Emma managed to construct the villa again, right under the fairies' sacred tree. This time there was no mistaking its magic, shimmering and glowing and humming with her power. Emma added a bit of furniture this time - a table and chairs, a fireplace, a sofa, some rugs - to save the embarrassing implications of having nothing in there other than the bed. She also added some walls rather than just windows – now that others were looking, she wanted a bit of privacy with her pirate. She tilted her head to the side in proud approval at its mix of modern architecture (really, how had she not noticed how out of place it looked in the Enchanted Forest the first time?) and log-cabin comfort.

The fairies fluttered about the place with piles of clothing, shoes and, importantly, food. This time, she did not intend to start a lengthy, sex-driven fast. The fairies packed away warm cloaks and one even conjured a good approximation of Killian's leather greatcoat. That fairy looked a bit wistful and she tucked it into a wardrobe at the edge of the room.

Every fairy wanted to hug the Saviour and wish her luck. Killian pushed her inside the door to cut short the goodbyes. He wanted away from the meddling creatures as quickly as possible. He knew they were going to help, but the price with fairies was always intrusion into his thoughts and feelings, and his relationship with Emma was complex enough with other hands in the mix. He hadn't really wanted Emma to hear the he loved her for the first time from a magic glow under a tree. Far better to discover that your relationship was true love over time, he thought, and not feel the need to live up to a magical ideal.

The White Fairy flutter to an open window of the villa while Killian and Emma sat cross-legged on the bed, facing each other like the last time, hands clasped together over their knees.

"Killian, you imagine the place you want to go. Somewhere in the realm, somewhere you know well enough to see in vivid detail," she said. Killian nodded, eyes closed and focussed on their destination. "Emma, channel your magic through Killian's thoughts."

Killian opened one eye and looked at Emma. "Careful in there, Swan. Keep your magic off my unrelated thoughts," he warned.

Emma shook her head at him. "What are you afraid I'm going to find out, Captain?"

"There is plenty I am afraid you'll find out, and I would prefer the chance to tell you myself, in my own time. So kindly keep your magic on task," he said, shooting her one last meaningful look before he closed his eyes again.

Emma mentally added in more blank pages. One step forward and several back with getting to know this man.

Emma closed her eyes and sent a white light out around them. She tugged one hand free of his and settled it over his heart, feeling his pendants beneath her palm. "Oh, I see it," she smiled, whispering, giving his hand a squeeze. "Now, White Fairy, we're ready."

The White Fairy zipped into the air above their heads and scattered just enough fairy dust to supercharge Emma's magic. The glitter exploded into the glow of Emma's enchantment. The White Fairy flew out the open window in a whoosh, as the whole of the villa tilted and disappeared behind a burst of white light. When the light dimmed again, it was gone.

…

Emma and Killian opened their eyes again when they felt the heat of the magic diminish. Their little holiday home had transformed, slotting neatly on top of cliff above the tiny fishing village where Killian grew up. It looked like any of the other little houses, now, flaking white paint across the plaster walls and battered, sea blue shutters at the edges of the windows. The windows afforded a view across the harbour, a few fishing boats still tied to the docks, but most out on the water in the distance. It was a working day, and Emma could hear the chatter of the market square in the town below.

Emma and Killian grinned at each other in amazement. In her concentration on the magic, Emma had wrapped his necklace once around her fist, and was pressing it hard into his chest. She released it as she relaxed, patting his chest and dropping her hand back down to his. He slipped his hand behind her head and pulled her across his lap for a kiss. She leaned into him, then crawled close, and lay him down against the mattress. She kissed him slowly, running her fingers over the scruff on his jaw.

"That actually worked," he said in wonder.

"Will Arthur be able to figure out where you were born?" she asked, sliding off his chest and onto her side on the bed, facing him.

"Not anyone left alive who still remembers my origins," Killian replied. "And I wasn't born here. I just grew up here. I was born in my mother's country."

"Where was that?"

"Camelot, of course. Why the hell else would that bandit Arthur be after us?"

Emma stared at him, her mouth wide open. Really? That was relevant information. That was a blank page that should have been filled in previously, right? She felt completely thrown all over again.

"Killian," she frowned and tried to keep her voice steady. "My love." She searched for the words. "I accept that there is a lot of history behind…" she waved her hand generally over him, "…you. But I feel that if we are to have any sort of future… us… you need to be a lot more forthcoming." She waited a beat. "A lot more forthcoming."

He turned on his side and looked into her eyes. "You're right," he said, holding her gaze. "I suppose I am naturally given to secrecy, and I should not keep secrets from you. I have done a lot of things I'm not really proud of, and I don't like sharing it all. But I will try to answer all your questions honestly, and I will try to tell you what you need to know without you having to ask first."

Killian laid back with Emma in his arms, thinking. "I don't know what my number is. I honestly don't. But even a quick mental breakdown would put it much higher than I'm willing to say. If you think about, over 200 years – ish - and say only 5 per year, that's already breaking 1,000 and more than I'm comfortable copping to. I tended not to like sleeping with a woman more than once unless I was in love with her, and I've only ever been in love with Milah, and you."

Emma closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the mattress. "I'm not sure I actually wanted an answer on that one anymore," she admitted. "I will try to be more careful what I ask."

They lay next to each other for a while, without him offering up any further information.

Finally she prodded: "I need to know about Camelot. Who was your mother? What did she tell you of Camelot? What is your family connection there?"

"Right… of course. My mother was a noble woman. She came from a wealthy family, but fell in love with my entirely unsuitable sailor of a father, who came from this little town," he gestured to the window. "He brought her here when she married him. She had Liam here. But when she was pregnant with me, she decided to leave him. She packed up Liam and ran back to Camelot. So I was born there. He dragged her back not long after I was born, so I remember precisely nothing of Camelot. I have no memory of Arthur, not even of hearing his name. Liam may have known more. He kept journals from the time he was very young, and I still have them… stored carefully back in Storybrooke, and no use to us whatsoever."

"Did any other members of you mother's family come to this town? Was she alone?"

"Ahhh… yes. There was an aunt. Aunt Mairead. She had a family of her own here. My cousins. God, there were dozens of them, or seemed like. She would have taken me in, certainly, had my father deigned to abandon me here and not dropped me off in some unknown hovel."

"Your father sounds like a piece of work," Emma said.

"Ha! My father was a faithless bastard who treated my mother terribly and Liam and I even worse. Liam always said we had a sister, too, older than him, but that my mother… Oh!" Killian sat up, suddenly clear-eyed and full of nervous energy. "Of course. Liam said he thought we had a sister, not that Liam ever knew her, she was long gone by the time he could remember anything. I never knew if that was fact or fiction, and my mother and father certainly never mentioned her. But if my mother sent her away, it would make sense that she sent her to her own family, in Camelot."

"Would Mairead's family know of her?"

Killian shrugged. "I don't know why they would. This was a couple of centuries ago, and the connection is pretty slim. Still, we could ask around."

Emma stood up and stretched. "Hey, pirate, want to show me around the great metropolis of… what is this town called anyway?"

"Cath Harbour," he said.

"Cath like Catherine?"

"No, cath roughly translates as battle."

"Oh." Much like hers, little about Killian's childhood felt very good. He'd had family, but it had done him little good, and a mother, who had died before he really knew her. "Let's go see the town, then."

Killian laughed. "That should take us all of 10 minutes. But, yes, milady, let us explore the great metropolis of Cath Harbour. It's at least a market day, and we can stock up with some food."

Emma smiled, pulling her cloak over the turquoise dress that the fairies' sacred tree had chosen for her. It was a warm enough day out, but the breeze off the ocean would blow right through her in a sleeveless dress.

They took off along a path that led along the cliff edge, then switchbacked down to the village beneath. Emma held onto Killian's arm, and thought of how carelessly they had been walking down the main street of Storybrooke when the ground quite literally fell away under them. It had been almost four weeks now. What must Henry think? Her parents? Had Regina figured out that Merlin opened the portal?

The market square was crowded with merchants and shoppers. Killian explained that the market happened twice a week when he was boy, and apparently still drew people from surrounding towns and villages, as the numbers swelling the square were far greater than Cath's total population.

Killian started over to the sea-edge of the square, remembering Mairead's house standing with one set of windows to the square and the other to the sea. He tried to remember which house, hunting for any clues at child-eye level that might spark a memory. A stall-owner saw him looking, and Killian fell into a friendly conversation, hoping to turn up clues about his long-ago family connections. Killian angled himself so that he could still follow Emma's movements as she browsed through the market. He saw that her bright blond head had stopped at a stall near the farthest edge of the market, and could see her chatting with the woman behind the counter.

The stall-owner identified the house for Killian. The merchant knew a story of two brothers, both Jones, who had married women from Camelot, long ago. Mairead was not his mother's sister by this account, but Mairead's husband was his uncle by blood. The tall, elegant house on the market square was still owned by a family named Jones.

Killian thanked the man for the information, and cast his eyes across the square to find Emma. She was no longer at the fruit stall, the woman there now talking to new customers. His eyes grazed over a grid around that stall, trying to find her. No blond head, no bright cloak, no hint of a sea-coloured dress anywhere.

It took less than a minute for Killian to realise that Emma was missing.