a/n: it seems everyone wants an epilogue! Pretty much all fluff, so if that's not your thing, I'm not sure how you got here… haha

Thanks for all of your support again. I really, really appreciate all of your kind words and gestures of kindness. Hope you like this epilogue!

/

"We'll buy a house in Storybrooke and adopt a dog. We'll give Henry a few brothers and sisters. Your parents will adore me. And we'll spend far too much time forgetting that any of this ever happened. But, I do reckon we'll argue about paint chips while we're working on remodeling the house. Unfortunately."

/

Epilogue

SPRING

In early spring, Killian and Emma buy a house a few blocks away from her parents, not wanting to be too far from town, but still needing their own space.

It's a beautiful home on the corner, with a huge backyard and a generous floor plan. There are three bedrooms that they can fill with children, or so Killian imagines.

He learns that Emma really likes big windows to let light in, and he tells her that it makes sense, because since they met, she'd brought a lot of light into his life. She rolls her eyes at him, but he knows she appreciates it.

There isn't a lot to unpack on the first day, with the sum total of their furniture coming from Emma's abandoned apartment. They don't need much. Not yet.

He finds Emma sitting in their bedroom once Henry's been put to sleep in his own bedroom just up the hall. She seems tired, maybe a little emotionally worn out from everything that happened.

"Hey," Killian says, sitting beside her. He rubs her lower back, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You alright, love?"

Emma meets his eyes, giving him a small smile. "Yeah. I'm just tired. It was a long day."

He hums knowingly. They stare at one another for a few moments, silent. Killian finds that he can't stop grinning. This has been a day he's looked forward to for a while. The opportunity to live in a beautiful home with his family is beyond exciting.

"We should get married."

"Married?"

He nods, hoping she knows he's serious. Killian stands up so he can kneel in front of her. "I love you so much, Emma. I want you to know I'll always, always be by your side. Will you marry me?"

She tilts her head to the side just slightly. Her eyes become watery and she reaches for his hand to squeeze it. "I can't argue with that."

"Is that a yes?"

Emma laughs a little. "Yes. It is."

They decide to have their wedding as quickly as they can, not wanting to waste any time.

The idea both confuses and delights her parents. Mary Margaret immediately wants to help, something Emma is grateful for, and David questions him for about an hour in the privacy of his study about his true intentions.

Over the course of a few far too short weeks, Killian works on fixing a few odds and ends around the house while Emma plans an intimate wedding for them.

He learns her natural routines and schedules. Tries to fit as much time in with her as he can in between work and trying to prepare for both a wedding and a baby.

She introduces him to her friends. Belle the town librarian, Robin and Regina the happily married barkeepers, and Ruby the fashion designer.

He meets friends of his own at work at the harbor, too. Will, who keeps him on his toes, and Graham who would rather work in the forest. They go for beers on nights when Emma's friends are over helping with wedding prep.

He can't help but laugh when they clash heads over paint chips.

She's right. Of course she's right. She always is.

They form traditions out of game nights and group dinners. Their friends watch Henry on occasion, and in turn, Killian offers them free outings on the water on a ship that he helps run as part of his job.

They get married at the end of the spring, under a canopy of flowers and hanging twinkle lights, in Emma's parent's backyard.

Henry wears a little suit to match Killian's, while Emma makes the most stunning bride in a white dress that flows to the ground. She's glowing, absolutely radiant, though she worries that her baby bump is too obvious to keep hiding it from everyone.

So, once they say "I do", and find themselves slow dancing at the party afterward, Killian asks in a low whisper pressed to her ear, "Are you ready to tell Mom and Dad?"

Emma laughs a little, leaning her head back so she can meet his eyes. "You're going to call them that all the time now, aren't you?"

"If it will irritate your father, absolutely."

His wife- his wife!- tilts her head at him, giving him a soft sigh of disapproval. "We should tell them. Mom's going to flip."

Mary Margaret does, in fact, flip.

/

SUMMER

The summer brings them a new friend called Wilby, who enjoys bones, licking Henry's toes, and long walks along the beach.

Summer brings a nasty sticky heat and messy ice cream cones. Henry's favorite flavor is chocolate. Emma's is mint chocolate chip, which she eats by the pint balanced on her pronounced baby bump.

In the summer, there are fireworks on the Fourth of July, town celebrations, visits to Granny's Diner for lunch during Emma's time off work, outings on boats, trips to the beach, and nights spent sitting outside with friends that seem to always be over to visit.

Emma's sitting in the grass with Henry and Mary Margaret, laughing genuinely at her mother while she squeezes their son's hands.

Ruby's running around with Wilby, complaining about how massive the yard is, while Belle and Will sit at the picnic table with Robin, Regina, and a pack of cards.

"So." Neal says, a gentle unassuming smile on his face, approaching Killian at his spot on the back porch steps. "It's been a few months. What's it like, being married?"

Neal offers him a cold beer. He takes it, shaking his head while he laughs. "Why? Are you thinking of getting married soon?"

Neal sits beside him, sighing as he drapes his arms around his knees at chest level. "Maybe." He sips his drink. "So what's it like?"

If he had to define it, he doesn't think he could. It's not been without its highs and lows, but for the most part, they've enjoyed peace. He thinks they deserve it, after everything that they've been through.

Again, Killian shakes his head. He stares at Emma, at the way she throws her head back to laugh at something Ruby says to her. At the soft stray curls of her ponytail. At the gentle swell of her body in the seventh month of pregnancy.

He can tell even from several feet away that she's glowing.

"It's home."

Neal considers him briefly. He hums into his bottle and has another sip.

It's a bit awkward, because he and Neal haven't shared as much time together as they should. In fact, if he thinks about it, he and Neal hardly know one another.

All he knows is that Emma and Neal were once in a troubled relationship, and now they were friends. If they could even call it that.

"Thank you." Neal says with a tiny smile. "For giving her everything she needs. God knows I was never enough for her."

Killian isn't sure what to say, so he smiles back before looking ahead again. "How did you meet Emma?"

Neal seems to think about it, maybe searching for a good place to start. He takes a steadying breath to prepare for whatever he's about to say.

"I lost my parents growing up. Mom… ran off with another guy and Dad went criminally insane." He stares down at his beer. "Left me to fend for myself. I met Emma at a gas station in Washington state. She was on the run like me."

Killian found himself surprised. Knowing what he did about Neal, he hadn't thought too deeply about his background. It surprised him even more to think that he could understand him. After all, he himself was running from the whole world. For years.

"What were you running from?"

Neal shakes his head. He laughs in spite of himself, a soft chuckle from his nose. "I still don't know, man."

He clears his throat and sets the bottle down on the step beside him.

"I was the same way. Running. Hiding." Killian admits. He shakes his head. "That hole in your chest doesn't go away, does it? Nothing helps."

Neal clenches his jaw as he averts his gaze. "No."

On a soft breath, Killian stands and finds a football in the grass nearby. He kicks it toward Neal to get his attention.

The last time he'd played football was with Liam, years ago, but it was clear to him that Neal needed something powerful to pull him out of himself. He needed a brother.

"My brother and I used to kick the ball back and forth until the sun went down." Killian reminisced. He tipped his head back toward the yard. "What do you say?"

Neal offers him a shrug. "I might be rusty… but sure."

On their way into the yard, Killian stops to help Emma to her feet. She sways into him, caught off balance, and he chuckles, asking, "You okay, love?"

She hums, sighing softly. "Just a little lopsided." Emma glances past him at Neal, who now has the ball scooped up onto the top of his shoe. "You guys are going to kick the soccer ball around?"

"For just a little while." Killian says. "Time to finally get some use out of the yard." He notices her attention rests on the man from her past. "Okay?"

"It's fine," she assures him. "I'm glad you're making friends."

Later that night, while he and Emma prepare for bed in the bathroom, he lifts his eyebrow at her in the mirror. "Are you sure you're alright with me befriending Neal?"

Emma stops brushing her teeth to spit into the sink. When she finishes rinsing her mouth, she shrugs. "It's just a little weird, but it's fine."

"Like… how, weird?" Killian wonders. He turns around so he can lean against the bathroom counter with his hand over his opposite wrist.

His wife sighs. She presses her hands to her lower back. "I don't know. Maybe I'm nervous that now that things are finally kind of normal between us, something will change."

"So Neal feels weird to you."

Emma cringes at that. "No. Not really."

Killian hums. "Did you know that he's taking online classes? He's trying to get a degree to teach."

Her eyes widen in surprise. "No. I didn't."

"I think he's changed. For the better."

Emma turns to look for something on the counter. "Well, then all the best to you and your new bromance. You have my blessing."

He rolls his eyes, smiling, and steps away from the sinks so he can kiss her temple. "You don't have to be okay with it if you're not."

"He needs a friend. You're the best one I can think of around here."

With a clever little smirk, Killian lifts a brow. "Are you saying I'm your best friend?"

Emma, clearly exhausted, rolls her eyes. Hard. "Killian, I'm carrying your child."

"And you're doing it so well, my dear." Killian offers her a kiss. "I love you. You're my best friend. In case you were wondering."

A little blush finds her cheeks and her lashes flutter against her cheeks. "You're my best friend too."

/

FALL

Storybrooke in the autumn is gorgeous, and it's Emma's very favorite thing. She tells him she loves the way the colors turn the streets burnt orange and red, and even though he's seen fall before, he swears it's so much better through her eyes.

She asks him to take them for a drive through the forest on Sunday afternoons so they can show Henry the colors of the trees while Wilby hangs out the window, tongue wagging in the wind.

On mildly cold nights, she comes to bed wearing her bright red flannel pajamas and socks, explaining that she's freezing, but an hour later she'll change because she's too hot.

Henry likes the leaves that pile up in their backyard. He really likes the pumpkin bread that Mary Margaret brings over for them to share, and the way David's pickup truck sounds when it starts.

The autumn is when Emma goes into labor. She grits her teeth and tells him as much while she's trying to fold laundry one late afternoon. It's a blur of lights and colors and sounds. A blur of long hours standing and sitting at her side. A blur of emotions when it's finally time to push.

Brushing back her sweaty hair from her face, allowing her to squeeze the circulation out of his one and only hand, encouraging her as much as she'll let him.

And when it happens, when the first cries break the surface tension, everything else fades away.

Ten tiny fingers. Ten tiny toes.

Pointy little ears and soft dark hair.

Shrieks that turn into gentle whimpers.

Emma, Emma, Emma.

He kisses her soundly and whispers, "You did it. I'm so proud of you, love."

She laughs a little, her eyes filled with tears. She's unable to look away from the newborn on her chest.

"She's so beautiful."

"You're welcome."

Emma looks up at him with a glare.

He chuckles. "I'm only teasing. She clearly gets it all from you."

His heart has never been as full as it is that early autumn morning, standing in a hospital room with his newborn daughter in his arms and his life forever changed.

The town throws an autumn festival, full of games and food along Main Street. There's a hayride that one of his closest friends, Robin, takes them on free of charge.

There are fewer things he thinks are sweeter than seeing his son in a Halloween costume a few weeks later, dressed up like Peter Pan, except maybe seeing his newborn daughter as Tinkerbell.

For many years on the island, Killian ignored holidays. There was no need to celebrate when it was just him, and even fewer reasons while he wallowed in sorrow and grief.

There were a lot of reasons to be thankful this Thanksgiving.

Friends. Family.

It had been so long since he'd had either, but it felt like he'd known them forever.

Finally gathered around the dining table, Killian takes a long look around at the faces of his friends and family.

Emma sits with their daughter in a wrap pressed to her chest, her soft swaths of dark hair peeking out on top, so gentle and sweet. Henry sits between them, happily digging into his meal without any thought.

"I'd like to make a toast." Killian says, standing. He clears his throat. "Thank you for being here. It means a lot to Emma and I that you would choose to come to our home and spend today with us. That's sort of what I'd like to toast, actually, uh… not all of you know this, but for a good portion of my life, I chose to isolate myself. I literally lived on an island. I had nothing to celebrate, and I didn't want to, either."

Pausing, he meets Emma's eyes and returns her smile.

"But this year, I have so much to celebrate. And I want to thank all of you for that. You welcomed me into your community without a second thought. I'm thankful this year for my family." He looks to his children, then to David and Mary Margaret. He turns to the rest of the table. "And for your friendship. Without it, I would be as lost as I once was.

"So, a toast, to the community we have. And to living a life worth celebrating."

"Here here!"

/

WINTER

Winter brings him full circle.

On the first snowfall of the year, Killian wakes to Emma's excited gasps and her hands on his arm, shaking him awake.

"It's snowing! Killian, it's snowing!"

She's out of bed faster than he can open his eyes all the way, already rushing up the hall to get their son out of his crib. With a small smile, he waits for her to return, both of their children in her arms.

She's breathless, her hair still a mess from sleep, yet she's smiling so happily. "Come on, Daddy, we gotta go out and get some of the snow!"

Henry giggles. "Daddy go!"

They work as a team to prepare the children for their first snow of the year, and the moment they step outside, Emma turns to him, absolutely beaming.

It's been a year. A year since the ocean brought her to him.

He can still remember the day she asked him to take her out into the first snow of the season, her eyes shining just as much as they do now.

She doesn't have to say anything for him to know that this is a meaningful day for her. For them.

In one sense, the first snow is a reminder of the beginning of their relationship. The day they'd started to see one another as they truly were.

If there's anything this year has taught him, there's a lot to love about learning Emma and Henry in a world far from the chilly, wintery sea.

Henry loves the snow. He catches snowflakes on his mittens and keeps calling out for them to show them. And then there's footprints in the snow, and tasting snow, and falling in the snow. Crying because the snow is too cold, but laughing the moment he's safe in Killian's arms.

And when they go back inside, all Henry wants to do is rush straight back out into it again.

Storybrooke at Christmastime is a feast of colors, foods, and celebration.

They spend a lot of time with family and friends, gathered together at Granny's for her special holiday menu. Killian and Emma build a snowman that Henry helps them decorate. Mary Margaret and David help them find the perfect, massive tree that goes in their foyer.

On Christmas morning, well before the children have stirred, his wife finds him sitting in front of the fireplace, lined with stockings, reading a book that he swore he'd read months ago. When he was on the island, he could read several books in one sitting. Now, not so much.

"I have a present for you." Emma says, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind.

Killian lifts an eyebrow. "It's not Christmas until the children are up."

She laughs into his ear and then joins him on the sofa, a wrapped gift in her hands. "I know… just trust me."

His mind races, unsure of what this secret gift could possibly be that it would require him to just trust her.

Taking a deep breath, she extends the present toward him. "I've been working on this all year."

He hesitates, his thumb finding the crease in the wrapping paper corner. "Oh, so no pressure, then." He winks at her, smirking. "I'm sure I'll love it."

Quickly, he pulls the paper away from what lies beneath. At first, he isn't sure what he's looking at. It's a hardcover book with the word "Journal" in sprawling cursive on the front.

He flips the book open, curious.

On the first page, there's a date, a small entry, and a photograph. The date is Christmas Eve, only a year ago, and the entry reads:

Today, you told me that you were home here. This journal is going to be a document of that.

The photo is of he, Emma, and Henry sitting in their favorite booth at Granny's. He remembers Mary Margaret insisting that they take a picture on his very first day in town. Now, he's glad he has it.

While he looked absolutely miserable physically, he can still remember not feeling any pain until he had to lie down to sleep that night.

He flips the page. Another entry. The following day.

"I don't think I'm fond of peppermint, Emma." But you still smelled like peppermint all day today.

Killian laughs under his breath, smirking at the photo she'd clearly taken of him incognito, biting a candy cane.

He continues to flip through the journal, addicted to seeing Emma's insights of their experiences.

We argued over paint chips for exactly 3 minutes before you doubled over laughing and let me choose all the right shades of white. Thank you.

A photo of the paint chips in question follows.

Killian continues turning the pages until he finds one day in particular that finally pulls him out of the gift.

Their wedding day.

You smelled like the ocean today.

A photo of he and Henry standing on the beach much later in the night follows. They're both barefoot, standing in the sea foam. He hadn't realized she was taking pictures.

Looking up at Emma, he finds her nervously biting on her lower lip.

"You did this everyday?"

She nods. "Yeah." He flips the page. "Just like your mom's journal. Except this one, I hope, gives you different feelings when you look at it."

Killian hums. "It does."

He can't help but smile, studying a photo of his son kissing Emma's growing bump just a few months ago.

"Look at today."

He does as she asks, flipping all the way to the end of the journal. The final entry is a little bit longer than the others he's had the time to read.

This year, you: bought a house, got married, got a new job, made a lot of friends, had a baby, adopted a dog, watched a lot of cable TV, celebrated every holiday, loved your kids with everything you had, and spent every day in between making a difference. Thank you for choosing us, Killian.

A photo of him and the children sitting at the breakfast table follows. His baby daughter in one arm, Killian's singing one of those silly nursery rhymes along with Henry, who sits at the table beside him, beaming brightly with crinkles by his eyes.

He remembers the giggles, the fit of laughter that came from Henry's belly, and the way his sticky fingers felt against his cheeks and lips when he leaned in close enough.

The photo is pure joy. A true encapsulation of the year they've shared.

Like before, he isn't sure how Emma went unnoticed taking this picture, but he's glad she did.

"This year was special for a lot of reasons, but the biggest reason is that it was your first year away from the island." Emma says. "And I wanted to give you something that proved that it was worth it. That proved you were here and it mattered."

He looks up at her, tears welling in his eyes. He manages to smile softly at her. "Thank you."

Emma puts her right hand on his face, rubbing her thumb against the apple of his cheek. "I know I've said it before, but thank you for being there that day. For me and Henry. This book is proof that we're here, too."

Killian turns his head to kiss her palm. He sets the book aside and determinedly lays Emma back on the sofa with his lips pressed to hers. She runs her fingers through his hair as they languidly share a stolen moment, free of distraction and interruption.

Before he can get too carried away, Killian breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against Emma's.

She bites on her lip after her tongue darts out to soothe it, a twinkle in her eye. "What was that for?"

"For giving this year to me." He looks into her eyes, cocking an eyebrow. "Quite literally."

She hums sweetly, tugging at his hair. "Here's to seventy more, my love."