Xanathusa shifted closer to the window of the bus, creating more space between herself and the snoring young man beside her. Mercifully, the teenage or twenty-something boy who had chosen the seat next to her when they'd boarded at South Station had immediately put on his headphones and fallen asleep.
She was in no mood to talk to anyone, and she was certainly too livid to be able to keep up the kind old lady persona that she had been cultivating for months in order to fool the Swan-Jones family.
No, now she felt every bit like the witch that she was. Her rage boiled just below the surface of her skin. She was on a bus, for Zeus' sake. An awkward, clumsy, metal contraption meant for common cattle, not a brilliant witch like her.
But she had miscalculated, and the fairies had double crossed her.
Her plan had worked. The little girl had stayed asleep long enough for the conduit to drain the rest of her magic. It had been successfully channeled across realms to the fairies' receptacle. Xanathusa had returned to the Dream Realm to meet the fairies, expecting their gratitude and her reward, her share of that most special magic.
Othrall had been polite and deferential to her, which should have been her first signal that something was amiss. He had given Xanathusa her share of the magic, placing it in the special box that she had provided him for the purpose. However, when Xanathusa attempted to leave the Dream Realm with it and return to her body, she could not. On attempting to cross over, she had felt a painful jolt and seen a flash of white light, and when she opened her eyes, she was still on the dream plane.
After a couple of attempts, she realized with dawning fury that she could only return to her body if she left the magic behind.
She argued with Othrall. She had successfully taken some magic out of the Dream Realm before. She had used it to repair the conduit and cast the spell on the pirate.
But Othrall only shrugged and snidely told her that this time, she must be trying to take too much. The borders of the Dream Realm wouldn't let her pull that much power into the land without magic. She would have to return to her physical body without it and find another way to the fairies' realm to claim her prize.
Xanathusa had seethed, and her orange eyes had flashed with rage, but she knew that it was pointless. She couldn't leave her body laying on a bed in a dingy apartment in Boston. She had to return to it and find another way back to her magic.
Gods help those fairies if they disappeared, or used all the magic for their own nefarious purposes before she got her share. She bristled at the thought, her anger humming through her blood.
So now, she was sitting on a bus heading up Interstate 95. She watched the trees go by in a blur as she plotted how she would open a portal once she got where she was going. She would also need to find a way to escape detection.
She had enemies in Storybrooke.
Killian met the building's superintendent in front of Mrs. Xavier's apartment. He had called the man and explained that Mrs. X had asked him to come over that morning to help her with a few odd jobs, but that she wasn't answering his knock. Killian claimed that he was worried that she might be ill or that she'd fallen and was unable to call for help.
The super, a gruff man in his sixties whose name was Patrick, didn't question Killian as he unlocked Mrs. X's door with one of his many keys.
Killian thanked him, and they walked into the apartment calling for Mrs. Xavier.
As soon as he set foot over the threshold, Killian knew that she was gone. He tried to hide his frustration from Patrick and simply asked if the super might have an alternative contact number for her. The man did not. The only number he had for the old woman was for the land line in the apartment.
Killian's stomach churned with a sick feeling of helpless frustration. He wanted to search every inch of that apartment to try to find out more about who or what "Mrs. X" was, but Patrick was not going to leave until Killian left with him. Reluctantly, Killian thanked Patrick and said he'd stop by again later to make sure that Mrs. X had gotten home okay.
When Patrick left the main entrance of the building, Killian slapped his hand on the wall of the lobby in frustration. What a fool he had been. There was no doubt in his mind that Mrs. X was behind Hope's nightmares and his own fall down the stairs. How long had he spent living in this building, being nice to this woman, all the while oblivious to the fact that she was a threat to the people he most needed to protect? He leaned his forehead against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting tears of frustration.
Eventually, all he could think to do was return to the hospital, but he hated the idea of facing Henry and Emma without any answers.
On impulse, he headed upstairs to his own apartment and went into his bedroom. He found the box on his bureau and took out the platinum wedding band. He placed it on his ring finger. There, that was better. That felt right.
He picked up and inspected the other pieces of jewelry. He put another ring, this one silver with a square black stone, on his index finger. Then he grabbed the long chain with the skull and sword charms. He sat on the bed and inspected the piece. Why had he bought this? Who had he been? Were all of his other memories, and the people in them, fake?
He thought of his parents. His sweet mother, gone too soon for him to remember much beyond her rust red hair, perpetually tied back in a long braid, and how she sang him to sleep at night. He pictured his swarthy father and the perpetually shifty, guilty expression that Brennan wore in the months before he left him and Liam.
Liam. As much as he was sure that he had a history with Emma, Hope, and Henry, he also knew that he'd had a brother named Liam Jones. He pictured a man with broad shoulders, hair that was lighter and curlier than Killian's, but with the same sparkling blue eyes. Picturing the man awakened in Killian feelings of admiration, loss, and shame. Maybe some of the details of his life had been altered, but his sense of his brother was immutable. Liam had been real. He knew it.
"Bloody hell," he muttered to himself, rubbing his face with his hand. He had no idea how to separate the truth of his life from the falsehoods, and frustration threatened to overtake him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
He thought about Henry. The boy had shown such energy and enthusiasm during their conversation in the hospital cafeteria. He was only seventeen years old, and these revelations threatened to upend everything that he knew, but still he pressed on, seeking the truth. What kind of special faith and bravery did that take? How had Henry's intelligence and belief shaped Killian's life in all the unremembered time they had known each other?
He remembered seeing Hope for the first time, or the first time that he could remember, outside of Emma's apartment. How her sweet, innocent forthrightness had enchanted him. She had trusted him immediately, and that just didn't happen. Killian Jones was trouble, and most people saw that from miles away and kept their distance. Not Hope, though. She had been open to him from the start. There was something about her, something untouchable that even magic or brainwashing or whatever this was couldn't taint. In those moments between sleep and waking, she'd figured out the truth and called him "Daddy" while the rest of them stumbled about in ignorance. On some level, he understood that she had power, that she'd be a target, even if he couldn't put a name to why.
And then there was Emma, his wife. His breath caught even as he thought the words. What in all the worlds could he have done to ever deserve her? Even though his memories of his past were muddled, he still felt in his gut that there was truth to the history he'd shared with her that night in his apartment. He'd lost Liam, and he'd been weak and fallen into darkness. Had Emma been the one to pull him out of it, and if she had, why? What light had she seen in him?
He pictured her in his mind. The way she powered through each day, hair flying, eyes flashing, oblivious to her own needs and injuries but completely attuned to those of her children. The way she had tended to him when he was hurt. The way she looked at him with that mix of skepticism and hope that was uniquely Emma's. He must have proven himself somehow, earned her trust completely, or he wouldn't have this platinum band that somehow he just knew that she had placed on his finger during a rooftop ceremony at sunset.
For all eternity.
The memory of a promise flashed in his mind. He wanted so badly to remember all of it, every detail of their lives together, good and bad. But the true memories seemed to dance at the outskirts of his conscious mind, teasing and taunting him, just out of reach. The false recollections that cluttered his brain still served as too much of a barrier. But there had to be a way. Somehow, he knew that when they found the truth and remembered who they were, whatever scourge had befallen Hope would be defeated. She would wake up, and she would remember too.
He believed it.
The house was dark, and Hope was scared. She was still curled up by the cold fireplace, huddled under her blanket. She had flipped through the same book ten times and was now bored with it. She really wanted to go upstairs to her room and select one of the many books from the white shelves in her room. But upstairs was dark, and even if she stood on her tippy-toes to reach all the light switches, she wasn't sure that in this dream world, the lights would even come on. So she stayed in one place, silently being mad at herself for being a scaredy-cat.
It kept getting darker, and she was getting tired.
Henry walked into Hope's room somehow balancing a styrofoam to-go container and a paper coffee cup in one arm while his other hand clutched the ribbons of three brightly colored and shiny mylar balloons adorned with the likenesses of Dora the Explorer, Chase from Paw Patrol, and Minnie Mouse.
"Wow, Kid" Emma said, jumping up to take the food and the cup of hot chocolate. "Pretty impressive that you made it all the way up here without an all out pratfall."
"Thanks," he replied, and set about tying the balloons to a chair right where Hope would be able to see them when she woke up.
Emma set down the food and hot chocolate and glanced at the door.
"What happened to Killian?" she asked.
"Uh, he had to run an errand," Henry replied.
Emma sighed and rolled her eyes. Henry didn't withhold the truth from her very often, but his skill at doing so had certainly improved as he'd gotten older. This time, however, she spotted the deception easily.
"Okay," Emma said, deciding to bide her time to see if she could figure out what her son and her neighbor-slash-friend-slash-possibly the father of her younger child were up to. "Did he say what it was?
Henry shook his head and didn't meet her eyes. "I think it was a work thing. He was going to take a cab over there and then come right back. He said to call him if anything changed with Hope."
Emma nodded slowly and watched him, trying to gauge whether she should push for more information. It didn't feel right that Killian would leave. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off of Hope the whole time he'd been here. She couldn't imagine that he'd chosen to leave the hospital just for a work errand.
Killian and her son were up to something. Emma realized with a start that it may have been related to Killian's theories that he had shared with her the night before, that someone had tampered with his memories. Henry had always been prone to flights of fancy and the desire to believe in stories and magic. Had Killian managed to suck her boy into his fantasies?
But Emma checked herself at that thought. Were they just fantasies? Had she not just experienced the feeling of being in Hope's dream with Killian last night? Had she not heard her little girl screaming for Mommy and Daddy in the dream? She hadn't questioned it then. She had simply known it to be true.
Instead of pressing Henry further, she decided to let it drop. She remembered her decision to trust her gut when it came to Killian, and right now, her gut was telling her that he was off doing something to try to help them.
She hoped that he would be careful. She couldn't believe it, but she was even more worried than she was before . Apparently, when it came to the people you loved, your capacity for fear was infinite.
Henry opened his laptop and worked on it quietly. Emma kept her vigil next to Hope, and as the hours passed, she continued to chat to her about whatever thought popped into her head. Hope remained peaceful, and her expression never changed.
It was early afternoon when Emma's phone rang. She grabbed it off the tray by Hope's bed and was shocked to see that the caller ID showed the Maine number from which David Nolan had called the day before.
Giving Hope's hand a goodbye squeeze and glancing at Henry, she excused herself from the room and stepped out in the hallway to take the call.
"Hello?" she answered curtly.
"Emma?" The man's voice on the other end was awestruck, like he couldn't believe he was talking to the Emma Swan. She'd be lying if it she said it didn't touch her a little.
"Yeah, this is Emma," she said firmly. "Why are you calling again?"
She heard him take a breath and gather himself. "So you got my message yesterday?"
"Yep," Emma replied impatiently. "You're David Nolan. Supposedly we know each other even though I don't remember. Oh, and we're in danger." She paused, her rage was building, but she didn't care. "Who are you, really? Why would call me and tell me this bullshit? I tried to track you down, you know. Made up town. Phone that must be a burner. What the hell is your angle? Extortion? I don't have any money."
"Emma, I don't want anything from you except for you and your family to be safe," Nolan replied calmly. He was good at the sincerity bit; she had to give him credit for that. She waited for more.
"Look, Emma," Nolan continued. "I know that what I'm about to say is going to sound crazy to you, but please just give me a chance to explain. You live in a town called Storybrooke, Maine. It's a unique town, and there are reasons why it's not on any map. You're actually the sheriff here. Your husband is a man named Killian Jones, and the two of you have a daughter named Hope. Henry's father's name was Neal, but he died years ago. Someone has driven you out of Storybrooke and taken your memories because they want to take something from Hope. It's hard for me to explain, but she is special. She has...power. Someone wants that power, and they may be using dream manipulation to get it."
"How can you expect me to believe any of this?" Emma whispered. She was stunned, not just by the craziness of David Nolan's explanation, but because on some level, all of it felt true.
"Emma," he went on. "I know that you probably feel like you've been alone your whole life; that you've been let down by people that should have been there for you. And that feeling is real. Life's been unfair to you, and you've had to be a fighter since you were a young child. I'm sorry for that. But I want you to know, that for the past seven years, you haven't been alone. You found your family, and you made your own. Believing that right now, believing in that, might be the key to helping Hope."
Emma couldn't speak. This man sounded so sincere. Her internal lie detector screamed at her that he was telling the truth. She sighed, fighting tears, and glanced back through the doorway into Hope's room.
"She's asleep," she said thickly. "She won't wake up. We brought her to the hospital, but the doctors...well, they have no idea what the hell is wrong with her."
"Oh, Emma," he replied, suddenly sounding near tears himself.
"Look, I don't know you, but you say you want to help me, so do it. If you know something, anything about what's wrong with my daughter, please tell me!" She was crying now, and she was pissed at the situation for making her so desperate that she'd be on the phone pleading with a stranger. She sniffed and looked at the ceiling, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her left hand and willing the tears away.
As she gathered herself, one of the nurses walked past her into Hope's room, giving Emma a nod and mouthing "checking vitals." Emma tried to muster a smile and nodded back. She supposed that it wasn't that weird for the mom of an unconscious child to be on the phone crying. The nurse had thought nothing of it, even though with the conversation she was having, Emma felt like she was trapped in an episode of "The Twilight Zone."
After a pause and a long sigh, David finally answered her. "This won't make sense to you right now, but the only thing that might help her is, well, a kiss."
Emma snorted. She felt a maniacal laugh bubble up in her throat, but she quelled it because Nolan still sounded so genuine.
Instead she said, "So, I'm supposed to just kiss her and make it better? Thanks for the tip, buddy. I've kissed her a hundred times since she's been in here. More."
He sputtered, "I know, I'm sorry for how this sounds. But it has to be, well, it has to be an act of true love and the purest belief. I'm not sure, because you already know she's your daughter, and you're so entrenched in this reality. It must not work from you..."
Emma was listening to him, trying to understand, when she saw one of Hope's doctors, Dr. Wallace she thought, a balding man in his early fifties who always seemed bored, walking towards the room at a more-brisk-than-normal pace. He stopped outside Hope's door and gestured for to Emma to join him.
"I have to go..." she said absently to Nolan, and hung up, cutting him off as he was trying to blurt out more about true love and kisses. Emma entered the room and stood beside Hope's bed. She tried to tell herself that her little girl didn't look paler than before.
On the other side of the bed, Dr. Wallace conferred briefly with the nurse who had checked Hope's vitals. Then he turned to Emma. Henry closed his laptop and stood to listen. He walked over to Emma and placed his arm around her back.
"So," the doctor said drily, "unfortunately, Hope's vitals are continuing to deteriorate. Her blood pressure, pulse, and the amount of oxygen in her blood have all dropped in the past couple of hours. I'm going to order another round of tests, including a full CT scan to make sure we haven't missed anything. We'll also need to do a spinal tap."
Emma placed her hand protectively on Hope's arm. She knew her little girl was unconscious, but she still hated the idea of having them stick a giant needle into her spine.
She pressed the doctor further on what they would be looking for with those tests, and he rattled off a bunch of terrifying-sounding diagnoses. Finally, he looked at Emma solemnly and said that, if Hope's vitals continued to drop, she would need to be intubated and put on a ventilator.
Emma couldn't help but conjure in her mind the image of a doctor sticking a tube down Hope's throat. A wave of horror washed over her as she thought of her vibrant little girl lying there, lifeless, hooked up to machines that were breathing for her.
How in the goddamn fucking hell had this happened? For Henry's sake, she choked back the sobs that threatened to overtake her and nodded at the doctor.
Dr. Wallace and the nurse left, promising that someone would be back soon to take Hope for her tests. Emma nodded numbly. She was shaking and felt sick to her stomach.
"Mom," Henry said. "It's going to be okay. She's going to wake up."
"I know, Kid," Emma said, clinging desperately to his optimism. Then she added, her voice cracking, "If you have any creative ideas on how to wake her up now, I'm listening."
Henry furrowed his brow, and she was sorry she'd said it. Keeping hold of Hope's cool little left hand, Emma wrapped Henry into an embrace. She felt the boy let out a shaky sigh. Then he stepped back suddenly.
"Killian," he said, and Emma noticed the note of excitement in his voice. What did Henry know? Could Killian help in some way?
She released Henry and turned to the door to look at Killian. Any flicker of hope she'd felt at his arrival disappeared when she saw his face. It was drawn and sad, and his eyes were rimmed with red.
"So no change then," he asked quietly, stepping just inside the door.
Emma shook her head. "No. No, actually, she's getting worse." Her voice was raw, and the last word came out as a croak. She added, "They might have to put her on a ventilator."
Killian closed his eyes for a moment at that. He looked devastated. He walked over to the bed, and Emma took a step down toward the foot of it so that he could be by Hope's head. He reached out with his hand and stroked her hair. "I'm so very sorry, little love," he said sadly.
"So she didn't tell you anything?" Henry asked suddenly.
Killian glanced guiltily at Emma and then shook his head. "She was gone. There was no sign of her in her apartment," he said.
"Who's gone?" Emma asked. "What are you two up to?"
Killian sighed. "Emma, I don't want to upset you or make you think that I've influenced Henry towards believing in crazy theories, but we both have reason to believe that Mrs. Xavier is not who she claims to be, and that she is responsible for Hope's condition."
Emma suddenly felt like crying again. She rubbed her eyes with her hands and took a deep breath. Having regained some calm, she removed her hands and looked from Killian to Henry. "You guys," she said. "I know this is awful, and that we don't know what is wrong with Hope, but how in the world could the weird old lady downstairs be responsible?"
"I think she's a witch," Henry said boldly. "The butterfly jar she gave Hope is cursed, or something, and it was giving Hope nightmares. She only had the dreams when it was in the same room with her. And last night, Mom, it was glowing! You believed me. You threw it across the room!"
Emma winced. She remembered the night before and the terror she'd felt. There had been a weird energy in her room, something dark and sinister, and for an instant, she'd believed it had been emanating from the butterfly.
Before she could respond, Killian chimed in. "Emma, she did something to me before I fell. Something to make sure that I would be dizzy and disoriented. I'm sure of it. And now she's gone. I went to her apartment, and she's not there."
Emma tried to hold onto rationality, but it was tough. "She could be at the freakin' beauty salon!" she cried.
Killian turned away from Hope to look at Emma and Henry. He shook his head and gently touched Emma's arm. "Emma please," he said. "I believe that she fled because she got what she needed. Swan, I think that there's more to this. There are too many coincidences. Something very strange has happened to Hope, to all of us."
Emma searched his eyes, certain she would find the lie this time or proof that he was crazy. But in that sea of brilliant, tear-shined blue she saw only Killian. Sincere, passionate, and good Killian. She wanted to believe him, but it was too much. What was she supposed to think?
"Mom," Henry said from behind her. He brought his laptop to the rolling tray table at the foot of Hope's bed and opened it.
She looked and listened as intently as she could, struggling to understand Henry's story about the boy at the New York Public Library who believed in magic. She leaned down and squinted at the four-year-old Facebook posts on the screen. It was Henry in the picture, right? It looked just like him. But they hadn't gone to New York the year the photos were taken. And the other picture was clearly Killian and...her.
She stared at it, trying to make it make sense, then she looked up at Killian. He just smiled slightly and nodded, and she knew that he was willing her to believe. To understand something important.
She stood up straight and reached out to steady herself on the side of Hope's bed. On her right, Killian reached out and gently placed his hook on the small of her back to help steady her.
"That can't be real," she breathed, finally. She wasn't looking at either of the men as she said it.
Emma's rational mind and her natural cynicism were screaming in her head. The pictures were photoshopped, the voices said. You can't trust Killian, or David Nolan. People let you down, they always have. Don't believe that anything special, anything miraculous can happen to you. You'll only be disappointed.
But when she looked at Hope's face, even as the disbelieving voices echoed in her head, she wondered what it would mean if all the things that those pictures conveyed were true.
Their memories had been altered.
They had known Killian for years.
He could really be Hope's father.
Magic was real.
Something magical was keeping Hope asleep.
She looked away from Hope and over to Killian. "Even if I did believe that all this was true," she said quietly, "where does that get us? You think Mrs. X is to blame, but she's gone, right?"
"Aye, it appears so."
Emma thought a moment; her mind was buzzing with conflict and stress. "I could call in a silver alert. Say we have a missing senior who might be disoriented. She might be spotted and picked up. But I just don't think Hope has that kind of time." She pushed her hands through her hair. She felt like tearing it out.
The doctors couldn't help them. She knew it in her gut. Now they had a crazy theory contingent on finding an old lady that might be a witch.
She looked at Killian, and saw him again looking worriedly at Hope. "No, I don't believe that we do," he said softly.
Emma stepped closer to him so that they were standing shoulder to shoulder, looking at Hope. He stroked the little girl's hair. Emma realized in that moment, that if she was sure of anything at all, she was sure that Killian Jones loved Hope.
Emma gently took her daughter's hand. She tried, once and for all, to shut out her rational mind and just feel what the right answer was.
"An act of true love," she said suddenly.
Killian and Henry both looked at her sharply. She shook her head, as if clearing the cobwebs. "Before the doctor came in, David Nolan called again and said that he might know how to help Hope. That she needed something..." She struggled to recall his exact words. "Belief, he said. An act of true love." She rolled her eyes a little at the last part, even as they filled with tears again.
Killian and Henry were still staring at her.
Then Henry nodded slowly. "It's like in a story or a movie," he said. "An act of true love can break any curse. Can that be real?"
Without thinking, Emma turned to Killian and looked him in the eyes. "You," she said, praying that he would somehow know what she meant.
He looked scared, sad, and desperate. "Me?" he began, "I don't know what I can—''
"Killian, do you believe that Hope is your daughter?" she interrupted.
"Swan," he replied with a pleading note. He was hesitating, and she knew it was because he remembered their conversation from the night before. She'd rejected his theories, hadn't believed him when he said that his memories had been altered. She'd pushed him away, and now he was afraid to be honest again.
So she turned toward him fully and placed her hands on either side of his face.
"Killian, please tell me the truth. I promise that I will believe you this time."
He nodded, and she took a ragged breath before continuing. "Do you believe that Hope is your daughter? That, somehow...I'm your wife?" She was about to cry, and she barely got the last three words out.
She watched his eyes fill with tears. One slipped out and slid down his cheek over the scar he wore there. She gently brushed it away with her thumb. "It's okay," she whispered.
In that instant, as if they had some magical synchronicity, they both leaned forward slightly, just enough so that their foreheads touched. Emma closed her eyes and allowed herself to revel in the sensation of such honest, intimate contact with him. She inhaled, breathing in the unique sea air scent of his skin. This felt right. It felt so familiar.
When he pulled back, she opened her eyes to meet his and found hope and bravery there. She smiled a little and nodded, reassuring him one last time that it was okay to tell the truth.
"I do believe that, Swan. I believe all of it," he whispered.
"Good," she replied. He smiled a little at that.
Emma glanced behind her at Henry and gave him as much of a smile as she could. He was watching them with wonder, and with hope. Emma turned back to look at her daughter. She reached down and took the little girl's lifeless hand once again. She nodded slightly towards Hope and said to Killian, "Now tell our little girl."
Killian still looked a little dazed and awestruck that this was really happening. But she saw his expression shift to one of resolve as he turned from her to look at Hope's sweet little sleeping face. He leaned close to the girl and once again gently stroked her hair.
Emma reached down with her free hand and took hold of his hook, offering support. Henry leaned in close to her, and she let go of Hope to reach around him with her left arm and pull him close.
Now they were all connected.
Killian took a deep breath before he spoke. "Little lass," he began. "My darling Hope, I am so very proud of you. You are the strongest, bravest person I've ever met, and also the smartest. None of us could see the truth but you. You knew it all along. You were right, little love. I am your daddy." His voice broke, and he paused, squeezing his eyes shut. Emma watched his chest and shoulders shake. Tears were streaming down her own face, and her heart was breaking. But she believed in this. This was going to work.
Killian took another deep breath and regained his voice. "We all believe it, love. We know that we belong together. But we can't be together, not really, unless you're awake. Please come back to us."
He glanced back at Emma and Henry. Emma tightened her grip on both of them and nodded through her tears, silently telling him that he was doing amazing. Perfect.
He smiled slightly and looked down at Hope again. There was such adoration in his gaze. "You are going to lead a brilliant, spectacular life, love. You will slay every dragon you meet, just like your mum. And we'll all be here to cheer you on. But you have to wake up. Come back to me. I love you, Hope."
He leaned down and gently kissed Hope's forehead.
There was a sudden flash of light, and a shockwave emanated from the bed. Emma closed her eyes reflexively and felt her hair fly back from the force. She tightened her grip on Henry who was unsteady on his feet beside her.
Her mind flooded with memories. It all came rushing back in an instant, so fast that she only had impressions, flashes. Her life. Storybrooke. Her family.
Lingering a bit longer, but still only a second or two, were two memories.
The first, was of her in a hospital bed, handcuffed to the sides of it. The doctor had given her one last chance, but she had turned away, crying that she couldn't be a mother. She hadn't looked at her son.
It wasn't the first time she had been deceived into believing that she had raised Henry instead of giving him up. In that instant, she knew that the pain of the true memory would be just as great as it was the first time it returned to her years ago in New York. She could handle it though. She and Henry had overcome all of that.
In the second memory that stood out, she was in a different hospital bed. This time there were no handcuffs, and Killian was next to her, his expression awestruck. A nurse was handing Emma a small bundle in a pink, white and blue blanket. She gently cradled her newborn daughter and looked down to see her tiny, perfect scrunched up face. And even though the baby's eyes squinted at the light, Emma could see that they were ocean blue. But when she tearfully looked up to her husband's matching set of blue eyes, she saw that they were full of fear...
The flood of memories stopped. When Emma opened her eyes, she saw that Killian was crying openly now. Only this time, they were tears of joy, because Hope had opened her eyes. The little girl blinked, and slowly smiled. She reached up for her father and threw her tiny arms around his neck. He leaned down and gently embraced her in return.
At the sight, Emma let out a laugh that was partly a sob. Keeping his face nuzzled into the pillow by Hope's head, Killian raised his left arm and pulled Emma into the hug so that the three of them were hugging and crying together. Henry scurried around to the other side of the bed, and Hope released her parents so that she could throw her arms around her brother.
Emma stood up straight and laughed openly through her tears as she watched her children embrace, whispering "I knew you could do it" to each other as they hugged. Keeping her left hand on her daughter, Emma grabbed her husband by the shoulder and turned him to face her.
His tear stained face was exhausted, but happily awestruck.
"You, Killian," she said, standing on her tiptoes slightly to look him in the eye. "You did this."
Despite his fatigue and the overwhelming emotions, he managed to raise a cocky eyebrow at her. "Did you ever doubt me, love?"
She shook her head as she wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him into a hard kiss, their lips crashing into each other at first, but then fitting together like always. The kiss softened and she felt him grin into it. They were home.
"Gross, guys," Henry teased. He was standing again, gripping Hope's hand. They were both staring at Emma and Killian and grinning.
Killian returned their wide grins, and Emma rolled her eyes. She stepped in front of her husband slightly and went into full "mom" mode with Hope. Despite the machines monitoring the little girl, Emma knew now that she'd be able to determine her daughter's health with a look, a touch, and some questions.
The curse was broken. She was awake. They remembered.
They'd done it.
Emma frowned as she felt Hope's forehead and took the little girl's face in her hands.
"How do you feel, sweetheart?"
"Good, mom. Not sick," was Hope's brave reply. But Emma didn't miss the quiver in the girl's little lip.
Killian's hand was on Emma's hip, and she felt him tense just slightly as he came to the same realization that she had.
"But your magic..." Emma began.
"Yeah," Hope replied sadly. "I think it's all gone."
The next two hours passed in a blur. Emma dealt with the doctors and their questions. They were cautiously optimistic about Hope, but they still wanted to run more tests to pinpoint a cause of her prior unconsciousness. Emma tried to keep her cool as she explained to them that she knew that Hope was fine, that nothing was medically wrong with her.
Dr. Li returned shortly after Hope woke up and took Emma's side with the other doctors, asserting to them that Hope's condition could have been anxiety-related, not physical, and that she would follow up with the family immediately after the child's release.
When the other doctors relented and agreed to let Hope be discharged, Killian ran to the bed to high-five Hope, while Emma thanked Dr. Li.
"Trust me," the psychologist said, "You don't want them deciding they still want a spinal tap." She rolled her eyes, and before she left, she promised to have her receptionist call Emma to make an appointment for the next day, Wednesday, or Thursday. Emma grimaced a little with guilt as she realized that by then, they'd be long gone.
After he'd greeted Hope, Henry had immediately gone out into the hall to call Regina. Emma could imagine how elated the woman must have been to hear from Henry, and she was struck with a wave of guilt at having kept him away for so long. It had been Regina's idea for them to leave, though, she remembered. Hopefully, Henry's safe return would be enough to quash any lingering resentment the mayor might have about her son's long absence.
In between meeting with doctors, Emma had called David. When she told him that she remembered everything and that Hope was awake, he whooped with joy, and Emma couldn't suppress her own happy tears at hearing her father so delighted. David's celebration brought Emma's mother to the phone as well. Emma couldn't keep the goofy grin off of her face as she spoke to them. As hard as it had been to remember that she hadn't in fact raised Henry from birth, it sure was nice to recall that, like Henry had found her, she had found her parents too. Remembering that they adored her and were a huge part of her life filled Emma's heart with joy.
David and Snow updated Emma on what they had learned about the witch, Xanathusa. When Emma told them that she appeared to have fled Boston with Hope's magic, her parents assured her that they would know the instant she set foot in Storybrooke, and that Regina and Zelena were prepared to capture her.
For his part, Killian stayed by Hope's side. He climbed into her hospital bed so that they could cuddle, and he let Hope hold the TV remote so that she could flip through the channels. When she finally gave up on finding something interesting, Killian turned off the TV and pulled her back against his shoulder. Emma watched with a smile as Hope snuggled into him, and he leaned down to kiss the top of her golden head.
Henry had gone off to the cafeteria to find something that might pass for both lunch and dinner. The doctors had left them alone, promising that someone would return soon with the release paperwork. So Emma sighed tiredly and sat down in the chair next to Hope's bed, on the opposite side from which Killian rested. His right arm was wrapped around the little girl, and Emma took his hand, twining their fingers together. He looked down at her with that adoring, just slightly saucy look that he saved only for her. Emma took Hope's little right hand with her other hand, and the family sat quietly for a few moments.
Emma watched Hope's face carefully, afraid that the girl might nod off to sleep. She knew that the curse was broken, but she didn't think she was ready to face the fear of Hope falling asleep again. But something in the girl's expression made Emma realize that she wasn't sleepy, she was thinking.
"What is it, sweetie?" Emma asked her.
Hope shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "Just thinkin' about my magic."
Emma felt Killian tighten his embrace around their daughter.
Emma tried to keep her tone nonchalant when she responded. Nothing caused a child to clam up faster about an uncomfortable subject than obvious, excessive interest from her parents. "Oh yeah?" she said. "What about it."
Hope again shrugged charmingly, but her tone was sad. "Just, I don't know. Where it went. Am I gonna get it back. It feels kind of weird now."
Emma exchanged a worried glance with Killian. She sighed before replying. "I know, sweetheart. I lost my magic once too, or I thought I did. Maybe it wasn't really gone." She looked quickly at Killian again, remembering the feel of her knees on the cold, hard ground as she knelt beside his lifeless body. The sensation of her warm lips touching his ice cold ones that were already turning blue. She had breathed life back into him.
"But it felt weird," Emma continued. "Even though I hadn't known for very long that I even had magic, I still kind of missed it. It's okay to miss yours too. But we're going to get it back."
Hope nodded, but she looked unsure.
"Don't worry, darling," Killian added, addressing Hope. "In the meantime, you still have other qualities that are even more important than your magic. You're still smart, and strong, and brave, just like Mommy. In fact, your mother and I went on one of our greatest adventures during the time she thought she had lost her magic. It didn't slow her down. She still saved us." He winked at Emma, and she grinned back at him.
Hope sighed. "Okay, I guess that's true," Hope conceded, and her parents chuckled.
It was after five when a resident finally returned with discharge paperwork. Emma nodded as the young doctor walked her through it, and she agreed to watch for any warning signs of further illness in Hope.
Killian and Emma had gotten Hope dressed, and while Emma spoke with the doctor, she bounced around the room happily with her balloons. There was very little space, but it didn't stop her from taking a few steps and leaping up in the air, hoping that the balloons would carry her up to the ceiling. Killian kept reminding her to be careful not to bump into the furniture, but Emma saw that he couldn't keep the smile of his face.
Even the resident seemed to be working to try to suppress a smirk at the little girl's efforts.
Once the doctor left, Emma put in another call to David as Killian, Henry, and Hope gathered their stuff in preparation to leave.
According to David, there had been no sign of the witch yet that evening, but he assured Emma that they were ready for her. As usual, she couldn't help but believe him.
They agreed that given that neither Emma nor Killian had slept much the night before, they would stay in Boston that night and head back to Storybrooke very early in the morning. David assured her that they had it covered on their end. They would know the minute Xanathusa entered Storybrooke. He told her that he loved her, and to kiss Hope and Henry for him. "And Killian?" Emma couldn't help but tease, glancing at her husband, who cocked a questioning eyebrow at her.
She could almost hear David grinning on the other end of the line. "How about a nice hearty pat on the back?" he replied with a chuckle.
After she hung up, Emma felt a little torn. She wanted to be there to confront the witch herself, but she also knew how exhausted her family was after their ordeal. Regina and Zelena were better equipped to trap the witch.
Still, Emma couldn't wait to confront her.
They left the hospital clustered together. Hope had insisted on holding her balloons, so Henry had wisely tied them around her wrist so that they wouldn't float away into the evening sky the moment his sister relaxed her grip on the ribbons.
Killian carried Hope through the long hallways and out to the parking lot. Emma worried that he was overdoing it given his injuries, but she also knew that there was no point in offering to take their girl from him. As they walked, Emma kept her hand on Killian's arm. After their time spent as strangers, she felt an almost magnetic pull towards him and loathed to go more than a few minutes without physical contact. She had a similar impulse with Hope. She kept getting in the poor little girl's face, peering into her eyes and checking her temperature with the back of her hand until finally Hope said "I'm okay, Mom!" with an exasperated sigh.
They reached the car, strapped Hope into her carseat, and loaded up their stuff. Emma felt herself exhale with relief as they pulled out of the hospital parking lot. Killian must have noticed too, because he gently placed his hook on her leg and gave her an empathetic smile.
As they turned onto the Riverway heading home, Emma suggested that they stop to pick up a late dinner, since only Henry had managed to eat that afternoon at the hospital.
"What does everyone feel like?" Emma asked her family.
"Ummm...cupcakes!" Hope cried.
Emma couldn't suppress a snort of laughter. That was her girl.
Killian turned to the backseat and raised an eyebrow at Hope. "Love, we need to eat something at little bit healthy for supper."
"Hmm," Hope replied thoughtfully. "How about we just take the good stuff out of the healthy food and put it in the cupcakes!"
They all laughed, and Emma agreed that would be nice. In the end, she double parked on Beacon Street, and Killian and Henry ran into the shawarma place to pick up take out. She knew that, at the very least, Hope would eat some of the homemade hummus and pita.
If she found herself pulling into a nearby Star Market a few minutes later so that Killian could pop into the bakery for a package of cupcakes, well, they all deserved a little celebration.
When they got back to the apartment, the first thing that Emma did was head to her bedroom and pick up the butterfly jar. It was broken once again due to Emma's rough treatment from the night before. Just to be sure, she placed it back on the floor and stomped on it with her boot, cracking the plastic jar into pieces. She picked it up, pulled out the silken butterfly, and roughly plucked off its wings.
When she trudged back through the apartment and went out the door on her way to take the offending item to the trash chute at the end of the hallway, none of the others questioned her.
Their euphoria at being back together, really together, with all of their memories in tact, continued to counteract their exhaustion as they sat down to dinner. Killian told silly, G-rated stories about the crazy doctor that had once travelled as part of his crew on the Jolly Roger. Apparently, the man's favorite treatment for any illness or injury was simply to hit the afflicted part of the body with a mallet, the logic being that the blow would knock that part back into working order. Hope spit out her milk with giggles as Killian imitated Mr. Smee being knocked unconscious by the man as treatment for a minor bump on he'd sustained on his head.
Emma was still worried about how they would get Hope's magic back, but she put her fear aside and was able to enjoy the moment. She continued to reach for Killian whenever she had the chance, clasping his arm or his hand during the few moments when neither of them were occupied with eating or helping Hope.
After dinner, Henry cleaned up the dishes. Emma was desperate to wash all the hospital germs off of Hope, so she and Killian gave their little girl a bath. They were cramped kneeling on the floor in the apartment's tiny bathroom. They had much more space in their master bathroom back at home. Still, to Emma it felt wonderfully routine and normal. She knew from experience that they would be living with dual memories for a while, but that eventually the false ones would fade so much that they would only seem like particularly vivid dreams.
When they pulled Hope out of the tub, Killian wrapped her in a big fluffy towel to dry her off. He gave her a hug and a kiss, and handed her over to Emma, who began to brush the tangles out of Hope's wet hair. Emma told Killian to go across the hall to his apartment to change and gather what he needed for the night that he would spend with them at Emma's place.
"As you wish," he replied with a smile and a slight raise of that bloody eyebrow, and she grinned back at him.
As Emma got Hope changed into her favorite pajamas, she saw the girl yawn deeply. Emma smiled and kissed her daughter's forehead. "Bedtime soon, sweetheart," she said.
Killian had only been gone for about five minutes before there was a knock on the door. Emma sent Henry and Hope off to brush their teeth and went to answer it.
"You know, you don't have to knock," she told Killian with a smile and a roll of her eyes when she saw that it had been him who had knocked.
He stepped inside and placed his duffle bag down on the floor. "Aye, I suppose," he replied. "But it seemed good form." He scratched behind his ear nervously. He was in his stocking feet and wearing sleep pants and a T-shirt. She could tell he felt awkward.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him farther into the apartment. Then she stood up on her toes and kissed him lightly. He returned the kiss, his lips opening just slightly to capture her bottom one, and she felt his chest hitch with emotion. But he pulled back, glancing nervously down the hallway toward the bedrooms as if he was worried that the kids would appear and catch them.
"It's weird, isn't it?" Emma said after they parted. "Having the the two sets of memories. You've never experienced that before."
"Aye. Of course I know that we've been together for years," he replied. "But I have the memories of the man who just met you all. I still feel honored just to be invited into your home."
She squeezed his hand tightly. "You belong here, silly!" she told him happily. "You're home is with us, wherever we are. The fake memories will fade, I promise." She searched his eyes, trying to make sure that he understood. That he could relax because he was home.
He satisfied her with a small smile and nod, and she squeezed his hand. "Now come help me put Hope to bed," she said. "We have to get up and out early tomorrow."
They found Hope and Henry in their room, and Emma quizzed them about the thoroughness of their teeth-brushing. Henry rolled his eyes at that and assured her that they'd both brushed and flossed.
Hope walked over to Killian, who stood in the bedroom's doorway, and took his hand. "Can I sleep with you guys tonight?" she asked him. After only a quick glance at Emma to confirm that was indeed the plan, he replied, "Aye, love, of course. I'm not letting you out of my sight again. Come on along." He scooped her up into his arms like she weighed nothing, and she flung her arms around his neck. "Goodnight, lad," Killian told Henry. "Thank you. Thanks for everything. Today and always."
Henry smiled and nodded. "Goodnight, Killian," he replied. "See you bright and early."
Killian and Hope departed for Emma's room, and Emma appraised her son. "You're pretty amazing, you know?" she told him. "You and your stepdad figured everything out before I did."
"Well, you kind of had your hands full," Henry replied with a smirk.
"Still, that was some A-plus research you did. You helped us find our way back. Thank you."
Henry shrugged, and he looked embarrassed but pleased. "What time should I set my alarm for?" he asked.
Emma sighed. "Early," she replied. "Maybe five?" She groaned even as she suggested it, but Henry was unfazed.
"Okay, cool," he said. "We'll get that witch, Mom. My mom and Zelena will find her, just like Grandpa said. We'll get Hope's magic back."
"I know, Kid. I do. Goodnight."
She gave him a quick hug and headed to her room.
She found, as she had once before in this apartment and many, many other times in their home, Killian cuddling with Hope and singing her to sleep.
You say you'll give me a highway with no one on it
A treasure just to look upon it
All the riches in the night
You say you'll give me eyes in a world of blindness
A river in a time of dryness
A harbor in the tempest
And all the promises we made
From the cradle to the grave
When all I want is you
God, his voice, she thought. It wasn't enough that her husband was smart, funny, and handsome as hell, but some deity had also seen fit to give him the voice of an angel. No wonder Hope had asked for this tonight instead of a story.
Emma climbed onto her side of the bed and snuggled up against Hope's left side. She closed her eyes and just listened to the rest of the song. When it was over, she opened one eye and peeked at Hope to see if she was asleep yet. She found that the girl also had one eye open and was peeking back at Emma. "Goodnight, Mom and Dad," she whispered.
"Goodnight, baby," Emma replied.
Hope closed her eyes and nestled into the pillow. Killian, laying on his left side, closed his eyes and nuzzled the girl's hair, seeming to just want to breathe her in now that she was back where she belonged. He reached his hand across their daughter's tiny body and took Emma's hand, stroking it gently with his thumb.
Emma waited until they felt the familiar rhythm of Hope's even breathing. When she was sure that their daughter was asleep, normal asleep, she spoke softly to Killian.
"Do you remember the day Hope was born?" she asked him.
"Aye love, of course," he replied, and she could hear the curiosity in his voice.
"Do you remember how scared you were to hold her in the delivery room? Even though you'd put the guard on your hook already. You still didn't want to take her when I tried to give her to you."
"I do," he said sadly. She blinked, her heart twisting at the pain in his voice. She hadn't meant to embarrass him or bring up a painful memory. "And do you remember what happened?" she hurriedly continued. "What Hope did?"
In the dim room, across the bed, she thought she could see him smile slightly. "She reached out for me. When I hesitated to take her, she got her little arm free and tried to touch my face."
Emma felt tears well in her eyes at the memory. "She did," she said. "She knew you. She knew that, even if you doubted yourself in that moment, you would never hurt her. You would always protect her."
He was quiet, remembering.
"Well, I think she did the same thing here," Emma continued. "We were split up, but she still knew that she needed you, so she reached out to you. You moved in across the hall. You became our friend. She pulled you into her dreams."
"You think, what, that was all part of her power?" he said thickly.
She squeezed his hand as tightly as she could. "I think it was part of our power," she replied. "What we have between all four of us.
She saw him nod in the darkness. "Aye love, I believe that you may be right," he replied.
They were warm, and safe, and together, and sleep came quickly.