"Mom?" Henry yelled down the phone in excitement. "Mom, are you there?"

Emma's voice broke as she tried to answer. She had not been able to stop crying since Killian rang Regina's number. Regina had spoken to her for 10 minutes, a monologue of Storybrooke life and Henry's thoughts and feelings that detailed almost every school day she had missed. Emma had not managed more than a squeak through her tears. Regina tried briefly to be understanding and gentle, but gave up in the end.

"Emma, I'm going to put him on and you have to stop crying," Regina finally said in frustration. "I know you've been through a lot and you're still weak, and the hormones, but you'll freak him out."

"'Kay," Emma managed at last, along with a sob that sounded something like "ready."

But now that she heard his voice, real and alive and safe in Regina's house, in a surrounding she could see in her mind, Emma lost it completely.

Killian pried the phone out of her fingers and took over. "Henry, it's… "

"Hook! What's going on? Is Mom okay? Why is she crying? You didn't do anything to her, did you?"

Nothing I'm going to admit to in a phone conversation with a 13-year-old, Killian thought, his guilt briefly cataloguing his sins: pulled her into a portal, indirectly responsible for her near-rape and murder, got her pregnant, let her get pulled into the Underworld while all alone in hospital…

"Your Mum's fine, lad. She's just overwhelmed at hearing from you again. She's been missing you every day we've been gone." By now, Emma had her head in his lap and was shaking. Killian had intended to hit speaker phone, but hesitated as the sobbing was honestly heart rending. He rubbed her back and tried to engage Henry in conversation until she calmed down. "They're happy tears," he lied.

"She's crying because she's happy?" Henry sounded distinctly sceptical. "She doesn't sound happy."

Killian looked down at the woman in his lap. A patch of dampness was spreading over his jeans as her 'happiness' cried itself into the fabric.

"Happy's probably the wrong word," Killian agreed. "Emotional is probably what I'm looking for."

Henry sounded stubborn, uncertain. "Mom's not a crier. What have you done to her?" he accused.

Killian realised that when he fell into that portal, he and Emma had been publicly involved very briefly. Henry knew they'd been on a date or two, but he would have no inkling of how things had moved on over the last month. Moved on fast and deep. To Henry, he was still 'Hook', and a few sailing trips were not enough to convince the lad that his mum was safe with a pirate, not when he had evidence to suggest she wasn't fine.

"Henry, Regina told you that your mum was stabbed, and even though magic healed her, she still needs time to recover," Killian explained. "And she's so desperate to see you, she's just over-emotional. I promise you lad, I would never, ever hurt her."

Henry sighed. "I know you wouldn't, Hook. I'm sorry." He thought for a moment. "Maybe I could just talk to her, even if she can't answer back?"

Killian laughed. "That's pretty much what Regina had to do," he said as cheerfully as possible. "I'm going to put her on, okay?" Killian squeezed Emma's shoulder gently. "I'm going to put Henry on with you, love. He's happy to just talk and you can listen."

Emma felt Killian holding the phone against her ear. And she heard Henry's voice again, strong and clear. "Mom? You there? Mom told me all about what happened to you and Hook in the Enchanted Forest. I'm really sorry you were hurt but she and Hook say you're okay now. Are you okay? Oh, I forgot I'm not supposed to ask you questions yet."

Emma hiccupped in response.

"Mom's bringing me down to see you in New York. She says I can skip school for a week and visit. I can't wait to see you!"

Emma sniffled at the phone. "I… love you, Henry," she croaked out. "I miss you so much." She managed to sit up next to Killian and take the phone from him. "When are you coming?"

"On Friday, straight after school. We're taking a plane. Mom says Hook has an apartment we can stay at?"

Emma smiled. "He does. It's a really nice apartment, much bigger than the one we had in New York. And it's right on the park." Killian handed her tissues as she tried to control herself. "You'll have your own room here."

"Cool," Henry said simply. "Oh, Mom wants to talk to you again. I'll see you on Friday, okay? I love you, Mom."

Emma couldn't respond, and by the time Regina took the phone again, she had lost the power of speech.

"Oh, for God's sake, put Hook back on," Regina muttered.

Killian took the phone again. "We'll see you on Friday," Regina told him. "The flight lands at 6.30 that evening."

"I'll send a car to pick you up," he promised. "I don't think Emma's up for a trip to the airport, and I can't really leave her." Emma had slumped back down into his lap. "Regina, have you told Henry about the baby?"

"Not yet," she conceded. "It's all been a lot to handle, and you two weren't at the baby-making stage when you left here, so it might be a bit difficult for him to accept. But once he sees you two together again, I'm sure he'll be ready to hear it. Just give him a bit more time."

"Of course. It's just… Emma really has been… emotional. Unpredictable. Regina, could this be a side effect of the pregnancy?"

"Could be," she mused. "It's awfully early. But she has a lot of magical emotion running around her system and pregnancy could set it off in different directions. Should have thought of that before you knocked her up, pirate."

"Thank you, Regina, as always, for your sympathy," Killian snarked.

"See you Friday. Hand Emma a tissue for me," she said, and hung up abruptly.

…

Emma stood on the sidewalk outside an electronics shop not far from their 5th Avenue apartment. Killian had coaxed her outside into the autumn sunshine, hoping that a Henry-focused shopping trip might cheer her up. She'd followed Killian around the store as he peppered the sales clerk with questions about games systems, finally coming away with an Xbox and a selection of games. Emma shook her head and accused him of trying to buy Henry's affection. He'd only asked if she thought it might work.

But when she'd nearly passed out at the check-out, Emma admitted that she didn't have the legs for the walk home. She stood on the sidewalk under an awning to shelter from the sudden rainstorm, their bags of shopping at her feet.

Emma watched thoughtfully as Killian pulled his phone out of his back pocket to check an incoming message. She watched him step to the curb to hail a cab for them; she felt like she was looking properly at him for the first time since they landed in New York. He was holding an umbrella over his head, his attention focused partially on the street and partially on a text message, his light raincoat open to show dark jeans and a fitted blue t-shirt. The outfit was equal parts understated and expensive. The boots were gone – where and when the hell did he buy Chucks? She narrowed her eyes. Nope, even the belt was a deep brown. She had an urge to undo his trousers and check his underwear, because as far as she could tell, he wasn't wearing a single item of black clothing. The rings were still on his right hand, none on the left (her mind wandered to wedding bands, she could not help it), and the chain around his neck was tucked into his t-shirt, almost unnoticeable. His hair had grown out a bit and he was unthinkingly scraping it back from his face. It stuck up at odd angles in the dampness.

He looked like he had lived here all his life. Two hundred plus years of piracy wiped out by a new outfit and a dedication to modern technology.

A taxi pulled over for them a moment later, and he stepped back to where she was waiting under the awning, to hold the umbrella over her head and offer her his arm. She gave him a quizzical look, and he looked back in blank confusion. He had just found a taxi; what possible objection could Swan have to him hailing a taxi? She had just told him not a moment before that she was feeling tired, and that morning she had nearly fainted when she stood up too quickly. He tried to think whether he had crossed some invisible feminist line by hailing the cab she had just requested. None were immediately obvious to him.

"Something wrong, love?"

Emma regarded him with intense interest. "Where'd you hide the pirate?" she asked evenly.

"Still here, love. Why, do you need someone killed?"

Emma looked him up and down. "No. But tell me something: what colour are your underwear?"

"What?"

"You heard the question. Answer it."

He looked at her searchingly, then went ahead and answered carefully: "Black." He continued to search for a sign in her face. Nothing. "Is black the right answer?"

"Yup." She took his arm, stood under his umbrella and let him open the door of the taxi for her. In the backseat, she took his hand and began playing with his rings as he gave the address to the cab driver. He leaned back in his seat and looked into her eyes.

"Anything you'd like to discuss, Swan?"

"Maybe I'm just feeling hormonal," she shrugged.

"Yes," he admitted slowly. "You do seem to be. But I'm not sure what it has to do with the colour of boxer briefs."

"See? How do you know that term?"

"Internet."

"How do you know that term?"

"Henry."

Emma sighed at the name and resumed messing about with his rings, training her full attention on them. The bags of shopping included bedding and books for Henry's room, and some clothing for her, although Regina had promised to raid her closets and bring more.

"You fit in surprisingly well in 21st century New York City," she said. "That's all."

"Part of being a survivor is knowing how to adapt."

She kept hold of his hand and looked out the window at the city rushing by. New York felt strange to her now, with all her memories intact and the Enchanted Forest fresh in her mind. It felt nothing like it had when she lived here with Henry, when Killian had found her, convinced that modern reality was all she had ever known. With Walsh… she shuddered a bit at the thought of him touching her. Then she remembered the men Arthur had sent after her.

"Hey, what's going on in your head?" Killian asked as they pulled up to the apartment building, but she didn't get the chance to answer. Killian paid the driver and walked quickly to her side of the taxi. He handed their bags to the doorman and leaned down to help her out. She felt the blood rush from her head the moment she stood, and her legs gave out. Killian caught her easily and picked her up. He carried her to the elevators, but then she convinced him she felt a bit stronger. He kept an arm around her waist until they were back in the apartment.

"We really need to start following doctor's orders," he said. "You should be in bed, resting."

Emma curled up on the sofa. "I'll rest here, I promise. Get the Xbox hooked up!"

Killian laughed. "It's supposed to be for Henry. But I'll sort it out and then you can explain computer games to me," he said.

So Emma spent the rest of the afternoon on the sofa with her lover, the fearsome pirate captain who now looked every inch the modern New Yorker. She kept looking over at him to see if he would transform into Captain Hook. It never happened.

…

"So the man who Killian thinks was his father is Davy Jones?" Will had exactly the same reaction to the news as Belle had. "That… actually, that makes sense. I have a hard time believing that's not true."

Belle explained again to them all that it didn't matter which man was Killian's father. Arthur was convinced Killian was his son, and therefore a threat to his rule. And Davy Jones knew how to get to Camelot in the Jolly Roger. They had to find him.

"This is insane. The only way for one of us to speak to Davy Jones is to die," Snow shook her head hopelessly.

"I'll go," David said instantly. "If this man can get us to Emma, we have no choice. We have to find her."

Snow shook her head. "David, aren't you listening? You would have to die… we can't bring you back from a meet and greet in the Underworld."

Belle looked up from her books. "There is a way. A potion made of the crushed shenflower, just enough to tip David into a near death, but not quite enough to stop his heart. We would have to trust, though, that Davy Jones wants to send David back to us, and not take him across the river to the Underworld."

"Do you know where to find this flower, Belle?" David asked, undisturbed.

"David, no! This is too dangerous," Snow pleaded.

"What else can we do, Snow," he took her in his arms. "We must find her, before Arthur does."

Will grabbed his coat, looked at the pictures and information in Belle's book, and opened the door to their room. "I'll collect the flowers. Belle, you figure out how to make the potion." He shut the door behind him, leaving the three others to prepare themselves for what had to be done.

…

Davy Jones stood over the latest body littering his stretch of the riverside. The Prince was blonde and muscular and even in a state of near-death, clutching his sword in his hand; Jones saw where the Swan woman inherited her bright hair and her fight. He gave the man a light kick with his boot.

"Rise and shine, Prince Charming," Jones drawled sardonically. He waited, tapping his boots on the hard shoreline, as David came round. The flowers and trees that he had conjured to greet Emma were gone. The landscape was grey, dusty, rocky, unforgiving. The river ran as though through in a parallel reality, giving no moisture or nutrients to the land around it.

David woke slowly, his surroundings coming into hazy focus a little at a time. The lingering effects of the poison made his brain feel slower, all his reactions dulled. But he saw the face looming over him, smudged at the edges and uncertain, but familiar all the same.

"Hook," David rasped, his voice emerging from its paralysis, "God, Hook. I found you. Where's Emma? Is Emma okay?"

The voice that boomed out in laughter, though, was not Hook's. David felt a chill spread from his shuddering heart out into his limbs. The man's face came into sharper focus. Not Hook, no, but very like… the same eyes, the facial structure, the dark hair and that infuriating smirk.

"Good to know I'm still young enough to be mistaken for my son. Though he is over 200 years old, so I'm not sure if it's much of a compliment."

"Davy Jones," David said, his voice leaden. He took in the man before him. "And… all that stuff about Arthur being Hook's father… bullshit."

Jones gave him Hook's smirk. "The apple didn't fall far from the tree with that boy, did it?" he asked. "And your little girl… very like her Daddy. They've been inseparable for the last month you know, our children, ever since they fell through that portal into the Enchanted Forest. They're not there now, of course, they fled to the Land Without Magic. But Arthur is still in the Forest, so that's where you need to be."

"What do you know of Emma?" David demanded.

"I keep up to date of what's happening with my family up there," Davy said deliberately. "So I was watching my son with that little girl of yours. Pretty thing. They've been… busy… in the Enchanted Forest."

David's jaw clenched and his hand unconsciously gripped his sword.

"Planning to murder my son for defiling your daughter?" Davy asked with a hint of a mocking laugh.

"Thought had crossed my mind," David answered cautiously, circling Davy.

"You rather missed your chance at murderous indignation with the last one she fell in with… Baelfire. He's been through here," Jones nodded towards the boat bobbing on the silvery river. "Loved her in the end, but too little, too late and all that…"

David held his counsel. The man in front of him was a demon. Anything he said…

Jones cut off his thoughts. "It was a rhetorical question, anyway, asking you what's on your mind. I can read your thoughts when you're down here. And I was able to read your daughter's when she was here."

David froze. "Emma was here?" he asked, incredulous. He felt all the fight go out of him. "Emma's…" David couldn't finish the sentence. He was too late. He was too late to save her. He crumbled.

Jones took a careful step up to David and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Your daughter lives. I healed her and I sent her back to my lad." He met David's eyes. "She was badly hurt, though. Arthur would have killed her if he could. You have to stop him."

David dropped his sword to the ground in equal parts relief and acceptance. "Emma is alive? She's okay?"

"She's better than okay. I said I could read her thoughts, and that girl is properly smitten with Killian." Jones raised an eyebrow at Emma's father and gave him the same self-assured smirk he had seen a hundred time on Hook's face. "And who could blame her? We are indeed a good-looking family."

David snorted, then admitted: "Hook loves her, that is also certainly true. Even if he's not what I would have chosen for her…"

Here Jones cut him off with a flourish of his hand. "And why not, man? How many men do you think will happen along in your girl's life who will sacrifice and protect her the way my boy has? What sort of short-sighted arse are you, that you wouldn't choose such a man for her?"

David looked Killian's father up and down. "He is a pirate, and his father is a demon of the Underworld. I admit that gives me pause."

"Your opinion is moot now at any rate," Jones waved off the insult. "They are bound together forever by blood."

David looked flummoxed, again. Jones rolled his eyes. "I wasn't expecting an intellectual powerhouse in the pretty-boy prince, but even you can reckon out the consequences of a man and a woman in love, wandering for over a month through a land with no birth control."

"Emma's pregnant?" David gasped. He would kill Hook…

"Now, now, I told you that I could hear that," Jones warned. "And it really is entirely up to me whether I take you across that river or not. I won't hesitate, if I believe you will do anything other than defend the happiness of our children, and our grandchild. Emma loves Killian body and soul, and your job is to protect all that she loves."

David sat wearily on the stony ground. Jones was right. Emma loved the pirate, and she was carrying a baby now. He needed to get to his daughter even more urgently.

"Where do we find the Jolly Roger, and how do we pilot her back to the Enchanted Forest?"

Jones smiled. "Now, I can certainly help on both those points. I know exactly who has the Jolly Roger, and I've been wanting to see him down here for a very long time."

David leaned forward and accepted the hand that Jones offered and felt himself being pulled to his feet. "Good," said David. "I'll find Blackbeard and I'll send him down here to you. Then I'll go save our children."

"Now that, prince, sounds like a plan." Jones waved his hand and a long parchment appeared between his fingertips. "Sit down with me, and let me explain how to journey between realms on the Roger."

The two men talked into the night, and it was hours before Jones sent David blinking back into the light of Camelot, looking up into Snow's eyes.