Chapter IX

It had been a couple of quiet weeks and Killian had gotten into a comfortable routine of running the Sheriff's station and spending time with Henry when he could. He wasn't sure if Regina had allowed it - or if she was merely turning a blind eye, but either way he'd been grateful. He'd also made a habit of spending his evenings with Mary Margaret, helping ease the loneliness it seemed to surround her and even convincing her to hit the local bar once or twice a week. He had yet to find a decent bloke for her, but he hadn't given up hope. Killian was sure there were some suitable choices in Storybrooke that weren't married. There had to be.

But the honeymoon period at the Sheriff's office had to come to an end eventually and it wasn't long before Killian found himself entering the local convenience store after a call from the owner about a shoplifting situation. The first thing that struck him as odd was running into Regina and Henry leaving the store.

"Henry, what happened?"

"Mr. Jones, must I remind you that genetics mean nothing. You shouldn't be here. It's all taken care of."

Regina had a point, and Killian knew better than to go against her, but he couldn't resist the words that came to his mouth. "I'm here because I'm the Sheriff, Mayor Mills."

Regina rolled her eyes as if he were a nuisance she hadn't been able to get rid of. "Oh, that's right. Go on – do your job. Take care of those miscreants." She pointed to the interior of the store as she motioned Henry out.

Killian focused his attention back to the store and the two kids that were looking at him with terrified expressions.

"Did you call their parents?" he asked Mr. Clark, the store owner.

"Uh, the number they gave me was disconnected." Mr. Clark stepped into the back of the store to give Killian some privacy with the kids.

"Did you gave Mr. Clark a fake number?" He tried to give his voice authority without overdoing it, as the fear on the kids' faces was almost palpable at this point.

They both shook their heads. He pressed for more information. "Then why's it disconnected?"

"Cause our parents couldn't pay the bill." The girl's voice was small, broken by fear and shame and it tugged at Killian's heart. His eyes darted to the items lying over the counter. There were a few candy bars, but he could also see some necessity items in there. Food, toiletries. He could see all the signs. After all, how many times had Killian himself been in that same spot when he was young?

"You're just trying to help out, aren't you?" He gave them what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

"Please – please don't arrest us. It will just make things worse for our parents," the girl begged.

He'd love to have a few words with those parents. Killian really wanted that, but right now, he needed to ensure those kids were not more frightened by life than what they already were.

He motioned with his hand as he reached for his wallet to pay for the groceries. "Come on, I'll take you home."

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It wasn't a long ride until they reached the house. The children were sat in the back of the cruiser, holding the bags of groceries Killian had purchased for them. On first sight, the house gave him a bad feeling. It didn't seem inhabited. Not really. The structure was there, but the door and shutters were closed and nothing seemed out of place. Something didn't quite fit. Killian turned around and looked at them.

"This is it?" They both nodded. "Alright, let's go." He took off his seatbelt and reached to open the door, but the girl - Ava - stopped him.

"Please, no. If our parents see you, they'll be so embarrassed."

Something in her voice didn't seem quite right. Killian tilted his head and studied her face. "Did Henry tell you about my superpower?" When both kids shook their heads, he gave them a tight smile. "I can tell when someone is lying to me. So, tell me the truth - other than money problems, is everything okay at home?"

Killian knew it was a long shot, the children had barely met him and they seem to run like a tight unit, with Ava doing the talking while the lad - Nicholas - followed her lead. So it was little surprise that it was Ava who looked straight into his eyes and delivered the perfected lie.

"Yeah, we're great. Can we go?"

He wasn't born yesterday, but he also knew he was not going to get a single word out of them at this moment, so he simply nodded and watched them get out of the car. They went up the stairs and turned around as Killian turned over the engine. The children waved at him and seemed to be waiting for Killian to drive off, which he promptly did.

He didn't go far. Killian turned around the corner and parked the car. He killed the engine and got out. The children were no longer on the stairs when he made his way back to the house. He tried the door, and it gave way easily. He opened it enough to pop his head inside the house.

Not only there wasn't a living soul in the house, but there wasn't much to begin with. Killian sighed as he entered the house, verifying his worst suspicious as he took a few steps and noticed that no one - and nothing - lived there. Not for a good long while.

A singular noise coming from the kitchen - as if a door were opening - made him walk towards that room, his hand reaching to the gun he kept at his hip. But he quickly drop the hand when he noticed Ava and Nicholas coming from the basement, their backs to him.

"Why'd you guys lie to me?" he asked in a clipped tone and watched as the kids turned around, a horrified expression on their faces. "Where are your parents?" he insisted.

And then Ava delivered the few words that were sure to rip out his heart. "We don't have any."

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Unsure of what to do, or more accurately, hesitant to execute what he knew had to do, Killian made a quick stop at the Sheriff's station to pick up any files they had on the kids before he took them to the loft. Mary Margaret hadn't arrived yet - he recalled she had mentioned a teacher's meeting at the end of her day -, and whilst Killian wasn't a master cook, he could still throw a few things together in order to prepare a decent meal.

He glanced at the two kids that were looking at him with a mix of apprehension and fear, his mind taking him back to all the times he felt the same way when he was their age. Alone, scared, uncertain of his future, grieving. Killian sighed and tried to think of what type of food he could make for them that could at least put them at ease for a while.

And that is how Mary Margaret entered the loft to a sight of the three of them eating mac and cheese with juice.

"I saved you a ration," Killian smiled shyly as Mary Margaret cocked an eyebrow at him, feeling like a ten-year old caught by his mother.

She sighed, running a hand through his hair before he grabbed a file and tilted his head for her to join him on the other side of the room, out of the kids' earshot.

"Do you know them from school?" Killian asked when he was sure the kids were not able to hear him.

Mary Margaret look over Killian's shoulder at the children with despair. "I've seen them, but… I had no idea. None of us did," she sighed with defeat, as if she were berating herself for not realizing any of this, even if the children were not in her class.

Killian opened the file and read from it. "Ava and Nicholas Zimmer. They said their mother was a woman named Dory Zimmer. She died a few years ago. No one seems to know her or remember her." He look up to find Mary Margaret shaking her head and if she couldn't remember the woman either.

"And the father?"

Killian sighed. "There isn't one. At least not one that they know." It seemed to be a dead end.

"What does Social Services say?" She asked with concern in her voice. Killian's mouth opened, but no words came out of it as he winced and gave Mary Margaret a sheepish look.

Realization dawned on Mary Margaret. "You didn't report them."

"I can't," Killian sighed. "I report them, I can't help them. They go into the system."

"The system that's supposed to help," Mary Margaret stated, only to be met by his stern eyes.

"Mary Margaret, you didn't grow up in there. It's not all it's cracked up to be."

She gave him a smile that had a hint of commiseration in it. If it had come from anyone else, he'd already be out of the door. But somehow, it didn't bother him when it came from Mary Margaret. It made him feel cared for, in way that it was almost too scary for him to admit. "You - you had a good home."

"But I was adopted when I was baby!" He tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, but he was failing and he knew it the moment his eyes filled with tears he fought off. "When the Joneses died and I went back to the system, it wasn't nice… at all."

"But perhaps for them-" she started but he cut her off.

"At their age, so close to the holidays, they won't make it to a good home. They'll get thrown into homes where they are a meal ticket – nothing more. These families get paid for these kids and as soon as they're too much work, they get tossed out and it all starts over again." His voice was nothing but a broken whisper. "Trust me, I know."

He dared to meet her eyes again, almost ashamed of revealing that much of himself, even to Mary Margaret. All there was in her eyes was sympathy. "Killian, do you want to keep them?" she asked softly.

"I want to look for their father. They don't know him. He may not know they exist."

Understanding crept into her eyes. "You think if he knows, he'll want them."

He nodded, not being able to voice the thoughts he knew were showing on his expression.

I've always wanted Henry… I just couldn't have him.

"I have to try. Because what I do know is hard enough finding foster families to take one kid that isn't theirs, let alone two. It's their best shot, or-"

The voice behind him cut him off. "We're going to be separated?"

Killian and Mary Margaret turned to find Ava looking at them with tears in her eyes. Killian's heart tugged at the image in front of him, so familiar for him that he'd lost count of the time he'd seen such despair in all the homes he'd been in.

"No," he said reassuringly. "That is not going to happen."

"Please – please don't let it," she begged with such desperation in her voice that broke his heart.

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Killian walked into the public registry office and looked for the man behind it. "Excuse me, Mr. -" He took a look at the little plaque set on the counter. "Krzyszkowski?"

After being corrected on the correct pronunciation of the name, Killian introduced himself. "I'm Sheriff Jones. I'm hoping to take a look at the birth certificates of Ava and Nicholas Zimmer."

He was instructed to fill in some forms - in triplicate - and he was immersed in local red tape as the man busied himself looking in the filing cabinets. Krzyszkowski turned around with an unalterable expression. "I'm sorry, Sheriff. But the documents have been recently removed."

"By who?"

He shouldn't have been surprised by the answer. "The Mayor."

Luckily, it was only a short walk down the hall from the registry into the Mayor's office in Town Hall. He didn't bother with polite greetings as he barged into the office and found Regina standing by her desk, rearranging some flowers. "Did you take the Zimmer kids' file?"

Regina turned and quirked her smile at him. "Don't worry, Mr. Jones. You can relax." She walked around her desk and stood on the other side. "I've contacted Social Services. Turns out these kids are on their own. They need help." There was a hint of something of a challenge in her voice, as if she was trying to see if he was going to falter at this news.

Killian tried to school his features, not letting Regina see how much this was affecting him. "I'm trying to help. I'm trying to find their father."

"Well, he doesn't exist." Regina shrugged her shoulders in a dismissive way.

"He has to."

She handed him the folder and Killian opened, his heart breaking at the "UNKNOWN" word underneath father in the records.

"Well, of course, biologically, he exists. But unlike you, there's no record of him." Killian could read in her words how much she'd preferred that he wasn't listed on Henry's birth certificate. "Which means we have no choice – these children need a home, so they will be put into the foster system."

"Storybrooke has a foster system?" Maybe he could do some recon on the people, keep a close eye on them. Even if things went bad, he could perhaps convince Mary Margaret to-

"No." Regina's word put a stop to his hope. "I've contacted the state. Maine's group homes, unfortunately, are filled." Regina walked towards a side table by the opposite wall and pulled herself a glass of juice. "But they put us in touch with two homes in Boston – a boy's home and a girl's."

No.

"They're separating them?" He couldn't fight the emotion that was present in his voice or the way he knew his face was faltering.

"I don't like it, either. But we've got no choice. You need to have them in Boston tonight."

"Me?" As if life wasn't already a cruel joke.

"You wanted to be Sheriff." Regina played with the rim of her glass as she looked at him. "This is what sheriffs do. Yes, you're taking them."

"I promised them they wouldn't be separated," Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Perhaps you should stop making promises you can't keep." Her voice had a triumphal tone that made Killian shiver. "These children need a home. I'm just trying to find the best one."

Separated foster homes were not the best choices, he thought. But at this point, he had little else to offer them.

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Killian had spent the rest of the day poring over files at the station, trying to find a lead. But there were none. He was caught up reading when he heard the door to the office open. He lifted his head and found Henry walking in, carrying his backpack and the storybook with him.

"Any luck?" he asked as dropped his backpack on the floor and put the book over on the desk.

"No," Killian sighed, running a hand over his face in frustration.

Henry opened the book and flipped through it. "I know who they are. They're brother and sister, lost, no parents," he found a page and turned the book towards Killian, showing him an illustration of two children in a forest. "Hansel and Gretel."

He had to give it to Henry, the kid was good at relating real life stories with the fairy tales from his book. "Anything in there about the father?" Killian thought it was worth a shot to see if perhaps this could inspire a real life lead.

Henry shook his head. "Just that he abandoned them."

"Great." Killian stood up and headed for the filing cabinet, pulling some missing person's reports to see if there was anything in there. "He could be anywhere by now."

"No, he's here," Henry said with conviction. "No one leaves Storybrooke. No one comes here, no one goes. It's just the way it is."

"You left," Killian pointed out as he sat again and opened one of the files. "I came here."

"Because you're special. You're the first stranger here – ever." Henry insisted as he sat over the desk and Killian wondered once again how bad the situation must have been that Henry had concocted all these fables in his mind.

"Well, if he's still here, I will find him." Finding people was what he did best. He just needed a bloody lead to start his tracking. Something. Anything.

"Speaking of parents," Henry started and something in his tone made Killian lift his head. "Can you tell me more about Emma?"

Killian smiled at his son. "Henry, I-"

"Please?" he begged, his eyes wide with an aching need that Killian knew too well. It was the same he'd sported most of his life. "Were you together when you went to jail? What happened?"

It was all Henry had to say for Killian's mind to drift to the night he'd pinpointed as the beginning of the end.

It was a few months after his 18th birthday that they stood in a soft embrace at the entrance of that motel room. They were still spending most of their nights in the backseat of the Bug; but, somehow, the night manager had taken a shine to them. She'd let them use of the vacant rooms once a week, so they could have a hot shower and a warm bed. If she realized how young they were - or how they seemed to get by - she didn't mention as she slid Killian the key each time, along with a 20 dollar bill he always refused to accept.

But soon their hardships would be over. Once he succeeded in doing the pick-up Neal and August had told him about, his cut would enough to buy them a better life. He'd made sure of it when Neal and August had tried to negotiate with him.

"I still don't trust them," Emma whispered against his neck, her lips caressing the bare skin and causing him to shiver, his hand tightening his grip on her waist as he pulled her closer to him. "August is always acting mysterious and broody as if that makes him interesting -" Killian chuckled at Emma's clear distaste for the cryptic man, whose theatrics hadn't impressed Killian either. "And Neal-"

It was her time to shudder and Killian held her tighter. Neither of them liked Neal that much, but Killian especially didn't like the way his eyes would roam over Emma. He had thought about quitting on this task a few times and just taking Emma and driving the Bug far away, but the possibilities-

"I know." His voice was exuding a calm he didn't quite feel as he took a step away from her embrace and met her eyes. "I don't like it either but Emma, this can change everything. This will change everything."

His fingers interlaced with hers. "I pull this off and then we can be out of here… we can start over in another city. We'll have enough money to rent a place and we can work on getting our GEDs and finding jobs-" he trailed off, his other hand reaching to trail her cheek and she leaned in further into his touch.

"We can have the life we always wanted. The life we deserve."

The life you deserve.

Her lips claimed his in a desperate way, as if she were pouring all her fears and hesitations in that kiss, in the way she pulled him further into the room and towards the bed.

"Promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you'll come back to me."

"Aye, I promise," he whispered as he laid her gently down on the bed and hovered over her, his lips never leaving her skin.

Killian cleared his throat, bringing himself back from the painful memories. "I made her a promise I couldn't keep." He met Henry's eyes fair and square. "When I- when I went to jail, I was framed. Emma, she didn't trust the men I associated with and she tried to warn me, but I didn't listen to her. I promised her everything would be okay. And it wasn't."

I left her alone, the moment she needed me the most.

"I never meant to betray her, but I did." He sighed, running a hand through the back of his neck.

"Did you try to look for her? When you got out of jail?"

"Aye… but I couldn't find her, m'boy" His voice was thick with emotion, his eyes welling with tears as he witnessed Henry's heartache.

"I couldn't find her either." He tilted his head in that way Killian was so familiar with. "Do you have anything from her? Other than the picture you gave me?"

Killian sadly shook his head. "I'll tell you what. You can have the Bug when you're old enough to drive. It was her car to begin with."

Henry beamed at him and Killian wished with all his heart that he could have something - anything - left from Emma to give to the boy. Something to know how much Emma had cared about him. Because he had no doubt in his mind that Emma had cared for the lad, so much that she let Henry go so he could have his better chance. Something the lad could hold onto for the rest of his life, much like he had held onto his baby blanket-

His eyes widened as realization dawned on him.

"Henry, I have to go… I think I know how to track this guy." He quickly stood up and reached to kiss the lad on his forehead before he exited the station and headed to the loft. He had an idea on how to start looking for this guy.

He was halfway down the block when he realized it was the first time he'd kissed his son's forehead.

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He retrieved the box with his meager mementos and headed downstairs, where the children were eating milk and decorated cookies - Mary Margaret really had a knack for hosting.

"I want to show you something," he said as he pulled his blanket out of the box where it was laying carefully next to a little box that carried a few mementos. It was a white one with blue ribbons and his name embroidered in blue as well.

"What's that?"

"It's my baby blanket. It's something I've held onto my whole life. It's the only thing that I have from… from the people that gave birth to me." He couldn't bring himself to call them his parents. Not even in this moment. "I've spent a lot of time with kids in your situation and they - we - hold onto stuff." He gave them an encouraging smile as their eyes widened at his confession. Aye, a lost boy trying to help another set of lost children. "I want to find your father, but I need your help. Is there anything you've held onto?"

Ava gave him an inquisitive look. "I might… but if I give it to you, you'll make sure we stay together, right?"

"Aye." He was going to do everything in his power to keep that promise.

She pulled an object from the pocket of her sweater and handed it to him. It was a compass secured to a chain.

"Our mom kept it. She said it was our dad's."

He took the compass with the reverence it deserved. "Thank you." He turned it in his hands to examine it for possible clues.

"Did you find them?" Ava's voice broke him out of his focus.

"Who?"

"Your parents."

"No. I found people that raised me as their own until I lost them. After that, I knew it wasn't worth looking." He knew it was not the best tale, but he had to tell them the truth. "But I will find yours."

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Dealing with Gold was always something that Killian despised, and dealing with the man when he needed something from him always left him with a sour taste in his mouth. But alas, after some gibberish speech about craftsmanship of the piece and a request for forgiveness - Gold had to settle for tolerance because Killian wasn't interested in much more - Killian had walked out of the pawnshop with a name.

Michael Tillman.

It was quite easy to find the man working at his garage. What wasn't easy was convincing him he'd fathered twins twelve years ago.

"It can't be possible." Michael held the files with Ava and Nicholas' pictures in his hands, but refused to believe it.

"Aye, mate, but it is."

Michael handed them back the files. "Dory wasn't my - it was just once."

Killian tilted his head. "Sometimes, that's all it takes."

"I met her when I was camping… it was a fling. It can't be. I don't have twins."

Killian had enough of the man's reticence. It wasn't the first time he'd found it in his line of work. "Yes, you do." The firm tone of his voice caught Michael's attention. "You have twins that have been homeless ever since their mother passed away. You have twins who have been living in an abandoned house because they don't want to be separated from each other. You have twins who are about to be shipped off to Boston, unless you step up and take responsibility for them."

"I can barely manage this garage. I can't manage two kids. And why are you so sure they're mine?"

He was going to punch the guy, God help him. "Besides the timing?" He took the compass out of his pocket. "Perhaps you've lost this, I don't' know - twelve years and nine months ago?"

Michael froze as he took the compass and Killian felt sorry for the man. "Look, I know it's a lot to take in."

"What would you know? It's not like you took care of yours."

Killian clenched his jaw and tilted his head, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "Don't talk about things you don't understand, mate." There was enough threat in his voice to make the other man recoil a few steps. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know it's not easy. The son I consented to give up for adoption showed up at my doorstep a little over month ago, asking for help with… something. And I ended up moving here for him." It was unbelievable that it'd only been a month since his life had changed so drastically. Only a month of meeting the one person - the other person - he knew he'd never leave in his life.

"Staying in town, it's a lot different than taking him in."

"You have a choice, I didn't." Killian met Michael's eyes. "Those kids didn't ask to be brought into this world. You brought them into this world – you and their mother. And they need you. And if you choose not to take them, you are going to have to answer for that every day of your life. And sooner or later, when they find you – because believe me, they will find you – you're going to have to answer to them."

But no matter how much he was trying to get through the man, it was a fruitless attempt. "I'm really sorry. I am. But I don't know anything about being a dad. If it's a good home you're looking for, it's not with me." He handed the compass back to Killian and turned away from him.

He knew he should just let it go, just walk away and drive those kids down to Boston and hope they end up in a place where they were wanted. He should just do his duty as the Sheriff of this town.

And yet- Killian closed his fist over the compass. "I didn't know anything about being a father either, mate, but that doesn't mean we leave our children to their fate when they need us."

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He couldn't face coming back to the loft. Heartbroken, he made a phone call to the one person he needed to talk with at this moment.

Mary Margaret quickly met him outside.

"He doesn't want the kids," he sighed in defeat.

"And you don't want to tell them." Mary Margaret was getting really good at reading him like an open book.

"I can't tell them. I'll be breaking their hearts." He ran his hand through his hair. "I'll be yet another adult that gave them false hope and lied to them."

"Are you talking about them - or you?" Mary Margaret quirked an eyebrow at him. "Killian, the truth can be painful, but it can also be cathartic."

"I have yet to see the cathartic part." Killian offered with a quip, trying hard to control the turmoil of emotions he was feeling with this entire case. "Perhaps we can hide them, just until we find someone in town willing to take care of them?"

"The Sheriff talking about hiding two twelve year olds. This is a great plan, Killian." It had to be the first time she was this sarcastic with him.

"Do you have a better idea, darling?" He snapped back. "Something that doesn't involve separating those kids and break their hearts?"

If Mary Margaret had a plan, she couldn't say because they were interrupted by the Mayor.

"Sheriff, shouldn't you be on the interstate by now?"

"Keeping tabs on me, love?" Killian knew he shouldn't be talking like that to the Mayor, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Seeing to it that you do your job, that is all."

"You don't have to check up on me, Regina." He took a couple of steps and invading her personal space, having the satisfaction to see her step back. "I know what I have to do. I'm quite good at it."

This was a terrible - terrible - idea. He was playing with fire. Regina's eyes avoided him for a second before she took a hold of herself.

"Have them in Boston tonight, Sheriff Jones."

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Killian couldn't even make eye contact with the children as he drove them towards the town exit, Henry's warning about them not being able to leave town still lingering in his mind. It was then when the patrol car started slowing and the engine making a few alarming noises. He pulled to the side of the road just in time, as the engine cut out and refused to start again. He gave it one half-hearted try to see if the engine would respond. It 'didn't'.

Oh, well. He had no option but to call in a tow.

It wasn't long until Michael Tillman showed up and the way his eyes widened at the two children sitting in the back of the patrol car said everything Killian needed to know.

"That's them."

"Aye. I just wanted you to see them. At least once." Killian swallowed, pushing his fears aside. "I didn't think I could do it either. Henry's birth mother and I, we wanted to give him his best shot. When he came to me, and I saw he wasn't as happy as I wanted him to be, I couldn't leave. Not until I knew he'd be okay. But now, now that I know him, I can't go back. It's all or nothing now."

He met Michael's eyes. "I'm sure the car will start again if I really get into it. I have to take them to Boston."

"No, you don't." Michael quickly made his way towards the patrol car and Killian's heart got a little rest from the turmoil of the past few days as he saw father and children fuse into an embrace.

It was a long day and by the time he finally made it back to the loft, he was knackered. Mary Margaret was sitting on her bed, folding laundry. Killian threw himself down on the bed. "Their dad showed up. Changed his mind." He offered as explanation, but nothing seemed to get past Mary Margaret.

"Just like that?" There was that tone that probably would make eight year olds confess to the pettiest of crimes. And it seemed to be working on Killian too.

"I might have given him a little nudge." Mary Margaret quirked an eyebrow at him. "Well, perhaps a shove." His eyes focused on the ceiling, letting his own buried hopes and dreams come to the surface. "I've always wondered, you know? What it would be like to find them. After I lost my adop - my parents, I always thought perhaps my birth parents would find me… explain to me why they left me. But they never did."

"You don't need to find your birth parents, Killian. Not if you don't want to," Mary Margaret offered empathically, her hand squeezing his.

Killian propped himself up on one elbow. "No I don't," he gave her a mischievous smile. "And according to Henry, I already found them."

Mary Margaret's eyes twinkled with mischief, as she made an act of studying him carefully. "You do have my chin. And my hair."

"And your undying optimism. Oh no, wait!"

They both laughed for a moment or two. "Yeah, maybe not that."

Killian sighed and forced himself to leave the comfortable bed and the warmth of the loft. "I'm going to go see Henry." He gave Mary Margaret a final smile. "I'll see you later?"

"Don't stay out too late!" She called after him in a motherly tone.

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Killian and Henry sat on the bench, drinking hot chocolate and talking about Ava and Nicholas, when the sound of an approaching motorcycle made them both tilt their heads in confusion.

"I don't recall anyone having a motorcycle in town… Henry?"

Henry shook his head in confirmation of his thoughts. "This is weird. No strangers come into town."

As the bike came closer, Killian's blood ran cold. He'd seen that motorcycle before, and worse - he thought he knew the man who sat astride it, his face hidden behind that helmet. His heart stopped and his worst suspicions were confirmed the moment the bike slowed to a stop in front of them.

"That is no stranger, lad," Killian said as he stood up from the bench and pushed Henry behind him.

As he feared, as the man lifted the helmet off he found the familiar face of a brown haired man with blue eyes staring at him.

"Killian," the man started but Killian didn't let him finish, taking two steps and crossing his arms over his chest.

"What in the blazes are you doing here, August?"