~~Note: So, this story was meant to be a request answer for whimsicallyenchantedrose for my 200 Follower celebration on Tumblr, and it is LONG overdue – embarrassingly so. She chose the prompt of: "Emma goes into early labor aboard the Jolly Roger while they are sailing one day; set in the future, post-wedding and happy beginning, but everyone has returned to the Enchanted Forest to live." I hope this is one others will enjoy as well. Set in the not-so-distant future from where the show left off; though it certainly takes a different path than I know that Season 7 will. In other words, Enchanted Forest-set, soon-to-be canon divergent.
(And no, I still don't own them. If I did, this wouldn't be canon divergent at all! )
"Beginning Now, It's Ours"
By: TutorGirlml
"There's no storm we can't outrun,
We will always find the sun;
Leave the past and all its scars,
A happy beginning now is ours…"
Gently rolling waves lap softly against the hull of their ship, rocking back and forth on the open water that stretches unbroken as far as her eyes can see, soothing an eight-and-a-half months pregnant Emma Swan-Jones where she stands on the Jolly Roger's deck, leaning against the ancient wooden sides. She runs her hands along the smooth grain, lovingly reflecting that she has come to see the old girl as a home, just as the vessel had served for her husband all those countless years he had spent adrift and alone, when she feels Killian's solid presence behind her. The warmth that always radiates comfortingly from her pirate presses to her back as he stands behind her, wrapping his arms as far as he can around her rounded stomach, hand and hook resting protectively over their little one and nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck and shoulder. "Alright there, Love?" he murmurs, wordlessly urging her to lean back on him, even as he nips at her skin, causing shivers to skitter down her spine.
Breath hitching, Emma nods, suddenly not trusting her voice to remain steady. They have been married almost three years now, and she might feel bloated and unattractive at mere weeks from her due date, but neither time nor condition has ever lessened the powerful effect a single touch or one whisper of her husband's voice has on her. Killian Jones may be gaining crow's feet around his eyes when he gives her his incorrigible grin, and there may be the fewest strands of silver-grey mixed in with the dark hair at his temples, but he is still a menace to her composure in both looks and ceaseless charm. She has never become any more able to resist the desire to "pillage and plunder" than she was from the very beginning.
Her pirate gazes down at her, smirking as if he knows, but merely dips his head slightly to place a kiss to her brow. "Glad to hear it, Swan," he murmurs low, pressing her the smallest bit closer yet in his embrace. "However, I believe I shall have Henry turn her to port now. We should have our return course set before the light fades. Enjoy the sunset. We shouldn't go too far out again until after our babe joins us."
Emma gives him a small nod of reluctant acquiescence, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at his worrying over her and his protective concern for their little one's health and safety. At various times earlier in her pregnancy, both her mom and her dad had pulled Emma aside to urge a bit more patience and understanding with her anxious husband. In their world, the realm and time Killian was from as well her parents had reminded gently, bearing children carried much more risk and could cause several more lingering effects than it did in Emma's modern experience. She has tried since then to bear with her pirate and his fussing as best she can, knowing that just as she can't bear to live without him now, he cannot stand the thought of losing her either.
He moves away with a gentle squeeze of affection to her hand, vowing in a purr against her skin to return shortly, then sauntering over the enchanted wooden deck, calling out to Henry jovially and asking if his first mate needs help bringing her round. Emma turns partially to watch the two men in her life – her True Loves – whom she adores more than anything and anyone else in all the world. It makes her heart trip almost giddily to see the proud paternal smile Killian gives Henry when his stepson grins proud and pleased while showing that he has them turned about and right on course back to the castle harbor.
There had been a few bumps in the road – Killian throwing away Pop Tarts to push mackerel for breakfast, and angry accusations on Henry's part of trying to take his dad's place when Killian had put a foot down the first time Henry missed curfew on a date with Violet, came to mind with still-vivid clarity – but watching the two of them together now, a person would never know they hadn't always been family. Their rapport is easy, genuine liking and respect for each other clear in their conversation and their jests. That the man she finally gave her broken heart over to for mending loved her son so fully and completely – as if Henry were his own – as well, was more than Emma had dared hope for once upon a time.
Since their wedding and the Final Battle against the Black Fairy, not to mention yet one more life-threatening and nearly final separation, there had been a fair number of the denizens of Storybrooke who vehemently desired to return to their home realm if there were any way at all to make it possible. It seemed safer than staying in a place clearly targeted for mayhem and catastrophe; plus, it was where most of them really belonged. Her parents had led the charge in fact, once they were certain that Emma, Killian, and Henry would go as well, and that Emma was genuinely alright with the decision. Henry had been thrilled beyond belief and anxiously impatient to set out for a world where he could be a true knight of his grandparents' kingdom and have all the adventures and heroics that role would entail. With Regina working to help instead of thwart them, and a bit of advice and labor from Anton and the dwarves, it was the matter of merely a couple months' growth time to have enough beans for those who wished to return to the Enchanted Forest, restore Snow White's benevolent reign as it should always have been, and to rebuild the land they would make their permanent home.
Emma tilts her head, savoring the warm, blissful feeling in her chest as she watches Killian lean in to speak just a few brief words of suggestion or encouragement to Henry before clapping him on the shoulder and nodding affirmation to whatever she can see Henry saying in response. Henry's laughter rings out on the sea air brightly, one hand leaving the ship's wheel to swat at Killian playfully before her pirate swings away and comes back to her, the oranges and golds of the sky behind him lighting his figure as if he is surrounded by a hazy halo.
Feeling her mouth begin to water with desire for her gorgeous husband, his attractiveness only accentuated by the sunset's glow, Emma turns back to the ship's side, leaning for support gently as she rubs her hand over her stretched and unwieldy belly. The rumbling unease she feels just now is another side effect, like the sudden bouts of overwhelming need for her husband and all he can do with that sinfully delicious body, that she wants to blame on the wealth of hormones coursing through her as she comes to the end of her pregnancy. Still, her brow furrows against her will as she gazes out at the reddish ball of the fiery sun seeming to settle right on the water at the horizon line before them, unable to ignore the sharp, painful pinch of sudden discomfort in her abdomen, even as she tries to hide it. Blowing out a puff of air in the hope of breathing deeply to steady herself, Emma leaves her hand on her stomach, rubbing her palm back and forth along its curve, forcing herself to focus elsewhere and stay calm.
Though Killian would never have said a word, thinking she had no desire to give up the comforts and conveniences of the modern world she had always known, Emma knew her husband had wanted to see his own realm again. Her brave, resourceful pirate adapted himself so determinedly and well to any surroundings – even the strange and mystifying 21st century with all its gadgets and technology – that she could almost forget what an adjustment her world must have been for him… how much he had willingly given up to remain by her side. Yet as they had settled in her parents' castle, taking their own wing of apartments but still close to their large, extended family and friends, Killian's glee at showing her the ropes in his homeland had been evident, his sheer joy at for once not being off-kilter and out of the loop with customs, routines, and endless modern technologies. He never made her feel stupid or ridiculous, even when he might tease her, but was always right at her side, eager to show, to teach, and to introduce her to this simpler time and place natural to him, whether it was how to cinch her dresses with sewn-in corsets or make coffee in a world without Granny's, Starbucks or Keurig machines – and for her to see the life she would always have had if things had gone as they should – anxious to help her feel at home and come to love the place as much as he clearly did.
Thoughts of their current place and time bring her focus circling back to the trepidation her beloved pirate had suffered and dealt with when they first learned they were expecting. Not that Emma hadn't harbored her own issues, but once she managed to tell Killian and he had been awestruck and thanking her with kisses rained all over her face before falling to his knees to press his lips to her still-flat stomach repeatedly as well, her biggest worry had been allayed. This would not be like last time – alone, sick with guilt and regret, knowing that in the end the precious life she carried couldn't stay with her, and that she would have to give it up. Killian, after the initial shocked euphoria, had grown fearful over the many things which could still go wrong, the mere chance that he could lose her, the baby, or both of them. For the last month or so, it had nearly paralyzed him and stolen all of his happiness and anticipation for the event. Several long scouting expeditions with David, which she and her mother felt were more "bro bonding" exercises and an excuse for some in-depth reassuring talks, had finally brought Killian's confidence in their strength and preparation and his anxious joy to meet the child borne of their love back to the forefront.
Now, however, as she can't help bending forward a bit, curling herself around the source of pain and biting back a low moan. Emma has a fleeting moment of panic that perhaps Killian's fears are not so far off base. And then, just as though he has read her mind, the way she often believes he can, Killian is there at her side, hand and hook at her waist bracingly to still her wild thoughts.
"What is it, Love?" he asks apprehensively. "Are you alright?"
Emma can only shake her head in the negative, doing all she can now not to scream in pain and alarm her teenage son along with her husband. She clutches at Killian's hand on her waist with shaking fingers, wrapping his hook in her grip as well and leaning into his support it all it's worth. By the time she raises her head for her teary, unfocused green eyes to meet his concerned blue, she feels the unmistakable gush of liquid breaking free and streaming to the planks of the Jolly at their feet. She can't deny, even to herself, what is going on, a few weeks ahead of schedule though it may be.
Killian's mouth opens in shock, clearly floundering momentarily for words as he looks from her face to their feet and back again before asking rather needlessly, "Emma lass, are you…?"
She bobs her head rapidly in affirmation, feeling her knees give a bit and leaning into the frame of his body yet more heavily. She tries to force a smile to her lips, even as she feels silent tears breaking free to trek down her cheeks. "I think –" she breaks off on a gasp, then forces herself to continue speaking breathily with a self-deprecating chuckle at the end, "you may have been a bit late with the warning about going out on the water, Captain. Pretty sure there won't be any time for worrying about that."
Breaking into a pleased grin at the imminent arrival of their long-awaited offspring, Killian's eyes light up with happy expectation, even though they stay fixed caringly on hers. "My apologies," he murmurs lowly against her neck, offering a bit of a mocking bow clearly meant to help her keep the lighthearted mindset as long as she can. "In future, Milady, I shall endeavor to be more prepared."
Calling to Henry over his shoulder without even glancing back to the helm, he asks evenly, with impressive show of calm, "How long before we dock, Lad?"
When Henry's response is half an hour to forty-five minutes, Emma grits her teeth, knowing this will probably still be going on, but that she will not be up to trekking from the ship to the castle by then. Thinking about the nursery all outfitted, sterilized and prepared for their baby's delivery, and both Doc and Victor on standby to oversee the proceedings, and yet still out of reach of all of it, is maddening and only serves to cause her tears to fall with greater regularity.
"Right then," Killian states, his voice clipped with the tension that always comes when he is forced to see her upset or in pain. He moves swiftly before she can protest to wrap his hook arm around her shoulders and his other arm beneath her knees, sweeping her off her feet into his arms, and already moving toward the hatch that leads below to the Captain's quarters. "Steady on your course, Mate," he calls to Henry. "Your mum needs to lie down, and I am taking her to do so."
Emma gapes at him now, nonplussed until she has to bury her face in his chest to muffle another cry aloud at the most vicious contraction yet. She wants to fight him, demand he put down her awkward bulk before he falls and hurts them both, but keeping a lid on her anxiety and breathing as she has been taught are taking nearly all of her focus and strength. Henry is no dunce; he has probably already figured out what's happening and worrying, she frets, eyes slipping closed for a minute as she simply tries to think straight.
Before she knows it, Killian is easing her down on the bunk they have shared every night they've ever spent together on his ship, gently brushing back wisps of hair gone sweaty with exertion from her forehead, before pulling back to give her an encouraging smile. "Don't worry, Swan. Henry will be fine. As will you and our impatient babe. I will fill him in and be back before you know it. Just hold on, aye?"
Emma nods, blinking back more tears at his understanding exactly what she needs – his knowing just what to do, just what to say, what will make a frightening situation alright again for her in only a few words. It is hard to believe that even a month ago, he was the one beside himself with worry, when now that he sees her in need he seems so steady and calm. Killian turns and disappears back up the ladder; a moment later, she can hear his quick steps crossing the deck overhead. There are a few minutes of silence following, and she senses then that he must be telling Henry what's really going on; that she is already in labor to bring his younger brother or sister into the world. What surprises her is that she soon feels the ship's movement stall, coming to a standstill other than the gentlest continued rocking of the waves around them.
It isn't long after that she hears two sets of footfalls pound across the boards above her, then the hatch opening to allow both her True Loves down to her; Killian dropping into the small room as agile as a cat while Henry clambers after him, eyes wide as he takes in her panting, aching form on the bed where Killian left her.
They take up positions, one on either side of her, and Killian kneels to her left, brushing his hook, the cool curve soothing, over her flushed cheek while offering her his good hand and raising the back of her palm to his lips when she takes it and laces their fingers together. "Don't worry, Love. Everything will be fine. We've dropped anchor so that the both of us are free to aid you, and all will be right – Whale or no."
Emma looks up into those mesmerizing blue eyes, feeling as though she should want to rail at him for getting her into this situation, want to squeeze the hand in hers until she breaks all his knuckles and he hurts as much as she does right now, and demand how he knows it will all work out. Yet that open gaze of wonder, admiration, and love he has fixed on her makes the only real emotion she can register one of gratitude that Killian is right there at her side with no intention of leaving her.
Henry rests his hand on her opposite shoulder then, as if just needing to touch and lend his mom what encouragement he can. His hand is strong, slightly calloused, and larger than she remembers it being; her boy is nearly a man, and it suddenly seems as though it has happened right before her eyes. She leans her head over to rest against his when Henry bows his forehead to meet hers, whispering a soft 'thank you' to her beautiful, amazing, and incredible son. He could begrudge her all of this, what with the mistakes she made and the way his own life had begun; he could have wanted no part of this new family dynamic and a younger sibling that she plans to raise from the very start. Instead, with true grace and empathy, Henry has welcomed this coming child as a second chance for all of them, just as he has always managed to understand that his mom had only wished him to have his best chance in life with every fiber of her battered young heart, and that was the only reason she had let him go those many years past.
"You've done this before, Mom," Henry reminds her now, managing to evoke at least a bit of a jesting tone in his delivery. "Plus, you're pretty much the strongest person I know. You've got this…well, we've got this."
"Aye, that we do, Darling," Killian agrees, slipping his arm behind her to tilt her forward, putting several pillows behind her to help prop her up somewhat, as if he somehow knows that she'd realized the time to push is close at hand.
Quickly, Henry heads to the galley for clean towels and hot water when Killian asks for them. While her son is gone, her husband helps her shed the outfit she had been wearing for their sailing venture and don instead a simple, lightweight shift, before placing a sheet over her bottom half and bent knees, as he has seen several times by now, both on television in her world and at the various other births they have borne witness to at this point. By the time Henry returns with the requested items, they have her settled once more and Killian is at her feet, coaxing her to breathe as Whale has had them practice and reminding her when to push as the time is fast approaching. "I am no Dr. Frankenstein, but I will do the best I can, Love. It would seem our littlest pirate is no longer willing to wait."
Emma huffs a short, nervous laugh between gasps for air and groans as she feels the pressure and stretching within her abdomen only heighten. "Honestly, Killian, I wouldn't mind an actual doctor's expertise, but I think I'd rather have you down there than him, if the truth be told."
Henry chooses that moment to break up the exchange before things grow any more awkward, and he comes back to her head, letting her lean against him and supporting her shoulders. Soon, it all blurs into her two loves' voices giving instructions and speaking encouragement, measured breaths, blinding pain, and pushing, until she feels she has no more strength left, not a single ounce of energy still within her body to give. Her surroundings and the passing minutes blend together hazily in increasing agony.
"Come on, Mom!" Henry urges at her ear, pleasing earnestly as he continues, "One more push! You're almost there!"
Tossing her head back and forth weakly, Emma senses her words more than actually hearing them as she tells him 'no', she can't, it's too much, there's nothing left.
Suddenly, Killian's voice snaps through the fog, breaking like lightning, a lifeline tossed into murky seas and towing her back to shore. "Emma! You must!" he demands, his voice, raw and urgent, but implacable, allowing no other choice. "I can see the crown of the head. Push, Lass! Now! Once more! You can do this!"
Calling on every reserve she can muster, clenching muscles she never even realized she had, Emma bears down once more, pushing, straining, until all at once the cord she has felt constricting her breaks, a force expels, and she falls back, drained, to the wailing cry of an infant.
Giddily, her hurt and exhaustion flip on their head into a dazed sort of euphoria. Her eyes roll to Henry, who is grinning down at the end of the bunk where Killian is cradling a squalling, red, and flailing newborn as he attempts to clear its airways and wipe clean the delicate, rosy skin.
"You did it, Mom! We made it!" Henry beams back at her, shifting and leaving her side for a moment to help Killian maneuver and settle the child, wrapping it in a spare sheet from a cupboard and settling her in the crook of his stepfather's blunted arm.
In just a few more moments, Killian is bringing the swaddled bundle of precious little girl to his wife and laying the crying child in her arms, where the little one promptly stills to mere sniffles, seemingly soothed by her mother's very touch. "We've a daughter, Swan," her pirate announces, already entranced and clearly wrapped around the wee infant's tiny fingers. His voice is hushed with blissful reverence as he looks on, watching their daughter's rosebud mouth purse and her eyes blink curiously up at them all, then staring at Emma in wonder, as if hardly daring to believe this has all just happened.
For a moment in the ship's cabin, the world slows and allows a frozen tableau of perfect delight. The gurgling little girl already sporting a head full of her papa's dark hair, her two enamored, drained, and enthralled parents, plus one proud big brother, all elated at the result of the last few hour's hurried proceedings.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~8888888888888888~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When, a month later, the newest heir to the throne of Misthaven and the Enchanted Forest is presented in court, Morgan Ruth Jones shows every bit of her mother's pluck and her father's mischievous charm when she reaches up to tug a curl of her grandmother Queen Snow White's hair as she rests in her arms, grinning toothlessly at the gathered assembly and winning all her future subjects over as easily as blinking her eyes. From where they stand to the side looking on, Emma threads her arm through Killian's and gazes up to see that his eyes are suspiciously misty. Reflecting on how their little miracle child has continued to surprise and delight them every day since that of her birth, is only another confirmation of how very blessed she is, after all the heartache that came before. If there were ever a fitting exclamation point to signal the conclusion of their story's start, and lead into the rest of the long-awaited fairy tale, it would be their daughter, without doubt. Henry himself could not have written a happier beginning.