I just wanted to thank all of you who have followed, favourited and even reviewed this story - I've loved reading your thoughts and opinions and predictions on this fic. Much appreciated!

Disclaimer: I own, clearly, none of these characters.

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Killian didn't like to push her. Her wound may have healed, but the blood loss had not reversed, and she still looked a bit pale and weak. She had used powerful magic, while bleeding dangerously, to move the villa. He wasn't even sure that should have worked, how they had magicked themselves into a world without magic. The fairies had told them not to do it. But he supposed that lying low and hoping Arthur wouldn't find them hadn't worked out either, and needs must. In the heat of the moment, all he had been able to think about was phoning an ambulance, and that thought had led to hospitals, and that thought had led to the only other city in the world without magic that he had any experience of.

This world's medicine had its limits, however, and the doctors had warned him that she would continue to feel lightheaded and weak for a few weeks. So he wanted to be careful and gentle with her. Then again, she had invited him into the bath with her. She had climbed on top of him, all wet and steamy and soapy, and slid her legs apart. He could not very well deny his True Love, the mother of his child, what she craved. And thus he found himself with both hands gripping the tops of her slippery, bare thighs while she ground herself into him, panting and chanting his name like an incantation. He had never made any claims to self control in this regard.

He began to trail his fingers over her breasts, running his thumbs across her nipples, and the sensation of her bath-warmed nipples hardening under his fingertips shot straight to his cock. He sat up in the water and reached one hand into the small of her back to hold her in place, drawing little circles into her skin to make the movement seem less forceful, more caring. All the same, he held her in place where he wanted her, where she seemed very much to want him. He used his body to shift her in line with cock, all the while kissing down her neck and chest until her found a nipple and licked gently across its hardened peak. He thrust all the way inside her, sucking her nipple between her teeth at the same time. When he felt her sink all the way down on him, he stilled, drinking in the tight, warm feel of her around him, the slight friction as she moved her hips subtly above him.

Emma felt like screaming. She had been so wound up, rubbing her sensitive clit along his erection, wondering if he was going to take the hint and stop treating her like an invalid. When he penetrated her so abruptly, she lost her voice in the sensation. She felt the drag of him starting to stroke himself along her walls. She nudged her hips just a touch further back and … oh my God… right there, that is exactly the spot… oh my God, he's speeding up… His teeth teased her nipple and his tongue flicked across the responsive tip, the little jolts of pleasure hardwired to spark in her centre. Her muscles clenched around his cock involuntarily as her arousal built, and he moaned out his appreciation, thrusting faster. She could hear her voice repeating his name at odd intervals, interspersed with little pleas to take her harder, but she just could not find the right friction in the water, could not press herself down hard enough, constrained by the bathtub.

She whined in frustrated confusion as he slipped his length out of her and suddenly stood and stepped out of the bath. He leaned down and picked her up – "I need to be deeper" – and carried her the short distance to the bed. He lay her wet body across the soft blankets, then grabbed a pillow. "Lift your hips, love," he said, and she followed his instructions, letting him slip the pillow under the small of her back. He climbed up onto the bed, between her legs, as she ran her arms up and down his wet biceps. She tightened her fingers around his muscles as he slammed back into her in one swift movement. Her breath shuddered.

"I want to fuck you, Emma. Hard," he whispered against her hair in his low, seductive voice. He pulled almost all the way out and then pivoted back, sinking in to the hilt. Some distant part of his brain objected that he was supposed to be gentle and loving to this woman, not swear at her and pound her into the bed. But her back arched off the mattress, bringing her breasts back up to his mouth, and he gratefully wrapped his lips around the very tip of one and massaged his hand into her softness. His brain could not hold the two competing thoughts simultaneously, so he switched the whole thing down.

Killian paced himself, watching the effect that his staccato rhythm had on her. She writhed under him, panting and breathing instructions into his hair, "Harder." "More." "Please make me come." He lifted his head from her chest and told her to slide her hand between her legs. Emma's fingers reached down and stroked gently over his balls first, then lingered to touch his cock as it thrust in and out of her, slippery and hard. She sighed and moved her fingers to flick her clit. He felt her body tense, and she held her breath as she chased her orgasm, driving her hips up to meet his thrusts and working her fingers expertly between them. He kept himself deep and drove against that spot incessantly. When she exhaled it was to scream his name. His beautiful lover, she had never been quiet, and tonight she was shouting his name like she was trying to call him back from the dead.

Killian pushed her through her pleasure, then let himself go, pulsing deep within Emma as her walls clenched him tight. He held himself above her as they came down, his brain starting to stutter back to life and he remembered how vulnerable she still was.

He kissed along her exposed neck, one hand working its way under her head where it was thrown back on the blankets, her eyes closed in satisfaction. He smiled at the sight. Killian thought that she looked well taken care of.

"Love," he murmured quietly, lifting her head with his hand, "you all right?"

She opened her eyes and attempted to focus. "You must be fucking kidding. How much louder do I need to scream to announce how 'all right' I'm feeling? You miss that or something?"

Laughing, Killian slid out of her and rolled onto his back, pulling her onto his chest in the same movement. "No, I heard that. The neighbours heard that. Jonathan is probably downstairs phoning the police." Both of his hands worked through her hair, brushing it off her face and smoothing it down across her back and his chest.

Emma closed her eyes and smiled lazily. She lifted a hand in front her eyes. "Ahhh, no glowing. I sort of miss that," she mused.

She waited for the joke or innuendo; she'd given him enough of an opening. None came. "I'm glowing," he said simply. "You're alive." He suddenly rolled her onto her back again, propping himself on one arm above her and resting the other hand on her belly. "You're both alive, and you very nearly were not."

Emma scanned his eyes for hurt, but she only saw genuine relief. "I'm sorry I frightened you. I should have used my magic back there, against Arthur, but it was like I couldn't control it properly. Ever since I found out about the baby, to be honest, it's been a little… off. But I guess none of the matters here." She shrugged. "Anyway, I couldn't die because your Daddy wouldn't let me past." She grinned at him. He still looked serious, so she raised her lips against his and kissed him deeply. When she pulled back, he was smiling again.

Leaning back against the soft blankets, she felt suddenly sleepy and began to close her eyes again. Killian moved around her, then picked her up like a she weighed nothing and settled her under the sheets and blankets. He crawled in next to her and held her close until she fell asleep. He drifted off with her, completely happy, his hand splayed protectively over the tiny bundle of cells that the iPhone's internet connection had assured him was growing into their baby.

…

To Belle's mind, it was obvious that Hook and Emma had thus far escaped Arthur. If the power-mad king was still in the Enchanted Forest rather than Camelot, it meant that he had not managed to do whatever he had left his throne to accomplish. So she was working methodically to find a way to travel there. She reckoned the best source of information would be Mairead, who after all had travelled back and forth after her marriage with apparent ease.

So while the others argued into the night over the best course of action, Belle slipped away back to the castle. She entered easily, the guards waving her past with her basket of goods for the kitchens. She followed the hallways that Will had described until she found herself in front of Mairead's door. Belle knocked softly, but the door edged open with the slightest pressure. She saw an older woman sitting by the window, looking out at the night sky.

"Mairead? May I speak with you?" she called.

Mairead looked back from the window, her face expressing no surprise at Belle's appearance. "Another visitor? No one for ages, and suddenly you all can't leave me alone. I told the others, I don't know where Killian is. If I did, I would go to him myself. I've been trapped in this castle for long enough," she said bitterly.

Belle padded forwarded respectfully and sat next to the woman. "I know you would. I know you searched for him before." Belle reached out her hand and laid it over the woman's hand.

Mairead snapped her eyes to Belle, surprised. "I loved Orla and would have protected that boy. Orla wrote to me about him; he was a bright spark, all blue eyes and evil intent," she laughed. "Always into trouble and his brother bailing him out. Liam was so sensible, and Killian so impulsive, but he was only wee. Then when Orla died, Jones vanished him, so that Arthur wouldn't get his hands on the boy. Took Liam, too. I hated Jones for taking those boys. I never saw any of them again."

Belle squeezed Mairead's hands. "Killian is alive. We think he's in the Enchanted Forest with Emma, and we need to find them, warn them about Arthur, and help them defeat him. But we don't know how to get there. How did you create a portal when you travelled with Orla?"

"I didn't travel through a portal, never. Davy took us, always, between Cath Harbour and Camelot. The journey only took about 2 days."

"Davy?" Belle asked.

"Orla's husband," Mairead said simply.

"Wait. Killian's father is called Davy Jones?"

"Yes, he was a ship's captain. He took us back and forth from Camelot on his ship. The Jewel of the Realm. Beautiful she was, carved from…"

"Enchanted wood," Belle finished her sentence, hearing Hook's voice in her head. "He knew a way to the Enchanted Forest by sea."

Mairead nodded. "We sailed back and forth freely. Nothing could catch the Jewel, and Davy was a fearless captain. But I don't know how he did it. You'd need to see Davy and ask him, and I'm afraid that's not easily done these days. Not such that you can come back and tell us all what he said."

Belle stared at her. "So the man that Killian thinks is his father is Davy Jones? As in Davy Jones' locker? He's a guardian of the Underworld?"

Mairead looked back with clear eyes. "He only became that after Orla died, after he took the boys. I thought he'd taken them to the Underworld with him."

Belle heard footsteps in the hallway, and someone calling Mairead's name softly. "That's Guinevere," Mairead whispered in a rush. "She's loyal to Arthur, and she mustn't know you're here. Quickly, out the window." Mairead nearly pushed her over the window ledge.

Belle gave Mairead's hand a final squeeze and jumped out the same way Snow and Will had. As she began the walk back to the inn, Belle turned the problem over in her mind. They needed to find the Jolly Roger, and somehow, they needed to speak to Davy Jones.