The Promise

by Flslp87

Killian and Emma, two people longing for love. Come along on their journey of True Love, filled with romance, passion, and challenges as they fight for their Happy Beginning in The Promise.

24. Chapter 24

I really hope you enjoy this chapter but before you start, you might want to grab a tissue...or two.

Chapter 24

SeaTac Airport
Seattle, WA
Friday noonish

As soon as he was cleared to deplane, Killian grabbed his bag, and made his way through the terminal, hoping the car rental agencies in Seattle were much more efficient than in other cities. As he exited the secure area, his attention was caught by a lone man holding a sign, KILLIAN JONES written on it in block lettering. Before he even introduced himself, he knew who had sent him.

"I'm Killian Jones." He nodded at the sign, "Let me guess, my brother sent you."

The man smiled and shook his hand. "Eric Prince, and yes, Liam thought it might be easier to be driven when you aren't familiar with the area."

"Appreciate it." He held up his small bag. "Just this, so I'm ready."

Killian followed Eric out to his car and when he saw the congestion around the airport he was even more relieved that he didn't have to focus on the traffic. Unable to resist, he pulled out his phone:

K: You just couldn't help yourself, could you?

He didn't have to wait long before his brother answered,

L: Sorry?

Killian just shook his head, almost fondly, he thought as trying to make things easier for him was SO Liam.

K: I appreciate it this time, Liam. I really do. How's Henry?

L: Henry is a spitfire who pushed Elsa's patience to the limit but his response to the news was something I'll never forget. We'll talk when you get home.

And I hope I'm home soon with my swan, floated through his mind.

K: I'd like that. How do you know Eric?

L: Doctor Blanchard. You might find his story interesting. Keep me posted little brother.

K: That's younger brother and alright.

He clicked off and pocketed his phone, thinking about Liam's comment. What could Eric Prince have to say that I might need to know? That it might be something about Emma's doctor flashed through his mind as he watched the scenery flash by. The fact that Liam felt Emma's doctor, Mary Margaret Blanchard, was the perfect person to help her was something he wished to know more about. What was the basis of those feelings and when he met her, would he agree?

According to Liam, Seattle-Grace had been recommended based on the reputation of the surgeon Emma needed to repair her face, as just after the accident her memory had been fine. And while, as far as he knew, she had not suffered any type of head injury, here it was three months later and she didn't remember her life. Or him. Or Henry. He needed to know why.

As the SUV moved out of the heavy airport congestion, Killian glanced sideways at Eric. He looked relaxed, content to drive in silence, but if he had a story about the doctor, Killian wanted to hear it. "Thanks again for picking me up. I wasn't looking forward to having to navigate the traffic."

"No problem. I was happy to help," Eric answered but didn't elaborate.

So," Killian tried to think of an innocuous topic that wouldn't take too much attention away from the road, "how do you know my brother, Liam?"

"Oh, I don't really." Eric gave him a half smile. "I just helped Doctor Blanchard out yesterday and well..." he shrugged his shoulder.

His ears perked up at the mention of the doctor and hoping to learn more about her, he waded into the minefield. "That was nice of you but...can I ask how you know Doctor Blanchard?"

Eric gave him a somber smile. "She saved my life."

Killian's gasp shattered the silence, as that hadn't been the answer he expected. "Whoa man, sorry to hear that. I'll understand if you don't wish to talk about it."

"Oh no, it's okay," Eric tossed him a small smile, "it's actually kind of nice to talk about, as it helps me realize how far I've come."

Killian was intrigued as the man next to him looked...and sounded perfectly normal. "Really? How?" he blurted out rapidly, then realizing how rude he might have sounded, reiterated again, "That is...if you wouldn't mind sharing."

Eric didn't say anything for a few seconds and then when he started talking, Killian finally understood exactly what Liam had meant. "About six months ago, I was out on the boat - I'm a fisherman," he clarified, "when an unexpected storm popped up. The waves were choppy and while I still don't remember it all, I was told I lost my balance, hit my head and fell overboard...unconscious."

Killian winced as Eric continued, "I was rescued and taken to Seattle Grace Hospital and when I woke up," he glanced sideways and grimaced, "I didn't remember anything."

"Nothing?" Since learning that Emma had amnesia, Killian had marveled over the possibility that someone could just wake up one day and not remember whom they were. He and Emma loved each other. In fact, their love was so powerful that he had dreamed of her and she had been...there...in his arms. How could she forget them? Or him?

"Not my name, my life or," Killian saw him bend his left hand to lightly touch his wedding ring, "my wife."

"But..." Killian asked, perplexed, "you're saying that when your wife was standing next to you, you couldn't remember her? Or...your life together? Ever since Liam told him that Emma had amnesia, he'd had this rose-colored glasses idea that one look at him and Emma would immediately get her memory back. "You finally recovered?"

"I did," Eric agreed, "but it was a long road."

"So...you're saying that even with your wife in the same room as you...you didn't know her? Killian couldn't help feeling a little responsible for the situation they found themselves in, and that not being by her side might have played some part in what had happened to her.

"My wife, Ariel," he hesitated as he merged onto the interstate, "tried to be supportive, but...she couldn't understand how I could have forgotten her, or our life together."

"Really?" Killian didn't think that made any sense, as having your family, especially the woman you loved and who loved you, close to help you remember would be important.

"It's hard to explain," Eric began, "but as the person who didn't remember, when I was with my family, especially with my wife, I felt so guilty that...I pushed her away." He shrugged. "Doctor Blanchard has been instrumental in helping me put my life back together."

Was this the reason that Liam wanted him to hear Eric's story? To understand that his reunion with Emma might not be as easy as he had imagined? That because not a day had gone by since last May that he...hadn't thought about her, didn't mean that she would know...him. If that happened, how would he feel?

"You pushed your wife...away?" Killian asked, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Emma might not want him close.

Eric rubbed the back of his neck as if talking about the way he treated his wife made him uncomfortable, "Ariel and I...it was always easy between us and then suddenly...she wanted her Eric and I..." Killian watched him smile and take a deeper breath, as if this part of the memory was difficult, "I didn't know who that Eric was. I would look at her and see the pain on her face that she was trying to hide and seeing that...was more difficult than not being with her."

"So, what did you do?" Killian asked the question even though he had a pretty good idea of what Eric was going to say.

"I moved out and into Anita's Place for a few months. Doctor Blanchard helped both of us in more ways than I could ever express. But the time apart, with me there and Ariel in our home, gave us time to solve the problem inside of us and then...we were able to recover us."

As he navigated a particularly busy stretch of the highway, Killian thought about what he had said. Did he understand that reasoning? Yes. Did he understand the behavior? Frustratingly enough, he had to say yes, he did...for in his own way, he had done the same thing. He had been so broken when he thought she was gone that he hadn't wanted to be around those that loved her...as he thought they would expect him to act a certain way; feel a certain way, even, and so he had taken Henry and they had gone to a place...alone...where they could pretend.

"But your memory is back and everything has returned to normal?" Killian hoped so for both of their sakes.

Eric smiled. "I did get my memory back except for those few moments around the accident and I am happy to say everything worked out with Ariel." He laughed as if thinking of a private joke. "I tease her that I was rescued by a red-headed mermaid, and she jokes that you never know what's out there in the water...but I've learned not to take her or our relationship for granted. Doctor Blanchard and her group sessions helped."

"I'm happy for you," Killian told him quietly as Eric exited the Interstate toward Seattle-Grace. "And thank you for sharing your story."

"No problem. Doctor Blanchard is treating someone close to you, isn't she?"

"She's treating my fiancé," Killian told him, "but how did you know that?"

He shrugged, sending a half smile Killian's direction. "I'm no mind reader, if that's what you're thinking. It was just something your brother said yesterday. He was obviously distraught when I took him to the airport and he told me and asked me about Doctor Blanchard."

"And you told him your story?"

"Yes," Eric nodded, "and asked him about his."

Killian wondered how much of the real story Liam had shared but decided this wasn't the time to rehash, and instead asked more about Doctor Blanchard. "It sounds as if you admire Doctor Blanchard a great deal."

"Oh, you'll not find anyone more experienced in dealing with amnesiacs, or...more caring. She has credentials longer than your arm and has written dozens of well-respected articles, yet she's very hands-on, wanting the very best for all of her patients. What did you say your fiancé's name was?"

Killian looked at the large hospital as Eric rolled to a stop in front of the building. "Her name is Emma. Emma Swan."

"Hmm, no, that name doesn't sound familiar," Eric said as Killian opened the car door. "I thought perhaps she was in my group but there's no women named Emma, just a Meg, Eve, Ginger and the new girl...Kate."

Killian pulled his bag out of the back seat. "Thanks again, Eric. You helped me in more ways than you know."

"I'm glad." He handed Killian a piece of paper with his phone number on it. "Give me a call if you need anything while you're here. Good luck to you and Emma."

As he drove off, Killian couldn't help but send another silent thanks Liam's direction. Somehow Liam had known what he needed to hear when he hadn't even known it himself. And now that he had met someone treated successfully by Emma's Doctor Blanchard, he just hoped she lived up to her reputation, for the idea of not getting Emma back was...unacceptable.

~~~CS~~~

Once he had located the wing that housed the offices of Emma's doctors, Killian could feel Emma's presence. He would have been hard-pressed to explain what he was feeling, but there had always been that invisible connection between them, and he could feel it surrounding him...pulling at him. But this time it was different, as this time the force was leading him into the fight...and not away from it.

But since talking to Liam, his emotions had been all over the place. Anger, pain, guilt, sadness, happiness, and the list continued and now...after talking to Eric, he could add fear to the list. He had to wonder if Emma would feel pressure with him here. Would she feel that his presence was hindering her recovery instead of helping it? Another question was Doctor Blanchard and what she would think of his showing up in Seattle. Would she agree with his being here...or...would she request he leave?

When he had nowhere else to go but through the double doors directly in front of him, Killian reached for the handle...and stopped when he saw his hand was shaking. Grasping it tightly, he closed his eyes, imagining his reunion with Emma, and as a peace washed over him, he pulled the door open...and as if his feet were glued to the floor, he couldn't move. He wasn't sure how long he stood there before he realized that the room was vacant - no receptionist or secretary, and the one visible desk was empty and the computer shut down, as if they had started their weekend early.

Another door, on the far side of the room, was partially open, and the soft music emanating from it told him the doctor was inside. Ten steps, give or take a few, and he was finally going to be close to the woman who had been treating Emma for months, but with that thought...the fear returned. "I'm bloody terrified," he sighed dropping down onto a chair as his bag landed on the floor with a thunk.

Seattle Airport
Seattle, WA
Friday, Early Afternoon

After Ariel left her at the airport, Emma walked inside, and the crush of the people, the noise from the sound system and the enormity of the choices she had served to send her to the lady's room to hide. Realizing that there were no comfortable chairs to rest on in this retreat, she had eventually made her way out into the atrium, found a seat and watched the airplanes land and take off. Eventually as her nerves had settled and the people faded away, the noise over the sound system became just a buzz and she moved to another seat where she could sit and formulate a plan.

"Perhaps I should have asked Ariel for help," she sighed, pulling out pen and paper to write the flight numbers and times. She just hoped the credit card August gave her actually worked.

Offices of Doctor Blanchard
Seattle-Grace Hospital
Seattle, WA
Friday, Early Afternoon

It had been several hours since Emma had departed from their session, but something about the way the session had ended just felt...off. Mary Margaret wanted to forget the dreaded paperwork and go check on her patient, but that might be pushing past the patient/doctor relationship and straight into a mother/daughter one. And if that were the case, something told her that Emma Swan, the real Emma Swan, was not only confident but independent as well, and might not appreciate the interference.

"Emma can wait, paperwork can't," she muttered to herself as she pulled out yet another chart. Hating paperwork was one thing, neglecting it was completely another. "And if you did the paperwork as you saw the patients, you wouldn't have to spend Friday afternoons catching up," she scolded herself, probably for the millionth time in her career, but why listen this time when she had never listened before? At least Fridays were half days, which meant she wasn't having to cancel anything important.

She had just gotten into the zone when she heard the outer waiting room door open and wondered if Donna had forgotten something and was returning for it. However, after several minutes had passed and there was no 'hey it's just me' greeting, her curiosity got the better of her. She closed the file and pushed her ungainly body out of the chair just as her Fitbit buzzed, signaling an incoming call. A quick glance at her wrist told her it was Ariel, but when her curiosity over her mystery visitor won out, she let the phone go straight to voicemail.

Mary Margaret was halfway to the door when she heard a thunk from the outer room, and hurried, as much as a woman eight-months pregnant could, to see what awaited her. The scene that greeted her tugged at her heartstrings, immediately causing her eyes to water, as she knew that it meant the time would soon arrive when she would be setting one of her patients free, something that was always bittersweet. After Liam left, she had expected the brother would show up, however she had expected to see a man who was bursting with eagerness and fight to get back to Emma, not this broken man who was looking so alone. Perhaps, just as she had been able to help Liam understand some of the missteps that had occurred, she could also help Killian. Lucky for him, she was more than ready to help this family reunite

He didn't immediately see her, giving her the opportunity to study him unobtrusively, and even though she could only see his profile, his body language told her everything she needed to know. He was sitting, bent over with his elbows on his knees and his head bowed, giving the impression of a man who had lost everything. And while Mary Margaret wanted to give him the words that he was hungering for, Emma was her priority and...she needed to make sure seeing him would be in her patient's best interest. Too much pressure to remember could send Emma running...again.

Stepping into the waiting room, she quietly cleared her throat. "You must be Killian Jones," was said softly, as she didn't want to startle him. When he lifted his head and looked at her, she couldn't help but smile. She would have recognized those eyes anywhere. The expression in them quickly sobered her as the turmoil he was feeling was alive and running riot behind them.

She saw fear, a feeling not uncommon in the families of her patients, but she could see so many other emotions too. Sadness, guilt, worry, love, hope, and even anger - all healthy and to be expected in a situation such as the one that this family was experiencing. But, just like she had with Emma and then again with Liam, her plan was to help him understand his feelings as well as Emma's. That he and Emma should be on the same path was imperative to the future of their journey. That they would get there was not the question...the question was how they would get there.

"Aye, I'm Killian Jones." He slowly pushed himself out of the chair, moving closer to where she was standing.

His voice was a mixture of both hope and sadness, causing her heart to hurt, but after meeting his brother, not totally unexpected. "Let's talk." She inclined her head toward her office door and waited for him to precede her into her private space. "Have a seat," she indicated a chair as she lowered her heavy girth onto the sofa. He didn't sit but prowled the edges of the room, almost as if he were trying to learn more about her, but just as she had with Liam, she allowed him his space. He could only be helped if he was ready.

She watched as he prowled the room spending extra time looking at the picture of her and David on vacation at the beach, gently touching her seashell collection before moving to her credential wall and studying her degrees and awards, almost as if he wanted to assure himself that she was qualified to do the job she had been doing for years. That too wasn't unexpected but the smile that crossed his face when he fingered the pink yarn hanging from her crochet basket was tender and surprising. "I had hoped to make a blanket for the baby…but…" she shrugged her shoulder, rubbing her hand over her stomach.

"Run out of time?" he asked as he took a step closer to where she was standing.

She smiled, wrinkling her nose. "Lack of talent."

He didn't say anything right way, just nodded and tipped his chin in acknowledgment. "Your office is very…warm," he told her softly.

"Thank you," Mary Margaret answered just as softly, maintaining eye contact with him, hoping that he would see just how much she wished to help.

Finally, taking that last step in her direction, he gazed at her solemnly, "Did I cause this?" his voice breaking on the last word.

While she didn't know Killian's side of the story, she felt secure enough to alleviate some of his fears. "Did you cause her amnesia?" He gave a quick bob of his head, to which she answered, "I can say with fairly good confidence that it wasn't you who caused this."

His brows drew together in a frown as he processed what she said. "Does Emma have a head injury that I need to know about?"

"No," she shook her head, "Emma has no neurological reasons behind her amnesia."

When he heard that, he felt his body slightly relax but if there was no medical reason for her amnesia, he was still brought back to the why. "Why does something like this occur?"

A shrug of a shoulder before she answered, "Fear of something. The what is where the answer lies. But," she hesitated long enough to make sure that he understood that what she was about to say was very important, "you can't tell her what that is or...fix it for her. She has to do that on her own."

~~~CS~~~

Killian gave an agitated snort and ran his fingers through his hair. "What could she be afraid of?" He left his spot by the window and sat down in an over-sized chair. "We had it all," he whispered, "and then I pressured her to go away with me. If I hadn't done that..." He wasn't sure he would ever feel that his decision to go to Atlantic City wasn't that first brick in the ripple.

"Killian," Mary Margaret's soft voice broke through his self-recrimination, "for you all to be able to complete the journey of life...you have to forgive yourselves, and fight for what you want...together. But, you also must be on the same path and moving in the same direction.

Kilian studied the doctor as she talked about being on the same path as Emma and moving in the same direction, and fighting together. But wasn't that what he had done when he spent a year searching for her? And fighting wasn't something he wanted to do with her; her heart's desire was all he wanted to give her. "I fought for her, Doctor Blanchard, for a year I searched and then once I found her things were perfect. She was perfect. Isn't that how a man is supposed to treat the woman he loves?"

As he was talking, Mary Margaret could hear the pain in his voice and see the love in his eyes, and knew he would do anything for Emma Swan. But her experience professionally gave her the insight to see that the 'perfect' relationship he had described, it wouldn't have been so perfect while Emma was healing, and was possibly one of her fears. "I think," she said softly, "that a lasting relationship is built on equal ground and, yes, it's wonderful for a man to shower a woman with love, but it's also important to understand that love is not perfect. Life and love are not all rainbows and unicorns. They are full of highs and lows, and how you respond during the low times is what makes that relationship stronger. That goes to any relationship, whether it's as lovers or friends or brothers," she said pointedly, knowing he would understand that analogy.

And he knew all about his experiences during conflict, as his self-reflections on the plane had spelled those out vividly for him. "My running days are over," Killian told her earnestly. If I could just see her and tell her that..." His voice trailed off.

"This isn't like in a fairytale. It's not something that can be fixed with True Love's Kiss," Mary Margaret responded, almost a bit too sharply, but her patient was her primary concern and what Emma's reaction would be wasn't quite clear.

When she flippantly responded about it not being a fairytale, Killian felt his anger rise. "I bloody well know it's no fairytale," he spat out. Pushing himself out of the chair, he went back to prowling around the room. "But shouldn't I have a say in this?" His agitation propelled him forward several steps before he turned back in her direction. "I love her," he jammed his thumb in his chest, "I miss her. Doesn't that count for something?"

His burst of anger wasn't anything that she hadn't expected, and knowing it would play itself out, she waited. Once it did, she gave him the only answer she could, "No, not this time. This time it all depends on Emma."

Killian closed his eyes, hating the fact that she was right and that if this was how he behaved when he saw her for the first time, he would be putting too much pressure on her, and then what? He didn't think he could handle it if she ran away from him again. Feeling he had more control on his emotions, he opened his eyes. "I get it," he told her quietly, taking a seat once again. "How can I help get my Emma back?"

Mary Margaret had watched the play of emotions cross his face, seeing when the anger transferred to fear and finally understanding. She also didn't think she had seen the last of his anger yet because once he knew about Sister Blue, she expected it to show up again.

SeaTac Airport
Seattle, WA
Friday, Early Afternoon

The crush of all the people around her threatened to make her run out of the airport screaming, but with deep breathing exercises she regained her strength and managed to make it to the front of the line. When it was time to give her documents to the officer, her hand was shaking so badly she worried he would ask her something she didn't know. Thankfully, there were no hold-ups and as soon as her ticket was checked, she was sent to the next station.

She put the backpack she had haphazardly packed into one of the bins, her jacket and boots into another and slid them onto the belt to be x-rayed. As they were going through the machine, she walked through the metal detector, only to panic when she came out and saw the security officer holding up her backpack.

"Officer Herman, ma'am," he said as she slowly took her boots out of the bin. "Is this your bag?"

Emma's insides were going ninety-miles-per-hour, and she was sure she had that deer in headlights look when she answered, "Ye..." She cleared her throat, "Yes, officer."

"I need to look inside..."

"Oooookay," she agreed, wondering what he could have seen that he needed to inspect up close.

She watched as he stretched the top wide, peered inside for a few minutes and then held it open for her to see. "Please remove those two items," he pointed at the lids of her shampoo and conditioner bottles.

Emma said a silent prayer of thanks that she had stuck those in there at the last minute and that he wasn't after something at the very bottom. She would have been mortified to have her silky underwear spread across the security table, she thought as she handed them to him.

He took the bottles and set them off to the side. "They're too big for the plane," he told her as he handed her backpack to her and moved off to deal with someone else.

Emma gazed longingly at the bottles with her favorite shampoo and conditioner in them, but since there was nothing she could do, she closed her bag and sat down to put on her boots. Once those were on, she tossed her jacket over her shoulder, grabbed her pack and went in search of her gate.

Office of Doctor Mary Margaret Blanchard
Seattle-Grace Hospital
Seattle, WA
Friday, Afternoon

As Killian shared his story of what had transpired between him and Liam last May, he could see that his first mistake had been shredding the file that Liam had so callously tossed onto the table. Had he confronted Liam then, standing up for what he wanted and needed, things might have been different. The first block in the chain reaction of events could have all been nullified with a simple conversation.

But...he hadn't, and here he was in the office of Emma's doctor hearing about her first days with his love. How immediately upon arriving she had been whisked into surgery, waking only to ask who was Emma Swan, her only means of communication a whiteboard. When he had listened to Liam's explanation of her injuries, every word spoken had hit him like a knife to the heart, but this time was worse. This time she had been on the other side of the country, alone...and lost.

As Mary Margaret continued her story of the first few days with Emma here, she kept wanting to skip over the worst parts, but Emma's Killian wouldn't allow it. Every time she got to a part in the story about a new surgery or Emma's pain, he physically winced as if he were currently experiencing exactly what she had felt.

"I should have been with her," she heard him lament, not the first time since she had started her dissertation.

"Oh, but Killian," she pushed up, going to retrieve her large portfolio of drawings and pictures Emma had shared with her, "you were there. There's obviously a powerful, almost mystical connection between you two because you were always there." On the table in front of him she spread out drawings with depictions of the eyes watching over her.

Killian watched her lay out the drawings, each showing a scene and then his eyes there, as if he were watching it all happen. "I dreamed of her, too, you know?" He turned water-filled eyes up. "Every night I dreamed of her. Some of those dreams were..."

"Graphic?" Mary Margaret's brow went up with her question. When his cheeks tinted pink, she lightly laughed. "Oh, you're not the only one," she pulled out one of the cleaner pictures of them from their encounter earlier in the week, "Emma was there too."

Killian stared down at the drawing of himself and Emma locked in a heated embrace, her arms around him, nails scouring his back with every movement of their bodies. While there was no bloody way he was going to tell the lady doctor that he had woken that morning with scratch marks on his back, he knew they were there. "Why didn't you contact me?" His frustration had returned and this time, it was directed at her as well as at himself.

"Many reasons," she explained, "but initially all we had were the papers she signed agreeing to come here. With all the privacy rules, we were given her consent and that was it. But then after I got a call from Sister Blue..."

Killian didn't understand all the privacy speech, but she was a doctor and he assumed he wouldn't get her to admit anything anyway, but then… "Wait," he barked, "you spoke to Blue? When…and I'll ask again, why wasn't I contacted?"

And there was the anger she expected over this very situation as she told him a little about Sister Blue tracking down the accident, the hospital and eventually her. "It was my choice, as Emma's doctor, to convince the Sister to wait until the end of this month."

"And what were the specific reasons behind the wait?" His irritation caused his speech pattern to be very clipped, a staccato rhythm to it.

Very simply she said, "You, Henry and Emma. You're an adult and you've felt fear at the possibility that Emma might push you away, but imagine what Henry would feel. Would Emma not knowing who he was leave him unaffected?"

And just like that his anger evaporated, as the answer was no. If Emma pushed Henry away, he would be devastated, plain and simple. "So, where do we go from here?" He didn't like it, but he agreed that the doctor seemed to have Emma's best interests at heart.

"I saw her this morning and it seems," she rifled through the artwork looking for the newest additions, "she's had some more memories. She arrived more confident than I'd ever seen her before, and drew these."

Killian took the pictures she handed him, and the first glance brought tears to his eyes. "She remembered," he breathed. "Did she say anything?" he asked her, unable to take his eyes from the drawings.

"Not really," Mary Margaret answered. "No matter what we tried, she couldn't connect them. Obviously, you recognize them."

"Aye." Killian carried that vision of what had transpired on that cliff in his mind...still. "I proposed to her on that cliff, and then she took this beaded necklace I gave her and we buried it under a rock and made a promise."

Should she take him to Anita's Place without warning Emma? She had to admit she was torn, as her last few sessions with Emma had given her a different picture of the woman that she had known for three months. The woman she saw this morning had been strong enough to handle seeing her fiancé, and she felt that Killian also understood the importance of guarding his need to push the memories, and then his quiet plea interrupted her thoughts, but gave her the answer she had been looking for.

"Please, Doctor Blanchard," Killian swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing, "I just need to see her...to see with my own eyes that she's truly...alive." Her subtle nod warmed his heart, and with much lighter feet, he took his bag and followed her out the door.

SeaTac Airport
Seattle, WA
Friday Afternoon

Sitting at the gate waiting to board, Emma found herself feeling guilty about how things had been left with Doctor Blanchard. The doctor had done so many wonderful things for her over the past few months that she wasn't sure how to say thank you, but at this very moment, what were her choices? Remain passive in her therapy and let it come - 'when it was time' - according to her doctor, or take a more active role and follow the clues?

She remembered waking up in the hospital and seeing Doctor Nolan and writing the question, 'Who is Emma Swan,' and since that moment, support from him and his staff had been there when she needed it. They never put pressure on her to be someone she didn't know, but encouraged her to follow her heart and mind, wherever they led. Some days had been lonely, some quiet, but the longer she had been in the hospital and looked in the mirror, the more disconnected she had felt...until that night when she had dreamed about Kate.

"Hello. What is your name?" a disembodied voice called quietly to her right.

She turned quickly to ask them whom they were talking to before they faded from sight, just like the other scenes she had pictured, and then lost just as quickly. But before she could give voice to her question, from her left another voice filled the air, " My name is Kate."

And then upon waking she had drawn the picture declaring her name as Kate Blue. But where had the nameBluecomefrom?She had assumed it had to do with the color of the eyes that were always there, but somehow that didn't feel right. Did she know someone whose name was Blue? On her drawing, she had labeled one girl Red. Perhaps there was another child whose name was Blue?

It hadn't been too long before Doctor Blanchard had shown up with the picture she had drawn. Her face had still been bruised, her jaw wired shut and her right arm in the cast, and yet Doctor Blanchard brought with her no judgment. No criticism. No anger. She brought only support. Only a willingness to help. Acceptance.

Emma looked up from the magazine she had been slowly flipping through to see Doctor Blanchard stroll into the room, a smile on her face, her arms full of books. "Good morning, Emma." She had laid the drawing with the new name on the bed. "You still can't remember being Emma Swan?"

Shaking her head no, Emma picked up her sketchpad. "No, not yet."

"Did you remember being called Kate Blue?"

Emma had shrugged, then nodded her head and written, "Not sure. But safe."

"Kate Blue makes you feel safe?" she had asked Emma curiously.

Nodding her head, Emma just agreed, but didn't offer any further information.

"I want you to feel safe and if Kate Blue is the name that gives you those feelings then we'll go with that for now, okay?"

And as easy as that, she had temporally become Kate Blue and Doctor Blanchard had been the one to help ease the transition. She had even helped her discover a side of herself that she was unfamiliar with; a side that liked photography.

Emma watched the doctor pull out a small camera. "I know this isn't much, but," she handed the camera to her, "I want to explore your artistic nature, but since your arm is in a cast I thought this might be easier. It's simple, just point and shoot."

And just like that she had started taking pictures of everything and anything she could find. It had been a time of exploration and new discoveries that had brought her some happiness until her cast could be removed. Once there was no cast, though, there had been no reason for her to stick exclusively with photography. Her hand had itched for a pencil or a piece of charcoal, and her craft as Emma Swan had slowly returned.

Once that happened and the memories and dreams had become more vivid, it had been time to ask the really hard questions.

Who am I?" she asked the face silently.

"Your name is Emma Swan," the doctor with the kind blue eyes told her.

But did she believe him?

"Are you sure?" she asked again, the pain and frustration evident even inside her own head.

"Yes. Trust us." This time she could hear another voice added to his. Mary Margaret, the woman with the kind eyes and the gentle voice had joined them. "It will come, Emma. We will work on it together."

Together? Why did that sound so familiar?

"We will do it together, Swan. Just like everything else."

And who was it that said those words to her? Had they been the mystery man that Doctor Blanchard had mentioned?

"...but do you think there's a man out there that loves me?"

"I would bet on it."

"But...if that's true then where is he?"

"Perhaps he's on his own journey and working his way back to you, just..."

"...as I'm working my way back to him," Emma finished.

Emma looked around her as men and women of all sizes, shapes and colors hurried to their destinations. Was the man who loved her close or was he in Boston waiting for her return? Was he her dream lover?

"You're here," she jumped into his arms as if she had no doubt that he would always be there to catch her. "You're really here."

"I've missed you, love. So much."

And then he kissed her and even though it had been five days, she could still feel the imprint of his lips. She could still taste him. And if she closed her eyes, she could even smell him. And she had changed, gotten stronger, more curious.

"I remember feeling only fear when I first came here, when I heard the name, Emma Swan. Now...I only feel anticipation, thanks to you."

And started to try to unravel the reason as to why she had lost her memory in the first place.

"We've talked about why you couldn't remember your life, right?" the doctor asked her quietly.

Emma nodded her head. "That there wasn't a physical reason? Yes."

"And...?" she was prodded by the good doctor.

Emma rolled her eyes and grinned. "Fear," she wrinkled her nose, "but what could have been so scary that I ran?"

"Oh, Emma," Mary Margaret smiled, "there are all types of fear besides just the obvious ones. We are the people we are because of where we come from and the things we've experienced."

Emma thought about what she said for a few seconds. "So…possibly something from my past was the reason behind my fear?"

"Perhaps." Mary Margaret laughed when Emma rolled her eyes again at her cryptic answer. "It could be as simple as fear of happiness because you don't think you deserve to be happy, or something as complex as fear of worrying you'll screw things up. We're all different but I think deep down we all want the same things, like happiness and love, but I also believe we're all worried we'll screw it up.

There are no physical reasons why you can't remember."

Fear? But if there was someone who loved her, why hadn't they worked together? Had they each run because of fear, but for different reasons? Was there adversity or conflict that they couldn't handle? Or was it that they didn't even try to handle it, but chose to run instead?

When she woke up this morning after spending the night without her dream lover, she had felt sad, but stronger with the person she was. Doctor Blanchard said she looked more confident, which would explain why she was considering getting on a plane, alone...to fly to Boston...for what? Over the loud speaker she heard,

"Flight 815 to Boston will begin boarding shortly."

Was she ready? Should she get on that airplane when it was her turn or should she go back to Anita's Place?

I promise you that I will never forget these beads and our promise to each other and what they stand for.

And as if she were watching it happen on a video, she saw the beads being dropped into a shallow hole and the rock pushed back into place. Emma grabbed the drawing of the blue beaded necklace and ran her finger around each bead, imagining how they felt...smooth glass or were they stone? Around and over each bead her finger flew trying to grasp the memory as it tickled the edges of her mind.

And then suddenly, as if a Polaroid photo was developing before her eyes, it was there. Dropping the picture of the beads, she flipped through her sketchbook for a clean page and drew an image, an image that had to be important to the discovery of her identity as Emma Swan.

The cliff scene had been familiar and she remembered where it was, but was it worth the search? Fort Williams Park was a ninety-mile park. Could she truly find the same rock without any other memories? And even if she found it, would it make a difference? Would she be any closer to remembering her life?

Emma reached into the pocket where she had stowed the picture, thinking perhaps if she looked at it again, another memory...or two, would occur. When her hand encountered nothing but air, her pulse sped up and the memory of what happened caused her to second guess her decision to go to Boston.

Rushing down the outside steps of Anita's Place, Emma slung the strap of the backpack over her right shoulder, just as she had done hundreds of times. What she had failed to take into consideration was that this time the backpack was heavier, and as she swung it up it caught on something sharp. Unwilling to make her ride wait too long, she had tugged it loose and continued on down the steps.

"And even though I didn't see it happen, apparently my drawing fell out during my run," she murmured quietly just as they started the pre-boarding announcement. Was that a sign that I shouldn't go? She wondered. And if she did go, was going to Boston running from...or was it running to?

Anita's Place
Seattle, WA
Friday Afternoon

When Doctor Blanchard drove up in front of the place where Emma was staying, Killian was surprised. "Eric told me about this place, but," he frowned, "he said he didn't know Emma."

"He knows her," Mary Margaret stopped the car and opened her door, "he just doesn't know her as Emma."

She got out of the car before he could ask for any clarification, but he was much quicker than she and met her at rear of the car. "Meaning?"

"There was a time," she began as they started walking toward the house, "when she needed to feel safe and wanted to be called Kate Blue. I believe she had a doll named Kate when she was a child, and so here, at Anita's Place, most of the people know her as Kate. Only the caretaker, Mrs. Lucas knows her real name."

"And now?" he asked softly, as he followed her in the door.

"And now," she started up the steps, "she answers to either." They went up four or five more steps before she stopped and looked down at him. "Don't overthink it. She answers to either name these days and in our sessions, she's Emma. She is working her way back to you." With a gentle squeeze of his shoulder, she continued on up.

Killian didn't say anything else until they reached the landing, outside of the rooms. "Do you think she remembers who I am?"

She tilted her head sideways, as if she wasn't sure what to say, but then with a smile, nodded her head. "She doesn't remember your name. In fact, she thinks of you as Captain Hook, but she remembers the feelings that come from you.

Killian was immediately brought back to the very real dream, when she had called him Captain. Had she not known who he was?

Doctor Blanchard stopped in front of a door. "I need to check on her alone first." She knocked several times, but when there was no answer she tried the knob, surprised when it turned easily, and slipped inside the room.

Killian heard her walking around, calling Emma's name, but there was no response from his swan's sweet voice. After the opening and closing of several doors, the footsteps grew louder, and then, "Oh, no! Killian, come quick."

He had already pushed the door open before the 'no' was even out of her mouth and was hurrying toward her. "What?" His look took in the small room with its nondescript bedding, but he could see signs of Emma around. There were several sketchpads, pencils, a pair of sandals and a hat tossed on a chair and, most of all, a smell that was pure Emma. He would have known her scent anywhere.

"Look," she pointed to an old computer sitting on a desk.

The monitor held the remnants of the last search she had performed. Unable to help himself, Killian impulsively hugged the doctor, smiling around his tears. "She remembered Fort Williams State Park."

"That's what it looks like, but would she..." And then she remembered the call that had come in earlier...that she had ignored. "Hold on." Digging her phone out of her pocket, she was shocked to realize that another call had come in from Ariel about thirty minutes ago.

Ariel had called at 12:28, leaving a short message.

Emma asked for a ride to the airport. I'm on my way to pick her up. Just letting you know.

"Damn, why didn't I answer?" she muttered as she opened the next message.

A call left an hour plus ago.

I just dropped Emma off at SeaTac. She said you knew and understood. I have a few errands but will be at Anita's Place around three to pick up the rest of Eric's things if you have any questions. Bye.

Oh and before I forget, Emma gave me a note to give to you.

When she looked up at him, Killian could see the worry in her eyes. He didn't know what to say, but this was Emma. This woman he knew, and for the first time since landing in Seattle, he felt as if he were right back at Harvard, searching for the woman who, after one look, he had known he was going to marry. He gently squeezed the doctor's fingers. "That's my Emma, Doctor Blanchard. Taking charge, and if she finds herself, she just might save us all. Now, how about a ride to the airport? I'm going after my girl."

With a little smile, she shook her head and led him out of the room and down the steps. As they were walking down, Killian had to grab onto the doctor when she lost her footing, slipping on a piece of paper. Her gasp worried him as he thought perhaps he had grabbed her too tightly, but when he saw what she was looking at, he understood. Killian bent over, picking up the page, and slowly opened it. "Look, Doctor Blanchard," he showed her the page, "Emma remembered." She had drawn a small-scale rendering of the cliff picture hanging on his wall at home.

~~~CS~~~

As soon as Ariel drove off with Killian, Mary Margaret took the letter that Ariel had handed her and sat down on the front steps to read. Knowing it was from Emma made her nervous for some reason, which made the task of unfolding the paper more difficult because of her shaking hands.

Dear Doctor Blanchard,

During our time together, you stressed that if I listened to my heart, it will lead me where I should go, and while I often thought you were crazy, I always tried to do just that. And then one morning I woke up and realized that you were right, if I listened, my heart was leading me in the right direction.

I want to thank you for believing in me until I was strong enough to believe in myself. Just know, that this is not goodbye forever, just goodbye for today.

I will be back,

Your friend,

Emma Swan

Mary Margaret dashed the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand as she smiled at her very own Prince Charming walking her way.

"Honey, are you okay?" David hurried the last few steps, worry evident on his face.

She folded the letter, tucking it back in her pocket for another read later. "I'm alright, David. It's just been an emotional day."

"Anything you want to talk about?" He held out his hand to help her up off the step, pulling her close for a quick kiss.

She leaned against his chest briefly, trying to decide if it would be better to talk about it or to put it behind her for the evening. When her stomach rumbled, she decided a cheeseburger might help her make up her mind. "Buy me dinner?"

David grinned. "And then you'll talk?"

"Perhaps." She tucked her arm through his. "Lead the way."

SeaTac Airport
Seattle, WA
Friday, Afternoon

Luckily, Ariel had driven up just as Killian and Doctor Blanchard had been climbing into her car, and upon finding out Emma's fiance was trying to get to her, Ariel had volunteered to drive. He had spent most of the drive staring at the cliff drawing he was holding in his hands and reliving the moments he had spent with Emma there in May.

His day just kept getting more and more surreal, he thought, as the airport came into view. With a little luck, he would find her before she boarded a plane, because if he missed her, finding her just became much more difficult.

"I'm going to drop you off in the same place I let Emma out a couple of hours ago," Ariel interrupted his mulling as she pulled up to the curb and prepared to stop. "I told her to check Southwest and American."

As soon as she stopped the car, Killian threw open his door and tossed over his shoulder, "Thanks, Ariel. Wish me luck," before practically running inside to search for the departures board. There were three possibilities and with nothing to lose, Killian joined the long security line.

~~~CS~~~

Emma had taken the missing picture as a sign that she was once again running, and had started walking back up the corridor to the security station. The hallway had been crowded, and with every step she kept asking herself the same question, Am I making the right decision? But for some reason it was as if there was static in her ears and she could never quite hear the answer.

When the announcement for continued boarding of her flight came over the loud speaker and she still felt unsure as to her decision, she moved out of the flow of traffic and asked herself, "What do I want?"

"In my dream, I looked up and there he was," her voice faded as if she were reliving the moment all over again.

"And what did you do?" Mary Margaret encouraged her patient to continue.

"I ran to him. Just as fast as I could run, I ran to him and when he caught me...I was home."

Home, she thought, he was her home. Someone had once said to her, "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets," so the question really was: was she willing to fight for the home that she found in the arms of her dream lover?

~~~CS~~~

Standing in line awaiting his turn, Killian found himself switching his weight from one leg to the other as well as crowding the person in front of him; anything to try to make it move faster. Finally, he reached the front, presented his documents, and was allowed to move to the x-ray line. With only a small bag to dump in one bin and the contents of his pocket to dump into another, he set them on the belt and walked through the metal detector. As he was removing his belongings from the bin, his sense of urgency was ratcheted up a notch as the loud speaker came to life-

Last boarding call for flight 815 to Boston at gate 22.

He didn't know how he knew, but there was no doubt in his mind that Emma was on that plane...and he had missed her. He closed his eyes as a sense of despair almost consumed him that he was so very close, yet not close enough for him to hold her in his arms. Suddenly...he could detect Emma's fragrance, as if she were standing next to him wrapping her body around his, promising to never let him go. "Emma," he murmured as his need for her caused his knees to buckle and he had to grab onto the side of the table to remain on his feet.

"Sir, are you feeling okay?" he heard someone ask.

Killian opened his eyes to those of one of the security officers hovering next to him, but he found couldn't formulate the words he needed to use, because Emma's scent kept getting stronger...and stronger.

"Sir," he asked again, "are you okay?"

Blinking several times, trying to clear his head, Killian finally was able to respond, "That smell," he whispered, "where's it coming from?"

The attendant shook his head and his face took on a pinkish tint. "I knocked over a bottle of shampoo that was left behind. It's quite pungent."

"No," Killian breathed almost reverently, as he knew who had left it behind, "it's wonderful. The bottle?"

The officer gave him a curious look, but without any questions he reached into the garbage bin and pulled out a bottle. The minute Killian saw it, he knew he'd been right and that it had belonged to his lady. Slowly, he reached out to touch it, not really knowing what to expect but the second he did...she was there.

"I miss you," he heard her say.

And I miss you, he thought as he tossed the bottle back in the garbage bin, picked up his bag, and with a tip of his head, walked in the direction of gate 22.

~~~CS~~~

Emma listened to the flight attendant with only half an ear as she stared out the window at the airport as it faded from sight. She was hesitant to put a name to what exactly she was watching for, but felt almost as if she were forgetting something...or leaving something behind.

Was she willing to fight for the home that she found in the arms of her dream lover?

Before she could answer that question though, she also asked herself again:

If I follow this memory and go to Boston, am I running from something or am I running to it?

Once she had given words to that question, there had been no hesitation, as she knew what she wanted. She wanted those feelings that she had when she was in the arms of her very own Captain Hook. He was her home. She just hoped that Fort Williams Park wasn't so big that she couldn't find those beads, as once she found them her hope was that he wouldn't be too far away.

~~~CS~~~

Killian watched the plane taxi away from the airport, wishing he had gotten here earlier, wishing he were right now holding her in his arms. He unfolded the picture that he had been keeping in his pocket since he had found it at Anita's place. It might be smaller than the painting, yet it was just as inspiring...magical...theirs.

He knew where she was headed. Question was, did he meet her there? Or did he wait and let her come to him?

Liam's Apartment
New York, New York
Friday Evening

When Elsa had invited him to accompany her and Henry to a party at Regina and Robin's he had to admit that he was positively giddy. However, now as he waited for her to finish dressing, he was having second thoughts, as what did he know about socializing? In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had actually socialized, much less been in the company of a beautiful woman for an evening out. He just had to get through the evening without showing what an uncouth git he was and then perhaps he would set his sights a tad higher.

He was standing in front of the mirror tying his tie when Henry popped his head around the corner. "Uncle Liam, why do I have to wear this?" He was holding his toe aloft and making a face, as if the tie had a horrible smell. "Killian says it's important to let your chest breathe."

Liam slowly turned Henry's direction, "Well, Killian does have a point. It is important to let a man's chest breathe, but," he held up a finger to forestall Henry's next argument, "it's also important to look good. And don't I look good?" He winked at Henry before looking up into the eyes of the woman who had suddenly appeared behind him.

"Very good." Elsa's eyes conducted a slow appraisal, which somehow embarrassed him. And the fact that it embarrassed him was surprising, as he'd never had difficulty talking...even flirting with women. Why did this particular woman leave him feeling tongue-tied?

Lucky for him, she turned her attention to Henry before he said anything that would humiliate himself even more. "If you don't want to wear it tonight, Henry, that's fine. I just thought you would look so grown up."

Liam had to bite his lip to keep from laughing when Henry gave her a look that said, 'I can totally see past what you're trying to do,' but then he handed over the tie, almost disgusted that it had worked anyway. "Okay, for you." She helped him clip it on and sent him off to Liam's guest room for shoes and socks.

He watched Henry scamper off before turning his attention back to Elsa. "You look lovely." She had on a blue dress that hugged her body like a second skin and he was suddenly very glad they had brought Henry back to their apartment building. "I have something for you."

"For me?"

She watched him walk to his dresser where he took the delicate silver necklace from the box. "Aye, sweet Elsa. While I was in Seattle, I saw it...and thought of you. Shall I?"

Her response was a simple nod as she turned her back toward him, lifting her hair. As he stood behind her fastening the chain, he couldn't stop himself from leaning closer to inhale that scent that made him feel as if he were in a field of flowers. Looking over her shoulder at their images looking back, he was once again in awe that someone as beautiful as she could be so giving and would want to be around him at all.

She turned to face him and smoothed her hands over his chest to his shoulders. "Thank you, Liam. It's beautiful."

Unconsciously, his arms tightened around her waist, his eyes boring into hers, trying to see himself through her eyes, until what she saw was too intense...too much. He closed his eyes, trying to distance himself from the feelings that she stirred deep inside of him.

"Liam," her soft voice brought his gaze back to hers, "it's time to start forgiving yourself. It's like Emma's doctor said, you might have started it, but Emma walked out. Killian chose to not to ask questions because he was afraid of the answers. The past is done and can't be changed. What matters is the man you are now."

"I want to believe that," he whispered hesitantly, letting her pull him into a hug. "I want to believe this is real."

She reached up, kissing him lightly. "Very real. But we need to go, or we'll be late."

She moved out of his arms, but capturing her hand between both of his he brought it to his lips, kissing the back softly. "Thank you, I..."

"Guys, come on," Henry interrupted them, "I need to go show Roland how good I look in my tie." He put his hands on his hips and preened as if he were a model on a runway.

"And you do," Elsa took his hand to lead him from the room, "you look very good."

Liam couldn't help but smile at himself one more time before following them. He hadn't forgiven himself completely but with her by his side, he thought perhaps he had started.

Robin and Regina's Apartment
New York, New York
Friday, Evening

Robin watched Regina flutter around the kitchen, redoing things that had already been done, but no matter how many times he told her it was all perfect, she still couldn't settle. After the sixth time she realigned perfectly straight silverware, he snagged her hand as she tried to move past him, pulling her down onto his lap.

She shrieked at his unexpected tug. "Robin, I need to..."

He couldn't help himself, as when she turned on that prissy voice, it turned him on and covering her mouth with his, he proceeded to distract her quite thoroughly. "Isn't that better?" he asked after several minutes of bliss.

She looked at him like she had no idea what he was talking about. "Isn't what better?" A tiny frown appeared between her perfectly arched brows.

"Why, kissing me, of course. Isn't that better than worrying your pretty head about some silly silverware?" When she had landed in his lap, her skirt slid up, exposing a perfectly sexy thigh that his hand couldn't help but to explore.

"Kissing you is perfectly wonderful, and you know that, but," she pushed out of his arms, tugging her skirt into place at the same time, "how 'bout I go check on Roland?"

"Go ahead. I'll let the guests in if they arrive before you return." She gave him a little smile and turned to walk away, but just before she was out of sight, she looked back in his direction. "Thank you," was barely out of her mouth before she was gone.

The tap-tap of her heels faded and then he heard Roland squeal something delightfully, before he too quieted and only the gentle murmur of their voices could be heard. He had a feeling that if he were to spy on them, he would see Regina sitting on the bed with Roland on her lap, their dark heads close together. It felt so natural, normal for them to be in his life that he still couldn't believe it had been only two days since they had signed the paperwork making Roland truly theirs. And Regina had taken to motherhood as if she had been waiting for it forever. So many changes in such a short time made him feel like he was dreaming.

"But if it's a dream," he whispered, "I don't want it to end."

He still marveled that he had taken one look at her and known that she was the one for him. And while it hadn't been easy, they had survived the semester, and after he left the hospital, he had moved into her place. With his casts removed and physical therapy behind them, making her his wife had been a priority. He just wished that Killian could have been there with him. They had gone through a lot together and he hadn't seen his best mate since the crash. And after the news that Blue had shared, well...it had to have changed him in many ways. How was he?

"Robin," Regina walked into the room and handed him her phone, "read this."

The tone of her voice piqued his interest, but not as much as the text from Elsa,

Elsa: Liam didn't know Killian thought Emma was dead. He had sent her to Seattle for her surgeries, but now she has amnesia. Killian is on the way to Seattle to be with her. Bringing Henry and Liam with me tonight, I hope that's alright.

"Liam knew she was alive?" Regina nodded her head. "How did Killian not know this?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, Robin. Are you okay with Liam coming tonight?"

Robin looked inside, remembering the mess that Killian had become after the death of his parents and how it had been Liam who had finally gotten through to him. And yes, Liam had been a prat for years, but that he loved his brother had never been the question. "I am," he smiled at her softly. "We both love Killian and will be there if he needs us. And now..." The peal of the doorbell interrupted his thought.

"They're here," Roland squealed as he careened around the corner.

"Slow down, little man." Robin hoisted him into arms. "Let's go see who's at the door."

~~~CS~~~

As soon as they stepped off the elevator, Liam's phone buzzed, and while he didn't want to be rude, he had been hoping for news from Killian. What he read wasn't quite what he had expected, but he was going to look on it as a step in the right direction.

K: Emma had a breakthrough and is on her way to Boston. Am going to follow. Will keep you posted.

K: Spoke with Doctor Blanchard. You were right, she was just what Emma needed. Perhaps what we all needed.

K: Saw what you did with Eric. It helped. Thank you.

Three texts, all positive messages for many reasons. Assuming Killian had sent the messages just as he was boarding the plane, Liam quickly sent a reply:

L: I get that two wrongs don't make it all right, but am happy to help. Good luck with Emma.

He just hoped that in a city with over half-million people, Killian knew Emma well enough to locate her quickly.

"Killian?" Elsa turned back to ask about the message when she realized he hadn't followed.

"Aye," he handed her the phone to read the messages, "but I know he'll find her."

Elsa squeezed his fingers. "He will. In fact," her laughter calmed his nerves while they waited for the door to be answered, "have you heard the story of how they finally got together?"

Had he? He was ashamed to say that if he had, he didn't remember, but found himself interested in learning more about his brother's courtship of his Emma. "I haven't. Will you share it with me...later?" His voice sounded husky, even to his ears.

Her glance at his lips, caused a warm glow in his chest. "I'd like that," she promised just as the door was opened by the hosts.

~~~CS~~~

Regina had finally gotten over her trepidation and they had made it through the meal and dessert without any incidences. Throughout the evening, she had been keeping a close eye on Liam and Elsa, and while she had to admit that he was rather charming, that didn't mean she wasn't worried about her friend. Since their arrival, she had been waiting to get Elsa alone, and with her mother and Nemo off somewhere, and Robin and Liam talking, she thought perhaps this was her chance. "Come help." She linked her arm with Elsa's, steering her into the kitchen.

"Is this where I get the talk about not falling for the bad boy?" Elsa laughed at her.

"If it were, would I be too late?" she deadpanned.

Elsa tilted her head and gave a smile that Regina could only describe as dreamy. "He's a good guy, Regina." Her smile grew and...her eyes sparkled. "There's a story from his past that I don't know yet, but we're a lot alike and..." she leaned forward and whispered, "he's a good kisser."

A snort burst forth before Regina could stop it. "He is...easy on the eyes." She winked at Elsa, whose face was turning red. "But seriously, Robin seems okay with him and I have to admit that Liam sure seems...smitten with you."

"Really?" Elsa hugged herself. "He makes me feel things I've never felt before." Her voice trailed off, as if she were lost in thought.

"Oh, girlfriend," Regina hugged her, "seems like I thought the very same thing about Robin, and look at us now."

Elsa sighed, "A family."

"Speaking of," Regina continued, "you, Liam and Henry looked quite like a family when you arrived."

"I'm just helping..." Elsa started to say just as Roland and Henry came rushing into the kitchen, giggling.

Regina raised a brow. "What's so funny, boys?"

Their giggling slowed down long enough for Roland to whisper, "Granma Cora was kissing Granpa Nemo." And the giggles started again.

Regina winced as she still hadn't gotten used to this new person who seemed to have taken over her mother's body. "Oh, they were, were they?" Both boys nodded vigorously. "I guess we better go chaperone, then." Each boy grabbed a hand, tugging her out of the kitchen, just as the teenagers returned. Nemo's color was high and she really didn't want to look too closely at her mother.

"Saved by the newlyweds," Elsa murmured.

Sticking her tongue out at her friend, Regina stopped and poured a shot of whiskey. She needed a bit more courage to face her mother, and allow the image of her mother and boss necking.

~~~CS~~~

Liam was leaning on the balcony railing, staring at the New York skyline, when he heard the door open and footsteps heading his way. The footsteps were too heavy to be Elsa's, but something told him it wasn't Robin. "Nice party, isn't it?" He turned toward Nemo, the person he had expected as he drew closer.

Nemo nodded his head, "It is." He was quiet for several minutes, but Liam knew the man. He knew the quiet wouldn't last, but was surprised by what was said, "She's good for you, you know."

"You expect me to disagree, don't you?" Liam hadn't expected to say those words but once he did, he realized they were true.

"And you aren't going to," Nemo turned to face him. "I say that is progress."

Thinking about everything that had occurred in his life in just three days was almost overwhelming, but strangely enough, he was...almost alright with it. "She's...been there for me, Nemo, and having her beside me feels...right." He gave him a little smile. "And she's been wonderful with Henry."

"I'm happy to hear this, Liam." Nemo patted him on the shoulder. "Don't let mistakes from the past create problems for the future. Learn from those and let Elsa in."

Liam gave him a lopsided smile. "She may be already there. I'm just not..." The door opened before he could finish and Cora called Nemo to leave.

"You deserve love, Liam. Never doubt that." His dark eyes held his for an extra second before he continued, "Now come say goodbye to my wife and then take Elsa and Henry home."

Home with Elsa, he thought, that felt right.

~~~CS~~~

With the departure of their guests, Robin and Regina had tucked Roland into bed, and then instead of leading her toward their bedroom, he led her back to the front room. "Voila," he gestured to the room where he had lit a fire, spread out a blanket and popped a cork on a bottle of champagne.

"Oh," she smiled slightly, "are you trying to ply me with alcohol?"

He winked, leading her down onto the blanket. "If I was, would it work?" He handed her a glass of bubbly.

Regina took a sip, giving him a coy smile. "Perhaps..."

Robin watched her relax back onto the blanket and stare into the flames. He loved how the light from the fire heightened the color in her cheeks, caused her hair to shine and her eyes...they were so dark and fathomless that he felt himself drowning in them every time he gazed at her. "You were wonderful tonight, you know? There was no reason to worry."

"It was easier than I expected," she gave him a tiny smile, "and it was wonderful to see Elsa, and Henry again." Turning over on her stomach, she propped her chin on her hands and leaned on his chest. "What do you think of the Liam and Elsa development?"

Robin didn't say anything as he absently ran his fingers through her hair. "I told Liam," his smile grew causing his dimples to pop, "that if he hurt her I'd kick his arse, even if he's the brother of my best mate."

"My hero." She batted her eyes at him. "Elsa is smitten, but...they look good together."

"Well," he pulled her up until her lips were within kissing distance, "we'll keep an eye on them." He pulled her snug against his body, gently kissing each eye closed. "But now," he whispered, gently kissing her lips, "I have a few plans that only involve the two of us."

"Show me?"

"My pleasure, Mrs. Locksley," he barely got out before their lips connected and there was no talking for quite some time.

Liam's Apartment
New York, NY
Friday Night

All the way back to their apartment building, Elsa kept wondering how the night would end. Would Liam and Henry say goodnight at their door and she walk to her door alone? Would they walk her to her door and say goodnight then, or...

"Elsa," Henry grabbed her hand, pulling her through the door to Liam's apartment as soon as it was open, "come tuck me in."

"Oh? Are you sure you need me?"

She was looking at Henry, but when Liam's voice reached her ears saying, "Very much," his whispered reply sent chills down her spine and when her eyes met his, she was really surprised she didn't melt onto the floor in a puddle.

"Come on," Henry broke the spell, "I'll show you which pajamas I brought." Before she said something she shouldn't, she followed Henry down the stairs to his room.

In the end, Liam followed them, and after Henry was in bed she followed him back upstairs where, taking her hand, he led her out onto the balcony. It was a warm night but up this high the light breeze stirred the air and his presence stimulated her senses.

His hands cupped her elbows and slid slowly up her arms until he grasped her shoulders. He overwhelmed her, but in a good way...in a really, really good way. She was ready when he kissed her, so gentle but yet...she could feel him in every nuance of her soul.

She slid her arms around his waist, splaying her hands over his muscled back as his lips moved from her mouth to her jaw then her neck.

Elsa could feel how she was affecting him and it was almost too much...too fast. She stepped back an inch and stared up into his face, absorbing the way he looked at her, as if she were the only woman who'd ever mattered. The unguarded emotion she saw on his face completely transfixed her, sending a host of butterflies winging their way to her stomach.

"I love how you look at me," his warm breath drifted over her face.

She cocked her head. "How am I looking at you?"

His blue eyes blazed as he returned her gaze. "Like I'm special." His voice softened, "Like I matter to you."

"Oh, Liam," she cupped his cheek, "I was thinking that I loved the way you looked at me."

He arched his brow, "And how is that?"

"Like I'm beautiful," she whispered. "Like I'm the only woman who's ever affected you this way. Like in a room full of other women, you'd only see me."

"All true," he stepped even closer, "you make me feel alive."

I'm gla..." was all she got out before her lips were busy in other ways, and it was quite some time before she got around filling in the blanks about Killian and Emma's journey to find each other.

Fort Williams Park

Portland, MA

Saturday Morning

Emma had checked out of her nondescript hotel, and as she stood waiting for her rental car she thought about the address on her driver's license. What would it hurt to drive by and just look...but in the end, she had opted to drive straight to Portland. That was where her memory was leading and her heart wanted her to follow.

The traffic out of Boston was relatively sparse and she was making good time, until she crossed into Maine and the number of cars increased substantially. She didn't have to wait long to figure out why, as in the distance she could see a multitude of large colorful balloons peppering the sky, telling her she had arrived at precisely on the wrong day. By the time she crossed into Portland's city limits, her nerves were frayed, and she wanted nothing more than a cup of hot chocolate. When she saw a sign for a food ahead, she only had to jockey for position with a couple of cars before she could pull off and park, taking a much needed timeout.

Stepping out of her car, Emma stared at the beautiful Victorian home, the sense of deja vu so strong, she was temporarily thrown off balance. Once her equilibrium had returned, she entered through the front door, but not into a diner as she had anticipated, but a gallery of sorts, one that sold everything from pottery to jewelry. Her initial thought was that she had gone in the wrong door, but then the smell of yeast tickled her olfactory system, and asking no questions, she followed her nose.

Her eyes lit up at an interior that was light and airy with booths along the wall, tables in the center and a counter equipped with tall stools in front of the kitchen. The sounds...the smells... all served to remind her of...but then she lost the memory...just as quickly as it had appeared.

"Have a seat anywhere, honey. I'll be right with you," a gum chewing waitress with bright pink hair said as she disappeared behind the counter.

Emma shrugged a shoulder and grabbed a small table in the corner, where she could both see out the large windows as well as observe what was happening in the room. Watching the waitress quickly move from table to table, she realized she wasn't feeling anxious at all. She had surprised herself, actually, as her emotions had been all over the place in the Seattle airport, even leaning toward panic for a minute...or two. But since arriving in Boston...she felt different. Would she have felt this way a week ago? No, she didn't think so, as until her dream lover had been a no-show, she had been content, but once he was gone...a fire burned inside of her to find him again...and not let him go. And as the time wore on and she was getting closer to her destination...something...something was happening in the air. It crackled with electricity, giving her goosebumps and creating chills that zipped up and down her spine.

Once she had ordered a cup of hot chocolate and a cinnamon bun, Emma pulled out her ever-present sketch book. There were several paintings hanging around the room and she would bet they were depictions of scenes around the area. Had she been to any of them before?

Her danish complete, she pushed aside the empty plate and roughly sketched the room, focusing on the many personas of the pink haired waitress, quickly moving from table to table. Flipping to a new page, a new drawing started to take shape under the quick, almost unconscious movements of her pencils, but when she was done, she wasn't surprised. There was the cliff, the waves rolling against its base, the large rock waiting for her at the top, covering her blue beads.

"That's quite good," she heard from behind her.

Emma gave the woman a half smile. "Thank you."

"Do you only sketch?" she asked.

Did she? She didn't really know. As Kate, she took photographs, but as Emma Swan...what? Sketches and...what? Anything? "I...I'm not sure," she told the woman, hesitant to say too much.

The woman studied her carefully as if she was trying to make up her mind. Finally, she pulled a business card from her pocket and laid it on the table in front of Emma. "Let me know if you're ever interested in showing your work. Name's, Fox. Cleo Fox."

Just like she did at Ariel's gallery, she thought as she looked down at the card, "I'm K..." She almost said Kate, but that no longer felt right, so she covered her hesitation by clearing her throat and finishing with just Emma. However, when the woman didn't say anything, Emma glanced in her direction to find her studying the drawing of the cliff. When the woman asked her several questions about lead hardness and shading and she was able to answer, she was left to wonder where that information had been hiding.

"Enjoy Sonata cliff," Cleo told Emma as her help was requested behind the counter.

Emma gave her a confused look. "Sonata cliff?"

Cleo laughed, "Oh you must not be local." When Emma shook her head no, she disappeared for a brief time, returning with a brochure for Williams State Park. "It's on page 4." She grimaced when her name was called again, "Guess I'd better go put out the fire. Nice meeting you." And just like that, she was gone.

Emma watched her walk away, feeling slightly bemused by the entire encounter. Taking a last drink of her hot chocolate, she opened the brochure and read,

Sonata Cliff, one of the higher peaks in the park, is well-known for its tale of reuniting lovers by luring them with music created by the wind through the trees.

Sonata Cliff, she thought as she repacked her sketchbook and pencils, will you sing to me? Taking one last look around, she made her way back to the car, but unable to climb inside without taking a last look at the exterior of the diner. Old Victorian home, large porch, turrets, and familiar...almost as if it was on the tip of her tongue, but when she tried to spit it out...it was gone. With another longing sigh, she tossed her bag into the passenger seat, and continued her journey forward.

The closer she drove to the park, the more anxious she became. Wondering...hoping that the beads would still be there. Praying that, with only a gentle touch, she...would once again be whole. Wanting the answers that only those beads could give her. Needing the wind to sing, sending her to...him.

The park loomed ahead, seeming to beckon, welcoming her back from her absence. As soon she drove through the gate, there was an immediate change in the atmosphere; it came alive.

We missed you, the trees called to her.

You are loved, the wind sang.

Emma no longer felt as if she were steering the car. It was as if an invisible force had taken over and was guiding it to where she needed to be. Knowing that the feeling was too strong not to be real, Emma allowed the car to bring her along for the ride. Deeper and deeper, she drove into the park, wondering where she was going. Wondering if she was crazy, but the goosebumps covering her arms were from anticipation...not of fear.

She had been inside the park for no more than fifteen to twenty minutes when the wind whipped around the car, and she swore she could hear the tinkling of notes. The farther she drove, the louder the music, until...it was if a single ray of sun shone just for her...providing a guiding beacon.

The wind swirled around the car.

The notes were joined by voice, guiding her with a force stronger than simple gravity.

Emma followed the path between the trees, gliding to a stop when the view spread out before her, bringing with it such strong emotions that her throat clogged, and tears sprang to her eyes. Slowly, she turned off the engine, unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. As she stepped from the car, a wave of such pure love encompassed her that she had to grab hold of the door with one hand and the car with the other to keep from falling. Wave after wave crashed over and around, circling her with music and song, bringing her hope...bringing her home.

She shut the door and started walking...toward the edge of the cliff, one step...and then another. With every step, the wind lifted her hair, bringing forth words. The words rushed by, swirling in the wind, bringing with them the smell of the sea and the sand. The closer she came to the edge, the louder they were, pulling her nearer and nearer to a large rock that she just knew, had been waiting for her.

Emma circled the rock and bent over with every intention of pushing it aside...but, it had already been moved. She reached into the tiny space beneath, just large enough for her hand, but it was...empty. Without conscious thought, her fingers sifted through the sand, searching...seeking the beads, but...it was true...they were gone.

She had to ask herself if it was the right rock, but…it felt right. And while her memories were faulty about some things, just…not this memory. At least that didn't feel right, unless…it was a movie she had seen. Was that where the memory came from?

But…the feelings. Those were real. Those were hers.

And this place…there was magic.

She couldn't stop herself from reaching back into the space. Hope that she hadn't been wrong. That some of the magic she felt put them back, made them real. That the beads were…there.

But no…still empty.

A lone tear dropped, landing with a splash on the rock and the thought that perhaps she had been wrong once more flitted through her mind.

Until…

An invisible force pulled her up…

And her heart stopped.

It was him.

"Hook," she sighed, her voice nearly inaudible, so quiet a mere mortal shouldn't have heard...but then his quirked brow gave her pause.

Looking for these? Hiseyesseemedtosayashe lifted his hand...the beads dangling from his fingers.

One step...then two, she moved toward the man, his eyes calling to her. The closer she drew, the clearer the words until she could hear, "when two souls are destined to meet..."

Three feet away, his heat radiated outward, surrounding her...warming her...chasing the loneliness away.

So close she could almost touch him...allowing her to hear, "I promise you that I will never forget these beads."

A half-step, and...she stopped...her eyes drawn to the beads before immediately being pulled back to his eyes...and the look in them caused her whole body to tremble...nearly taking her down...to her knees. Every thought she would have shared disappeared, and all she could hear were the words, our promise to each other and what they stand for echoed inside her head, each word louder than the one before. A quick inhalation was all there was time for as his arms closed around her and their lips were pulled together, as if each half had met its whole.

His gasp reverberated throughout her body, bringing with it more chills that climbed her spine, and as the wind swirled around them, bringing the music to a crescendo, it also brought...her. Her...Emma Swan, memory after memory crashed through her system, invading her mind, cleansing her soul.

Her life...Blue...Ruby...Ashley and Elsa.

And...her precious love...Killian, meeting, kissing and falling in love, Unforgettable...and...she pushed back, just enough to free her lips, "Killian," she whispered through her tears, "I remember."

He cupped her face, unwillingly to let her get too far away and whispered, "Welcome...home...Swan..." Each word followed by a kiss...her right eye, her left cheek...her nose. And then, as if unwilling to wait any longer, the distance between them disappeared and finally...after months of being lost, she had truly come home.

~fin

Well...do I deserve some love? Hit me with all your thoughts. The good, the bad, the high, the low... Only 2 more chapters let and possibly an epilogue...depending on the muse...