveled through his whole body.

He stood, seeing Emma's smile falter.

"I, ah," he began, smiling something that didn't reach his eyes. "I'll… leave you to it then."

But before Emma or Henry could protest, Snow said, "There's plenty to go around if you'd like to stay."

Killian felt shock trail through him.

And Emma smiled.

For a moment, Killian couldn't find his voice.

David was beside Snow, arms crossed, looking at Killian with a mix of feelings in his eyes. But he sighed, and said, "I'll get another chair."

Killian was speechless.

He cleared his throat a little, sinking back to the chair, with a respectful nod and barely audible, "...Thank you."

Killian had expected it to feel awkward, uncomfortable, the five of them together at the table.

But… it felt strangely normal.

Smiling, she said, "There's just so much to do! We'll have to rebuild so many homes, and the castle…" Something cast over her expression, and David squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "It needs… a lot of work." To Emma, she said, "How does it feel, Emma? You're about to not only be a princess, but live like one!"

Emma seemed to choke a little on her drink, and Killian felt his brows crease, his hand finding her forearm under the table. She shot a little reassuring smile to him before saying, "Um… yeah." Her words weren't convincing in the least.

Killian had nearly forgotten, himself, that Emma was royalty.

And it seemed she had, as well.

"Oh, David," gushed Snow, "we have to throw a ball as soon as we can. Emma's never had one."

"Absolutely," he said with a smile.

"A ball?" asked Emma, looking increasingly unsure. "With, like… puffy dresses and dancing and stuff?"

"All of it!" said Snow excitedly.

Emma bit her lip, shifting uncomfortably. "I, um, you really don't have to—"

"I know, but I want to," said Snow, reaching her hand to lay on Emma's free hand, and Killian felt her tense a little through his own touch on her other arm.

Emma forced a smile. "Um, I guess."

"Can someone finally teach me how to swordfight?!" asked Henry exasperatedly.

"You're a prince," said David, ruffling Henry's hair. "That and more, kiddo."

"Yes," said Henry with a grin. "Can we come back to Storybrooke once a month so I can watch TV?"

David reached over to ruffle his hair. "I can't see why not. I might actually join you on that one." He took a sip of his drink before looking at Killian, leaning back to say, "So, what about you, Hook?"

It was Killian's turn to tense a little. "What about me?" he asked cautiously.

"Will you be joining us in the Enchanted Forest?" he asked, crossing his arms, like he was attempting to ask casually, but it was a very transparent attempt.

Killian felt an enormous amount of pressure from the question, as eyes turned on him, and he truly wished for a free hand to scratch behind his ear. "I, ah…" He cleared his throat. With a look to Emma, he said, "As long as the invitation stands."

Because he'd follow her anywhere.

Anywhere at all.

Even if that made him trade leather for something more suitable to associated with a princess.

He'd trade anything to be with her.

Emma smiled back, with the promise that that invitation wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm happy to hear that," said Snow, shooting David a don't look, though Killian could tell she didn't need to. And that was shocking all on its own.

He was very, very slowly winning over the prince.

And it was a bloody miracle to see.

"Tomorrow we're holding a town meeting," said Snow, "to announce the return home tomorrow night." But she suddenly looked at David, saying, "We should pack!"

Dinner ended quickly after, with Snow and David organizing what they'd take back with them. Henry had announced that he already packed up his bedroom at Regina's. Killian was planning on taking the Jolly Roger, meaning his belongings were already ready to go.

Emma had left to go to her 'room', on the second landing of the loft, and came back within three minutes, with only one bag.

"That's all you're taking?!" asked Snow, pausing on her own bag, when she saw.

Emma bit her lip. "Yup."

Snow just shook her head like she couldn't understand, and smiled before moving on with her own things.

But Killian understood, all too well.

He could not bloody wait to take Emma on a true adventure with him, to give her good memories, ones that didn't darken her eyes like the emotion that was in them now.

Henry then insisted on showing Killian some certain Disney movies while they still had 'electricity', they'd coined it. Both Emma and Henry had a sort of amusement when the magic-like box lit up with images, and it only took Killian a few moments to realize why.

This was the 'movie' that they'd mentioned at the tavern this afternoon, the one that features him.

Killian watched the buffoon-version of himself in utter shock.

Until he heard Emma laugh at his reaction, that musical sound of her happiness, and suddenly the momentary offense was gone, and it was bloody worth it.

Emma had cheered up quite a bit to see Killian's reaction to his cartoon-self. Killian had sat on the couch, and Emma next to him, Henry sprawled on pillows on the floor. David and Mary Margaret even joined for the first half.

Killian was still mentally shaking his head at the cartoon on the 'teevee', as they called it, but had most of it tuned out by now.

His eyes were on Emma, who had fallen asleep against him, seeming at peace in her rest.

It made him smile.

Henry, too, was passed out on the floor, in the sea of pillows he'd set up for himself.

The Queen and prince—or, King, rather, though it was strange to think of him as that now—had gotten up not long ago to prepare for their own rest.

Killian was suddenly unsure if he was welcome to stay, and he looked at Emma, absolutely loathe to wake her. To be away from her even for a moment.

But a blanket was suddenly draped over the arm of the couch, making Killian look up, seeing David standing behind him.

At the slight hesitation between them, Killian looking from Emma to her father, heart picking up a little, David just said, "If you need another, there's more over there." He gestured to an armchair, with two folded-up blankets.

Killian didn't look at the armchair.

He stared in shock at Emma's father, insinuating permission for him to spend the night.

David seemed to find Killian's surprise amusing, and acceptable, and he said, "Night."

Unable to find his voice, Killian just nodded, and David walked away.

The lights went out, and Emma and Henry slept on.

Killian remained awake for nearly another hour, just watching them. Just basking in the moment before falling asleep himself, Emma pulled snugly, tightly, safely to his chest, feeling like the luckiest man in all the realms.