Three things were clear to Killian in the pre-dawn of the next day: Arthur's network ran deeper and wider than he had previously thought, he needed help to find out the king's motives and methods and he hated the Enchanted Forest more with each passing moment they were trapped there. Now Killian wanted to pack up Swan and Henry and take them to New York, to a land without magic and monsters. He had said as much to Swan the night before, and she had laughed that anyone considered New York City to be a safe haven of limited criminality.
But Swan's initial optimism had faded as well, as the situation grew ever more complex and no way back presented itself. They needed Arthur to unblock the path back to Storybrooke, or they needed to find a work-around. He sat back in bed, quietly plotting, with Emma curled up around him.
Killian heard footsteps approaching the villa across the rough gravel of the cliff path. He slipped out of bed and tugged on his trousers. He leaned over Emma, kissing her to wake her, whispering in her ear to stay silent, not speak. She was awake in an instant, throwing on the shirt and trousers he handed her, grabbing her blade from the spot under the pillow where she kept it overnight.
The tentative knock on the door surprised them. They were fully prepared for an attack. Instead, a cheery voice called out to them, "Good morning in there! Sorry for the early call, I know it's barely light, but I needed to talk to you before my husband was out of bed. And he's up with the sun."
Emma secured her dagger into the back of her trousers. Whoever this was, they sounded genuine to her ears, and would have no idea about the attack yesterday, or why she and Killian were feeling jumpy and defensive.
She stood up and arranged her hair a bit with her fingers. She threw Killian a questioning look before she opened the door, fearing he may run through anyone who stood there before she could find out their business. He nodded and stood back from the door, still positioning himself where he could strike if necessary.
Emma cracked the door open with the most carefree smile she could muster.
"Oh, there you are," said a smiling young woman. Emma took her in: blonde hair pulled back in functional plaits, a nondescript, woollen dress under a light cloak to keep out the morning chill. She looked a bit winded from her trek up the cliff path. She carried a small basket, which she offered to Emma across the threshold. "I'm Oona Jones. I'm looking for my… well, I don't know what he is, actually. A relative of some sort. Killian Jones."
Emma smiled and stepped back a pace, sweeping the woman inside. "Please come in," she said graciously, using her foot to nudge Killian back from his defensive position. He sighed and slipped his dagger back into place at his hip. "Look, Killian," Emma grinned at him, "your family has come calling."
Emma led Oona to a seat by the fire. "I'll get us some tea," she said, fascinated by the sudden appearance of someone claiming Killian as kin. Killian stretched out his hand in greeting and sat across from the young woman. He said nothing, just sort of humphed something that could pass for 'morning' if you were feeling charitable. Oona was.
"So, I'm Oona," she repeated herself nervously. "One of the market traders mentioned meeting you yesterday, that you were looking for the Jones house on the square." Killian nodded, still watchful, and she continued in a rush: "Aye, well, my husband is Mac Jones, and he owns the house. The merchant said you were looking for the family…" Here she stopped and began the ties of her cloak around her fingers, winding and unwinding them to soothe her nerves. Killian continued to give her nothing more than a questioning stare.
Emma set a cup of tea in front of Oona, then walked up to Killian and kicked him hard in the shin.
"Bloody... Swan," he swore, reaching down to rub his leg. "What the hell, woman?"
"Manners, Jones," she retorted. "Oona's come all the way up here on cold morning, just to welcome your sorry self to the family, and you're staring at her like she might turn vicious at any moment."
Oona giggled, instantly relaxed, and picked up her tea. She moved her fingers around it to take the coldness out of her limbs. Emma sat on the low table next to Oona's chair and turned the full megawatt of her smile on their guest.
"Oona, we did hope that Killian might still have family here. So does Mac think they might be related?"
"Aye, they certainly are related. Killian and Liam Jones, they were the sons of Mac's great, great grandfather's brother. I suppose Killian here must be descended from one of those boys? I guess he and Mac are cousins of a distant sort," she smiled hopefully.
Killian sucked in a breath at the casual mention of his brother's name. He seemed to have missed Oona's implication that he could not possibly still be alive.
Emma explained gently: "No, Killian here is that same Killian. He's been a long time in another realm, one where time works differently."
"Oh, of course," Oona nodded eagerly. "You must have been in Camelot with Mairead, after your own mother died."
Killian felt a second knife twist into his heart. He knew that Oona must consider all of this ancient history, and she meant no harm with her blunt talk of his dead mother and brother. Honestly, it was ancient history even for him, but somehow still absolutely fresh, as well.
"No," he found his voice. "I've not been in Camelot. So did Mairead return to Camelot, then, after my mother died?"
"Yes, she looked for you boys, but your father had taken you away. She never found you," she answered. Killian thought briefly of David and Mary Margaret and their obsession with always finding their family members. Clearly, the Jones family lacked the Charmings' cohesiveness. Oona continued: "So when her own children were grown, Mairead returned to Camelot, to find Kerry."
"Kerry?" Emma asked. "Who was she?"
"Killian and Liam's sister," Oona replied. "Your mother gave birth to her in Camelot, just like she did you, Killian. But your mother left Kerry behind when your father fetched her back to the Enchanted Forest. Your father would not consent to having his son stay behind… but your mother made sure he let the daughter go free."
Killian sat blankly, his face a mask. Even Emma could not read his thoughts. Everything she learned about his background just got worse, more painful, with each revelation.
"Mac knows that Arthur is sniffing around for news of you. He knows Arthur is dangerous," Oona looked thoughtful. "He's furious that all of that Camelot… I don't know… a connection to Camelot that we thought was long buried with your mother… that it's all back and present. I know time in Camelot runs differently, that's how Arthur is still here now."
Oona stopped for a moment. She realised now that Killian had only a very small part of the picture.
"I'm really sorry to say this to you, but Kerry…" Oona trailed off. "Arthur killed her," she said softly. "Your mother placed her trust in keeping Kerry safe from your father and leaving her in Camelot. But Arthur wanted you all dead. I don't really know why. Once Kerry died, your father hid you and Liam away so Arthur couldn't find you."
Killian chewed his lip. 'Hid away' sounded so much nicer than 'abandoned on a ship thousands of miles from home'. Emma thought that the parallels she had always seen between her upbringing and his were suddenly even more starkly defined: he had also been abandoned to save him from a tyrant of a monarch who wanted him dead. Still wanted him dead.
"Arthur was never after me," Emma breathed, looking at Killian. "That's why he sent those thugs. I was just bait, to draw you out in the open."
Oona set her empty teacup on the table next to Emma and stood up. "I ought to be going. I've only said things that will upset you," she patted Killian's shoulder. "I'm sorry to bring all of this bad news to your door. But I knew that Mac would bury that stubborn head of his in the sand rather than tell you what you needed to know." She gave Emma an affectionate hug. "Please come down to dinner tonight. That's why I came, to invite you. Mac does want to meet you, Killian; he does want to help," Oona urged, "We are family and we will keep you safe."
Emma saw Oona out as Killian sat brooding by the hearth. She shut the door and pulled the second chair right up to Killian's, then reached across and threaded her fingers into his.
"Talk to me, please," Emma said.
"You going to kick me again if I don't?" he accused.
Emma pulled on his hands to get him to look her in the eye. "No kicking, I promise. Just, please, please, talk to me."
Killian let out a breath. "Let's recap what we've learned thus far. Arthur appears to want me dead, for reasons unclear, and is quite happy to kill you to get me. He murdered a sister – who I didn't even know I had - and would have killed Liam and I as children if my father hadn't taken the unconventional step of abandoning us on board a ship mid-ocean when I was 5. My mother, dead by what means we still don't know, was apparently busy trying to hide us from the wrong man. Furthermore, this story slightly recasts the tale of my father as villain and my mother as angelic saint."
Emma reflected on that for a moment, then slipped in, "You're leaving out the part where you discovered some family as well. And they want to help. They want to meet you tonight."
Killian raised an eyebrow at her. "Liam aside, my family has not traditionally been all that helpful to me. Indeed, they seem to be the reason Arthur wants to kill us both."
"Arthur dragged you here from another realm, one where you posed no threat to him that we can see. We can't just run back to Storybrooke. We could magic the villa somewhere more secluded, but then what? Live out our lives in secret, never getting back to my family? Let's meet Mac and find out what he knows," Emma said.
Killian nodded in agreement. The path seemed clear to him: find a way to kill Arthur and ask questions later. And Mac might be able to help with that.
…
Armed with swords and hidden blades, Killian and Emma waited until just after sunset to walk back down the cliff path to Mac and Oona's house on the square. They moved as inconspicuously as they could, looking out for any signs that more of Arthur's thugs were in town.
Oona paced behind the front door, waiting for them to arrive. Now that word was out about Killian and Emma, it was only a matter of time before the wrong ears heard and galloped off to Arthur. Mac came up behind her and pulled her into him.
"You're going to wear out the rug, Oona. Quit your fidgeting," he told her. "They probably just waited until sunset to travel down."
"Mac, we have to convince them to stay here. It's not safe out there on their own," she implored.
"Aye, well, the clann are all here and we'll have it out at dinner. We can't force Killian one way or the other," he answered. They heard a step on the landing, and Oona jumped into action.
Killian had barely touched the door to knock when Oona swung it open and pulled them both inside. Emma stumbled over the doorstep and Killian caught her, as Oona clicked shut deadbolt locks across the door. "I didn't know if you'd come," Oona gushed. She shoved forward a tall man with dark brown hair and unmistakeable blue eyes. "This is Mac," she said.
Emma smiled to herself. They didn't really look alike, Mac and Killian, but there was an undeniable resemblance. Mac was taller and bigger – half a mountain of a man – and his hair was a shade or two lighter, but the shape of his face, his nose, his eyes… Emma could see the family connection. Killian and Mac fell into conversation straight away, and they seemed to even share a few mannerisms. So when Oona led her into the large dining room, she was not prepared for what confronted her: a table full of blue-eyed men, all looking at her like an alien had landed in their midst.
Oona waved her hand at the table. "Mac has seven brothers," she explained. Most of them had much lighter hair, almost blond, but Emma shuddered at the genetic dominance in this family of eye colour. And it was the exact same eye colour as Killian's, not an iota of difference. Also, Mac appeared to be the youngest and the runt of the litter, for as they stood up to greet her, Emma felt dwarfed by the men. Blonde little Oona, who was even shorter than Emma, looked like a fairy next to them.
Emma side-stepped out of the dining room and silently came back to stand next to Killian. She had a look on her face that made him stop mid-sentence in his conversation with Mac. "You all right, Swan?"
Emma wordlessly pulled him towards the dining room. He nearly burst out laughing at the sight.
"It seems you have your own private army at your disposal," Emma murmured.
Oona and Mac made introductions that flew over Emma's head. Platters of food were passed around, with she and Oona barely making a dent in the provisions. The men ate enormous quantities of potatoes and chicken and vegetables, the cooks bringing out fresh platters as soon as one was scraped clean. The testosterone in that room almost choked her. Killian was loving it, all of them drinking and toasting in a language she didn't understand or realise that Killian spoke. It was like they had found another brother in him. They were all drunkenly swearing allegiance to each other before the main course had been cleared away. Emma vowed to hold this evening over his head the next time he wavered over a dinner round David and Mary Margaret's.
Oona seated Emma next to her. They listened to as much male bonding as they could take before Emma turned to her and asked, "Is it always like this? Are you the only woman in the family?"
Oona laughed. "No, but my sisters-in-law are no fools. They knew what this would be. They'll be over after dinner, when they men have all been fed into a stupor and have stopped shouting at each other with quite such enthusiasm."
Mac was suddenly calling across the table at the women, his arm slung around Killian's shoulders. "That's settled then, Oona my love. Killian and Emma will stay here with us, where we can watch over them."
Emma quirked an eyebrow at that one. Killian shifted uncomfortably, knowing that drunkenly accepting a place to stay here without consulting her first was going to cause problems. Oona got in there first, glancing at Emma anxiously, "Of course you don't need to make a decision about that right now," she patted Emma's hand. "I was just so worried about you two up there all alone, with no family to help you."
Emma softened immediately. It sounded exactly like the sort of thing David and Mary Margaret would say. "Of course we'll stay, that is really kind of you," Emma smiled.
As promised, the sisters-in-law descended after dinner, bringing Emma clothes and dressing her up like a medieval Barbie doll, all corsets and plunging necklines, trying out different styles and colours to decide what to have made for her. They no-shit, actually braided her hair. Emma felt like she was 12 and having the sort of sleepover no one had ever invited her to. And because Killian's smile was back, had not left his face since entering the dining room, she ran with it. She sat on a cushy sofa surrounded by a group of women and men she had only just met, and who without question or hesitation made her drink spiced wine until she relaxed and called her a name that Killian assured her meant 'sister'.
She and Killian kept looking at each other across the room, two overwhelmed, abandoned orphans being co-opted by people who had so much family that they could not help but share. It felt strange but undeniably wonderful. Most of all, it felt safe.