Killian holds the reins as Jefferson unties the last rope holding the now dead black knights' provisions, pushing them off the opposite side of the horse and letting them all slip to the ground with a heavy thud. After tossing the rope over the horse's back, he casts a sidelong glance at Killian.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he inquires quietly.

Killian doesn't need to ask what his friend is talking about, and a wave of guilt hits him, his eyes unconsciously seeking out the princess sitting on a boulder on the other side of the clearing.

Turning back to his friend, he shakes his head. "I'm sorry, mate. I just… I thought it would be safer for everyone… I thought the fewer people who knew, the better."

To Killian's relief, Jefferson hums in acknowledgement, seemingly satisfied with that answer, before turning to pick up the saddle from the ground and placing it on the horse's back.

"And she's been in Arendelle all this time?" he asks.

"Apparently, yes."

Jefferson nods as he starts working on the fastenings. "It was smart of them to take her there. It's far enough away that her face would not be easily recognizable."

"Yes, well, the King was always a clever one."

"The King?" Jefferson asks, so surprised that he drops the buckle he was working on, "Is he alive, too?"

Killian smiles ruefully, tugging on the reins when the horse shifts nervously. "Yes. He found me – abducted me, actually – in Camelot. He's been there since the fall of the kingdom."

"Camelot?" Jefferson says slowly, crossing his arms over his chest, drawing out the word in a way that makes Killian's brow wrinkle. "Is that a joke?"

"No, it's not," Killian replies.

Jefferson stares at him for a moment before a smile lights his features and he shakes his head with more than a little amusement.

"What is it?" Killian asks.

Jefferson continues to shake his head, a bemused grin on his face as he replies, "Arthur's knights are one of our biggest sources of information. We trade arms to them on a regular basis. I thought King Arthur was planning an offensive but…"

"It's King David," Killian finishes for him.

"Looks that way," he replies, going back to securing the saddle.

"He's been planning this all along," Killian says thoughtfully, absentmindedly stroking the horse's neck. "He's been biding his time all these years, waiting for the right moment to strike."

"Perhaps," Jefferson replies, his eyes on the buckle he's fastening. Then, looking up, he adds, "But, why wait? With the amount of arms he's obtained from us, he has more than enough to take out every single black knight ten times over."

Killian stays silent while he considers that. Yes, why wait, indeed? Why not attack? With David's tactical skill and Arthur's army behind him, Regina's black knights would have been easy to defeat. So, why would he wait?

Sucking in a sharp breath, Killian's eyes fly to Emma who is smiling brightly as she watches Dopey and Grace carefully approach a mother bunny and her babies. The sun is high above, its rays cutting through the trees in a way that illuminates her face while leaving everything else in the shadows. The contrast makes it looks like she's glowing, nearly shimmering, like a goddess or a witch, and more pieces of the puzzle suddenly fall into place.

Maybe David could have defeated Regina's knights – but the Evil Queen herself… That's a different kind of battle. One that won't be won with swords. One that will need something special… Something magical.

Emma.

With her magic.

It's always been Emma. The King has been waiting until Emma was ready, until Emma's magic developed.

And now it has.

"He's been waiting for Emma," Killian says in a low voice, keeping his eyes on the woman in question.

"Waiting for her?" Jeff asks, "What do you mean?"

"Waiting for her to get her magic."

Jefferson looks confused for a moment but then his eyes light up and he smiles wide.

"What?" Killian asks, not sure as to why Jefferson seems so pleased with that information.

"Nothing. I didn't know her magic was a recent development but…" Jefferson trails off, moving to the discarded provisions to search for a water flask, adding with a shrug, "it makes sense."

"Makes sense how?"

"You know, you… and her… together."

Killian shakes his head. "But we're not… together. I mean, we are, in that we're both here – but we're not… or maybe we are… Oh, bloody hell, I don't know but… Things are different now, mate. She and I, we…"

Jefferson chuckles. "You look pretty together from what I've seen."

"Well, we are, kind of, I just… I'm not sure… Things have changed so much and – "

"There's no way things have changed that much," Jefferson cuts him off with a roll of his eyes. "The love between the two of you… It was electric. It was magic, Killian. Literally. Everyone around you could feel it. That kind of love… it doesn't fade. It doesn't disappear. It's always there."

Killian looks away, suddenly unwilling to meet his friend's eyes.

"Ah… It was the pirate thing, wasn't it?" Jeff asks.

With reluctance, Killian nods. Jeff always was an insightful bastard.

"And you let her believe it," Jeff adds shrewdly, turning toward him and resting his elbow on the horse's back.

"It's true, isn't it?" he asks, hearing the contempt in his own voice.

"It's not the whole truth and you know it," Jeff replies with a trace of reprimand.

"It's close enough."

"No, it's not," Jeff says with a hard look. "You might still be dressing like Captain Hook but Captain Hook isn't the villain people think, not anymore. And he hasn't been for a long time. You need to stop seeing yourself that way. You're a hero now, Killian."

Killian starts to protest, but Jefferson doesn't give him the chance, rushing on, "Don't argue. And don't let something she obviously regrets saying get in the way of what you two have. Look at me, Killian."

When he does, Jeff sighs. "We did some terrible things. I'm not going to try to gloss that over. But that was a long time ago. Since then, we've helped a lot of people. You have no idea how many lives we've saved. I don't either, for that matter. But when you stop a family from starving or give someone a weapon to defend themselves and their loved ones, you're saving lives. And that makes you a hero. And just because no one knows it's you, doesn't make it any less true. You should tell her."

Killian is thankful when the horse shifts again, giving him an excuse to concentrate on keeping the animal under control rather than reply. When he glances back to Jeff, his friend has his arms crossed over his chest, giving him a thoughtful look.

"Do you remember what you told me when I met Patricia? When I tried to push her away because of guilt over the things we did?" Jefferson asks.

Killian sighs. He remembers the conversation with perfect clarity, so he knows what's coming next. "I do," he admits softly.

"'All sins can be forgiven when some loves you,'" Jefferson quotes, driving his point home with quiet confidence, "And she loves you."

"She loves Lieutenant Killian Jones."

"And you don't think that's who you are anymore?"

At Killian's shrug, Jefferson voice turns harder, "Well, maybe you're not – not entirely – but the way she looks at you… She doesn't just love the Naval Lieutenant. She loves you. Killian Jones. And all that includes."

With that, Jefferson turns away and finishes the saddle, leaving Killian to consider what he's said.

Killian shoots another look to Emma, now apparently deep in conversation with Ruby. She meets his gaze across the field and smiles at him, making his heart lift.

I don't care what you had to do to survive.

Could Jefferson be right? Does she love the pirate as much as she loved the Naval Lieutenant? Because he'll never be the man he was before, no matter how much he'd like to be. He's seen and done too many things, things that make it impossible to go back, terrible acts he committed during those early years when he was so consumed with revenge. Things that, if she knew, may make her look at him the same way she had the day she woke up.

But Jeff is right about something: The past few years have been focused on more than revenge. It's also been about helping others, easing the burdens the Evil Queen's reign has inflicted on the lands. Still, if he takes Jeff's advice and tells her what he's been doing in recent years, he'll also have to tell her what he did before, the atrocities he committed in the name of vengeance in the years directly after the fall of the kingdom.

The thought of that makes his skin crawl, makes his cheeks redden. Captain Hook had earned the title of villain in those years. And, even though he's been doing his best to make up for them now, he's not entirely sure she'll think it's enough.

When he looks back to Jefferson, it's to see he has now finished the saddle and is leaning up against the horse, waiting for Killian to say something.

"I – " Killian starts, but is cut off when Grace runs head-first into his leg.

The interruption is a welcome one because he's not even sure what he was going to say. He needs time to think. He needs to try to figure out if Jeff is right. He needs to decide whether he's willing to take the chance that he is.

"Papa! Hook! Dopey let me pet the baby bunnies! They're so soft! And he's so good at catching them! And the mama didn't even get mad!"

Jefferson chuckles at his daughter, scooping her up and kissing her forehead. "Dopey has always had a way with animals, angel," he says, "I think it has something to do with the way he approaches them. He's moves slowly. He doesn't bound up on them like a bull in a stampede."

Jefferson adds a poke to the little girl's ribs that has her giggling with delight and squirming in his arms.

Killian can't help but smile at the sight, suddenly overcome with longing to have what Jeff has. He and Patricia have no secrets. They're a team. Two pieces of the same puzzle, building a life out of the shattered pieces of their pasts and holding them together with the love they share.

And Killian wants that. Whether he deserves it or not, he craves it. And, if he's being honest with himself, he knows he'll never be able to find it with anyone but Emma.

Killian glances to the little girl, her angelic face giving him a glowing smile and his heart thumps against his ribs. She doesn't see him as a villainous pirate – or a naval officer. To her, he's just 'Hook,' the man who works with her father and brings her presents. To her, he is honorable and good. To her, he is a hero who will protect her and save her from any foe.

"She's the Swan Princess, isn't she?" Grace asks suddenly, completely unaware of the underlying tension in the air.

The question amuses him; the candor she always displays making him smile. So he pushes the dark thoughts aside for later consideration and gives the little girl his full attention, asking, "What makes you think that, little one?"

"You're Killian Jones," she replies with a lift of her shoulder, "I heard you say so."

Killian raises his eyebrow at her simply stated comment even as Jefferson smiles in wonder at his daughter.

"And what do you know of Killian Jones and the Swan Princess?" Jefferson asks.

Grace rolls her eyes. "Everyone knows that Killian Jones is the Swan Princess's True Love. That's why the Evil Queen bragged about killing him."

Jefferson gives him an 'I-told-you-so' look that Killian ignores.

"Is that so?" Killian asks.

"Uh huh. So if you're Killian Jones, then she must be the Swan Princess, right?"

"You think you're so smart, don't you?" he comments.

"It just makes sense," Grace says with a shrug. Like father, like daughter. "The stories you told me… about the sailor and the princess. You were the sailor and she was the princess."

Killian considers that for a moment, casting a glance over his shoulder to Emma. Yes, that's who they were, and if they were still those people, there would be no question.

When he turns back, both Grace and Jefferson are looking at him expectantly.

Shaking his head in resignation, he tries to smile. "Yes, little love, she's the Swan Princess," he confirms.

"I thought so," Grace replies with satisfaction, then quickly adds, "but don't worry. I won't tell anyone. And I'll keep calling you 'Hook' so no one figures out it's you."

Killian chuckles at that. "Thank you, darling. We can't let anyone know where she is or who I really am."

Grace nods sagely in agreement, turning back to her father with an abrupt change in subject that only children seem to have the skill for. "Is it time for you to go?"

"Yes, angel. I need to go fetch your mother," Jefferson replies.

Grace surges forward to wrap her arms around his neck, her grip tight. "I want to go with you," she pleads.

"I'm sorry, darling," he replies, returning the embrace, "but you need to stay with Hook. There might be more of Regina's knights about."

"Then you shouldn't go alone," Grace says, leaning back to look into her father's eyes. "You should take Hook with you."

"I'd rather he keep you safe," Jeff replies.

"What about Emma? She has magic. She can keep me safe."

"Emma is new to her magic, little one," Killian explains. "It tires her out a bit and she's already used it twice today."

"She doesn't look tired to me," Grace argues stubbornly, prompting Killian to glance over to Emma again.

She doesn't look tired, he observes. What she looks is breathtaking, gathering up some flowers from around the boulder she'd been sitting on and forming a bouquet out of them. His brow wrinkles. Two bouts of magic and she doesn't look the least bit fatigued. She had, right after, but her strength seems to have returned much more quickly than in the past. Yet another thing he needs to think about later, he notes.

"Either way, her magic is tied to Hook. It may not work at all if he's not around."

Jefferson's statement has Killian swinging back to the pair so quickly that his neck cracks. He already knew it to be true, but hearing it stated so plainly strikes something in his chest.

Then, at Grace's next question, his chest constricts so much it's difficult to breathe. "Because they love each other?"

Jefferson smiles the slightest bit, but doesn't answer, his eyes leaving Grace to lock on Killian.

It takes him a second because he's concentrating on breathing normally, but when Grace turns to him as well, looking expectant, he stutters out the reply, "I don't know, darling. Magic is a funny thing. No one knows how it works."

Killian is thankful when Grace doesn't push further, accepting his explanation with nod of her head.

"I have to go, angel," Jefferson says, "I'll see you back at the Jolly Roger."

Killian can tell Grace is trying to think of some other protest, but she can't come up with one and she finally nods reluctantly in acquiescence.

Her father wraps her in a long, tight hug before handing her over to Killian and mounting the horse.

"If all goes well, we should make it to the Jolly around the same time you do," Jefferson says to Killian. "But remember: If I'm not there by nightfall…"

Jefferson trails off and Killian nods, not wanting to say they'll leave without him in front of Grace. But it seems the child is more perceptive than either of them give her credit for because she reaches out and puts her hand on her father's leg.

"You'll be fine, Papa," she says with confidence, "You're smarter than the Evil Queen's knights."

Jefferson smiles and chucks her under the chin. "Yes, I am. I'll see you soon, sweetheart." Then, he brushes her hair off her forehead. "I love you, Grace."

"I love you, too, Papa."

"Think about what I said, Killian." Jefferson adds with a final look to him. Then he straightens in the saddle and, blowing one last kiss to Grace, he spurs the horse and it takes off at a gallop.

Killian keeps watching as Jefferson makes his way down the path, Grace's head leaning down to rest on his shoulder.

"Be careful, Papa," he hears her whisper with a break in her voice when Jefferson disappears from view.

When the next thing he hears is her sniffle, he grips her tighter and sways her back a forth. "Don't worry, little love," he soothes, "Your father is very resourceful. And you said it yourself: He's smarter than Regina's knights."

Grace nods but turns in his arms to bury her face in his neck, the moisture from her tears warm against his skin. He holds her close for a few minutes, waiting until the tears subside. Then the brave little lass lifts her head and determinedly wipes the tears away, trying to give him a smile.

He smiles back and, in an attempt to distract her, asks, "Why don't you show me the baby rabbits before we leave?"

That makes her smile turn a little more genuine and she nods even as she pushes at his shoulders, prompting him to set her on her feet.

Taking his hand, she leads him across the clearing and, as she does, Emma's eyes meet his. She's smiling softly at him, her eyes shining with an emotion he can't place – but something about it makes his stomach flip, makes his heart jump in his chest.

Maybe… just maybe Jefferson is right.

He's so mesmerized by her, he doesn't notice the figure in the trees, grinning with satisfaction just before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

"There's news, Your Grace," Lancelot announces as he enters the room.

"From Arendelle?" David asks anxiously.

"Yes, a letter, and it's addressed to you personally," the knight replies, holding out the note.

David's brown wrinkles in confusion as he takes the parchment from Lance. "Addressed to me?"

With a quick glance to the seal, a snowflake, he rips it open and immediately looks to the signature. He's amazed to see the royal crest and the graceful curves of Princess Anna's writing.

"It's from Anna," David says in shock before he begins to read.

Dearest David,

You didn't think you'd be able to keep your survival a secret from us forever, did you? Honestly, we've known for quite some time.

We've also known that you sent Emma here to keep her safe. We understand why you didn't tell us – you didn't want to endanger our kingdom by asking for our help – but we've tried to look after her all the same.

And now, I'm sorry to say, we may have failed. Two days ago, a garrison of black knights showed up and ransacked the village she was hiding in. The reports are very confusing but from what we've gathered, she was surrounded at one point and no one knows what happened after that. What we do know is that the black knights didn't catch her. But the captain of the ship she was supposed to have passage on said she never showed up. So, I'm very sorry to say, we don't know for sure where she is.

I'm equally sorry to say that we've only been able to come up with one possibility – and I'm afraid you're not going to like it. But, before you get too upset, I want you to know that after the incident some people came forward and told us some very interesting stories which I'll get to in a minute.

The possibility we came up with… Now prepare yourself… Is Captain Hook. I know what you're thinking. He has a terrible reputation and the thought of Emma being abducted by a pirate is terrifying but please consider this before you get too upset: According to some people who'd been in the tavern when the knights set it on fire (don't worry - everyone made it out unharmed!) it was Captain Hook who released them. They say he braved the flames to unblock the door and set them free. And there was also a couple who said he killed two knights after they set fire to their shop. He even gave the couple a bag of gold as he ran away and didn't even wait for a 'thank you.'

Elsa and Kristoff say it's wishful thinking and that I'm naïve, but what if he's not so bad? What if he's, I don't know, a good pirate? Is there such a thing as a good pirate? I mean, he gave them money for no reason. He killed the knights and left these people with enough to build another shop – a better one, considering how much he gave them. And I don't know about Arthur's kingdom, but he's never attacked any of our ships. In fact, he'd never even set foot on our shores before this as far we know. Is it possible that he's not as bad as people say?

Again, Elsa and Kristoff don't think so, but you know me, I can't help but try to see the bright side. And since his is the only ship that escaped the harbor before the knights burned the docks, we don't see how else she could have gotten away unless it was with him.

Anyway, we caught all the surviving black knights and arrested them. Don't worry. Elsa is making sure they never get out. And we're keeping them separate from the other prisoners so that they can't tell anyone why they were here. No one will find out Emma is alive if we can help it.

Please know that we're thinking of you and that you can call upon us for help when you need it. We've known each other for a long time and if there's anything we can do, please don't hesitate to ask. The good news is that this has finally given us an excuse to stop trade with Regina. She won't be getting any supplies from us anymore. She and Elsa had a big row about it. And you should see the ice wall Elsa built. It's magnificent!

Oh! That reminds me. I nearly forgot the most important part! When our soldiers entered the village, there was one street where every single black knight was unconscious. And none of them remember how they got that way. Do you know what that means? Magic! And I think it was Emma! Maybe her magic is finally starting to develop! I don't know for sure, but it makes sense, doesn't it?

Don't lose hope, David. Those sword fighting lessons I gave you will pay off again soon. You'll get your kingdom back and you'll save Snow. I know it.

Elsa, Kristoff and Sven all say 'hello.'

Keeping you in our thoughts,

Anna

P.S. Olaf sends a warm hug.

David drops the letter to the round table and expels a long breath of relief, a chuckle escaping with the last bit of air.

Not only did Killian find her and help her escape, but she's gotten her magic.

Fisting a hand on the table, he closes his eyes and takes a moment to thank every deity he can name that she's safe. Then, laughing, he turns to Lancelot and claps the man in a tight hug.

"We're nearly there, my friend. Killian did it. He found her. He saved her. And she even got her magic. I knew it. Killian was the spark. He's her True Love, just as we always suspected. And now that we've made it past the betrayal business of the prophecy, nothing will stop us."

Picking up the letter, he hands it to Lance so that he can read the good news himself and walks over to the decanter to pour them a celebratory drink.

His daughter is coming. In as little as a week, he could be holding her in his arms again. He sighs as a picture of her flashes in his head, the one he always calls to mind when he thinks of her. It's his favorite memory. The day she'd brought that injured swan to the castle and insisted that Doc help mend the animal's wing, her dress caked with mud around the hem from where she'd waded into the lake to catch the bird.

But, for the first time in years, that memory isn't accompanied with sadness. It isn't bittersweet. It's just his beautiful little girl, standing in front of him with pleading eyes so much like her mother's that he couldn't deny her anything. They'd sought out Doc together, her cradling the animal like a baby in her arms, tracking that mud through the castle corridors.

Perhaps that was his favorite part, his little princess looking more like a farmer than royalty, her concern over the animal reminding him of the times he'd slept in the barn as a child when one of their sheep needed tending. She'd hand fed the bird every day, the cantankerous creature snapping at the fingers of anyone else who'd tried.

He'd thought she'd be sad when the bird healed and flew away, but her smile was absolutely radiant as she watched it go. She's going home to her family, papa. Why on earth would I be sad about that?

That was his daughter, so unselfish, so kind and giving… So much like her mother…

"If you consider how long a pigeon takes to fly here, this happened over a week ago," Lancelot's voice breaks into his thoughts. "She could be halfway here by now."

"Yes, she could," David responds, clearing his throat and passing one of the drinks to Lance.

They clink the glasses together in toast, both taking a long swallow.

"Never thought I'd be in league with a pirate," Lance comments with amusement.

"A pirate?" a voice calls from behind him. "What pirate?"

David spins around to the door. "Arthur," he exclaims, crossing the room to embrace his friend, "You're back! It's good to see you, Your Majesty. How goes your quest? Did you find the dagger?"

"Unfortunately, no. But I did find a new lead to follow up," the king responds, squeezing his shoulder, "Now, what's this about a pirate?"

"Emma is finally on her way here," David replies and, damn, he can't stop grinning.

"Aboard a pirate ship?" Arthur asks in disbelief.

"That's right," David says.

"Well, which one? I'll tell the navy to grant them safe passage."

"Thank you, but that's not necessary. I'm sure they'll make it without aide. And I don't want to draw attention to them but alerting the navy. Regina has ears everywhere."

"Of course," Arthur replies. "You're right. The less people who know, the better."

David nods in agreement.

"When should we expect her?"

"As early as a week," David replies. A week, just saying it makes his heart lift. After all these years, it's down to days.

"Well, then we should plan a ball to welcome her. I take it she hasn't been to one in quite some time," Arthur comments. "I'll talk to Guinevere and she'll make all the arrangements. Have either of you seen her? She wasn't in our chambers when I arrived."

David wants to tell his friend not to go to the trouble, that a ball isn't necessary. But Arthur loves having them and uses any excuse he can think of to put one on, so David keeps silent. And besides, David might actually enjoy this one. Because suddenly the idea of dancing with his daughter makes it seem like less of a burden.

"I saw her at the stable this morning," Lancelot replies to the king's question. "She may not be back from her ride yet."

"Ah," the king says, "Well, if you see her, please tell her I'm looking for her."

"Of course," Lancelot replies.

Arthur nods to the knight then turns to David. "Well, I'd better prepare for my next quest if we are to have everything we need when your daughter arrives."

And with that, he turns to go.

He's brooding and he knows it. He's standing at the helm, their course already set, but he can't make himself retreat to the crews' quarters. He needs more time with the sea around him, he needs more of the ocean air in his lungs. He needs time to consider everything that has happened and figure out his next steps.

The first step will be to get Jefferson and his family to safety, find a port not being threatened by Regina's knights and drop them off. There are still a few left where her knights don't have a stronghold, but most of those will take them well away from Camelot, hence delaying his priority mission. Jeff will resist, of course, but Killian knows he'll put his family first, especially after the emotional reunion of mother and daughter when they'd made it to the ship.

It had been late when they'd made it back, everyone dragging with fatigue, reminding Killian that they'd all been up for more than twenty-four hours. Thankfully, Jefferson and Patricia had already been waiting for them, Patricia racing for Grace the moment they were in view. She'd been so happy that she'd broken down into tears when she'd lifted the little girl into her arms, holding her tight for so long that Grace had broken the hug complaining of suffocation.

The reunion and Patricia's obvious joy had lifted everyone's spirits after the long walk, but the burst of energy had been short-lived in the wake of the exhaustion they were all feeling. Emma seemed to be suffering the worst from it, her head landing on his shoulder the moment they were all in the dinghy and her body turning heavy in his arms when she stopped fighting it and drifted off to sleep.

His princess was certainly a stubborn one. She'd stayed by his side all day even though he knew she could sense his contemplative mood. He'd tried to hide the troubling thoughts that were plaguing him during their trudge but she'd noticed immediately, her look of confused hurt prompting him to lean over and kiss her cheek in reassurance. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel uneasy or sad. This peace between them was a gift, and one that might not last if he tells her the truth, so he wants to relish it as long as possible. It hadn't fooled her, though, and she'd given him more than one questioning look throughout the day.

Grace's presence had served as a welcome distraction, her eagerness to see the 'magic ship' infectious. The little lass had kept them all entertained, chattering away nearly the entire time by making plans about what she wanted to do once aboard. She'd managed to obtain a promise from Dopey to take her up to the crow's nest tomorrow, a promise from Ruby to show her the galley and make honey cakes for breakfast, and a promise from himself that she'd be allowed to steer the ship.

He'd found it comical that she'd initially been nervous around Emma. He'd never known the energetic little girl to be shy around anyone, but Emma had won her over in the end by telling her about some of her father's more mischievous antics at court. Grace hadn't been aware of her father's social status in Misthaven, and the child had flushed nearly scarlet when Emma addressed her as Lady Grace.

Emma had sent him a triumphant smile at that, only to have the corners of her mouth turn down when she'd caught him lost in thought again. He'd squeezed her hand tighter in apology, but he could tell it wasn't enough to placate her, the look on her face making it clear that she'd want an explanation at one point.

She'd wanted to talk about it tonight. She'd tried to stay by his side when he'd sent everyone to bed. But tonight was not the night for any meaningful conversation. It was too late and they were too tired, so he'd told her they'd speak tomorrow, adding a lingering kiss to seal the promise.

So now, here he is, alone at the helm, the quiet lapping of water against the hull and the heavy weight of his muscles inviting his brain to wander at its leisure. He knows he should retire, let the Jolly alert them if danger approaches, but he can't turn his mind off.

He's always loved this type of night, the moon's soft light giving the deck a bluish glow, the waves sparkling around him like stars blinking in and out. It's soothing and peaceful… which is just what he needs at the moment.

He's not sure how much time passes as thoughts fade in and out, one running into another… the moment he met Emma, the moment he was separated from her, the string of tragedies that followed, the news of her death, their escape from that dungeon, taking the Jewel. That merchant ship… that moment he lost all hope and the vengeance it triggered, the despair that drug him into the depths of fury and hate. The moment he realized what he'd become and fighting his way out of it, the light that followed, the many times he resisted the temptation to slide back into that ruthlessness. And, finally, finding a place where he'd felt at least some peace, Jefferson's wedding, Grace's birth, the way it felt the first time he handed over spoils to Jeff, knowing that it would keep people fed, keep people alive, ease the burden for people all over the land including the people of Misthaven… Queen Snow and King David's people… Emma's people.

And lastly, finding her again, the kaleidoscope of emotions since seeing her in that square. Love, betrayal, anger, jealousy, hope, fear, guilt…

His eyes are just starting to drift closed, making him realize it's time to retire, when his body suddenly warms, his chest expanding with it, the comforting spark of Emma's magic spreading through his fatigued limbs.

He knows she's there before he turns around, but the sight that greets him nearly makes him gasp. She's already dressed for bed, her hair damp from apparent washing, the flow of it nearly reaching her waist. The scent of lilacs that accompanies her assaults his senses and the temptation to cross to her so that he can bury his nose in that fragrant hair is nearly impossible to resist.

"You should be resting, love," he says quietly when she takes a step toward him.

"So should you," she replies, stopping in her tracks.

They stare at each other for a moment, the stubborn set of her shoulders telling him she's not going to back down. Sighing in defeat, he turns away to look out over the wheel again.

She must realize she's won this particular battle of wills because she steps forward to stand at his side and crosses her arms over her chest.

"What are you thinking about up here?" she asks.

Keeping his eyes on the horizon, he replies, "I was just considering which port would be the safest to drop off Jefferson and his family."

It's not really a lie. He'd been thinking about that, too. But he still worries for a moment that her magic will distinguish the half-truth.

He can't tell for sure whether it does, her reaction a small nod accompanied by a non-committal grumble. But she doesn't press. She just turns back to the water, letting silence reign once again.

After a time, it seems she's not going to retire, and for some reason, he can't force himself to, either. So he accepts her presence and breathes deep of her scent, something about it calming even in the tense silence.

"Aren't you cold, love?" he finally asks, noticing the way her arms are wrapped tightly around her body.

Emma glances down to her nightdress and bare feet. "A bit," she replies with a shrug.

"It would be warmer below," he comments.

"You're up here," she retorts, turning to face him.

"I've got a full length coat, darling," he says.

He'd only meant it as a statement of fact, but she bristles at the words, her eyes darting to the coat itself for a moment. Then, as though she's made an important decision, she steps into his space, lifting a hand to his cheek and forcing him to look at her. Their eyes meet and hold, hers searching his like she's trying to read his mind.

Gods above, she looks beautiful, the white nightdress she's wearing shining in the moonlight. Her form backdropped by a sea of glittering stars, both on the water and in the sky. He wants to draw her into his arms and make the tension in her shoulders melt away, but he doesn't, instead meeting her eyes steadily while she studies him.

"What's wrong?" she asks softly.

He wants to tell her. He wants to confess everything right now. But it's late and they're both exhausted, and this is a conversation he doesn't want to rush. He wants to have it when they are both rested and alert so that he can take the time to explain everything thoroughly and coherently. And right now, he's afraid his confessions will just make the fatigue worse, so instead of answering, he leans forward and presses a kiss to her lips.

"Perhaps we should talk about this another time," he says, "It's been a very long day and we should both turn in. Besides, you're shivering, you should go warm up."

"Then let's go below," she replies stubbornly, already tugging on his arm to direct him toward his cabin.

"Princess – "

"Emma. My name is Emma," she snaps in sudden irritation. "You used to call me by my name. Why won't you do it now?"

Her outburst surprises him. He didn't think she'd noticed. But the hurt on her face tells him it's been weighing on her and he tries to think of something to say to make her understand. Something about calling her by name is too intimate. It's too familiar. And until he can be sure she won't push him away again, it's the one thing he has to guard himself.

Growing impatient at his silence, she huffs out a breath. "Fine," she says, "Call me whatever you like. But just… come below with me. Please? I just want to be with you. You don't even have to tell me what's bothering you. I just… I need you with me."

She's nearly begging by the end of her request, her eyes entreating him to give in. He swallows hard against the sudden lump in his throat, wanting more than anything to give her what she's asking for.

"Please," she entreats again.

As the softly spoken word settles in his chest, the reason she's fighting so hard becomes clear: She's telling him she doesn't want to go back, she doesn't want whatever's bothering him to come between them. He doesn't want it to either, but he's not sure how she'll feel after she's learned the truth, so he hesitates.

When her face falls, it wrenches his heart and it occurs to him that his hesitation might be hurting her as much as the truth could, so he lifts his hand and runs it through her hair, his forehead falling to rest on hers in the hope that she understands he's not retreating, he's not avoiding her, he's just terrified.

And, apparently she does understand, because her fingers lift to his cheek in a reassuring gesture, tracing the curve of his jaw with her thumb. Her other hand settles at the back of his neck, wading through the short hair and he very nearly shivers in response. It's so perfect, being in her arms. It always was. It's peace and joy and love and it fills his entire body with a rightness that nearly brings a tear to his eye.

Why is he even bothering resisting? It's what they both want. It's what they both need. And it's not like he could ever deny her anything, anyway. It doesn't matter what she asks of him, he'll do whatever it takes to make her happy. The power she has over him is too potent, too much to resist.

She must see it, the softening of his willpower, so she pushes her advantage, going up on her toes to rub her nose against his. The last of his defenses crumble, snaking his arm around her waist to steady her when she sways, and bringing his hand to her cheek as he nods his assent.

She doesn't look triumphant at her victory, she looks relieved, a tremulous smile gracing her lips as she lowers to her heels and takes his hand.

"Come on, Captain," she says softly. "Your cabin awaits."