Reaching across the memory foam mattress, he found nothing but empty space, the covers piled in a heap at the opposite side of the bed.

Well that accounts for the draft.

Killian opened one eye and squinted into the early morning sun filtering into the room. Peering at the clock in time to see the digits change from 8:14 to 8:15, he groaned.

His call was muffled by the pillow in which he'd buried his face, "Swan?"

No answer.

He rolled onto his back. "Why the blazes are you awake at this ungodly hour on a Sunday?"

Still nothing.

"I was thinking, with Henry at Regina's until tomorrow," Killian tousled his hair as he stretched, feeling every bit his three hundred years with each muscle that protested, "perhaps today would be the perfect opportunity to reenact our second date." He ambled toward the lavatory ("Bathroom, Killian. It's called a bathroom."), yawning as he went. "Our actual second date, not that catastrophe with the wall of ice—"

He stopped in his tracks when the object of his search appeared at the threshold, her face flush with terror.

"Emma, wh—"

"Killian, something's wrong."

He woke with a gasp, his body nearly tumbling from the bed as he bolted upright. After a quick survey of his surroundings, he closed his eyes, fell back against the mattress. He ran his hand along his face, forcing deep breaths. It was an instinct to turn his attention to the clock at his bedside table, but such a reflex was no longer necessary—no matter how haunted his dreams, or his effort to break free of them, he awoke at the same time every day.

The smell of bacon wafted into his room, mingled with sounds of life coming from the kitchen. Voices rising above the clamor of running water and shuffling feet.

With a low growl, Killian threw back the covers, scarcely disturbed throughout the night, despite the memories that'd preyed upon his sleeping form.

He came upon them as quietly as he could, but Beth spotted him before he cleared the corridor and immediately abandoned her countertop perch, cutting through the crowd, and bounding straight for him. "Daddy!"

Killian took her up in his arms. "Good morning, Love."

Linking her limbs around his neck, she embraced him with all her might. Killian kissed her cheek before setting her back on her feet.

"Grandpa's making pancakes."

"I gathered." Killian nodded his acknowledgement to David, who stood over a cluttered stove with a hand towel draped over one shoulder, which Mary Margaret removed to dry the dishes she'd just washed.

"Thought you'd sleep in," she said with a light smile.

"Dad never sleeps in," remarked the seven year old at Killian's side. "Says morning reminds him of Mom."

Killian grinned. "Aye. That it does. So much for keeping secrets, eh?" He poked his daughter in the shoulder, eliciting a giggle. The sympathetic expressions that ensued thereafter had Killian clearing his throat. "So, pancakes?"

Mary Margaret was the first to move. She filled a plate with all the necessary sides and set it at the table. "You're lucky there's anything left, with these two. Henry's on his third helping."

"You're home early, Lad," said Killian, mussing the boy's hair as he took a seat across from Neal, who was presently engrossed in his handheld electronic device. The youngest among them pushed her chair so close to her father's as to practically be seated in his lap. "How's University?"

Henry shrugged. "Cold."

"If only you'd had some kind of warning," said David over his shoulder.

Henry rolled his eyes before stabbing at the last few bites of his meal. "Yeah, yeah. I wanted an overseas school, I wanted to leave home, I brought this on myself." Lowering his voice, he said to Killian, "You chose to live here?"

"It seemed a good idea at the time."

"I heard that," said David.

Mary Margaret patted her husband's back. "Shouldn't you be getting dressed?"

David looked at the clock and swore under his breath.

"You owe me a dollar!" Said Beth. Remembering her presence had David swearing a second time. "That's two!"

"Grandma's right, I should get dressed." Turning to Killian, he said, "Unless you want to be late, I suggest you do the same."

Killian stood, cleared his plate, and turned back to Beth. "Best behavior for Grandma, hm?"

"Always." She beamed up at him. "Honestly, Daddy, what do you take me for?"

Killian arched his brow, catching the mischief in Beth's eyes. It was the sort of gleam her mother got whenever she was up to something.

"I'll be calling to check in."

Beth sighed, her shoulders slumping dramatically. "No trust."

"Trust is earned, Love. After the incident last month, it'll be a long haul for you."

"It was only a small fire," she whined. "His eyebrows grew back!"

Neal looked up from his device, silencing her with a scowl.

"Just…try not to break anything."

—

Freshly showered, Killian fell into bed. To say it'd been a long day would've been an understatement. After Beth was born, it'd seemed only right that Killian should take David's place at the station, while he filled the position left by his daughter, but now…

Now Killian was beginning to feel too many of his prolonged years.

"What're you, like three hundred?"

"Dad?"

He sat up despite the ache in his back. Beth stood in the doorway, frowning.

"What's troubling you, Love?"

"I can't sleep," she said. "Could you tell me a story?"

Killian patted the mattress and Beth's face lit up with her bright smile as she crawled in beside him.

"What shall it be tonight?"

Beth's face scrunched up, contemplating. "The first time you met Mom."

"That is a good story, though I didn't always know it."

"She only left you 'cause she liked you."

"I know that now, don't I?" Killian smirked at his little girl. Emma's face stared back at him, wearing his dark hair. "At the time, it was quite the underhanded move. Had a bit of a duplicitous side, your mum. One of her best qualities."

Beth smiled. "You think all her qualities are the best."

"You've got me there, Love."

The child's frown returned as she was overtaken by silence that lasted a full minute. Killian watched her, waiting for her to continue her questioning—he couldn't remember a time she'd stopped at just one. When she spoke again, his heart sank at her words.

"Do you think she would've liked me?"

"She would've loved you." Killian put his arm around Beth and pulled her close. "There is very powerful magic in our family, and your mother's was the most powerful of all. They called her the Product of True Love, and that's what she passed on to you. You are everything she hoped for and couldn't possibly imagine."

Beth arched the infernal brow she'd inherited from him.

"Don't believe me? Just ask your brother, or your grandparents—as anyone who knew her. A prouder mum you'd be hard-pressed to find in this or any realm."

"When did you know you loved her?"

"I guess I knew from the start. But I didn't know I knew until she kissed me."

"Gross."

Killian nudged her with his arm. "How do you suppose you got here, eh?"

"Magic?"

"Speaking of, how were your lessons?"

Beth sat up straight, the light returned to her green eyes. "I turned Roland into a toad."

Killian's good humor vanished. "You did what?"

"Regina couldn't undo it so she called Henry's grandpa. Then she wrote me a check for the swear jar."

"Bloody hell."

"Ah!" Beth pointed her finger at him. "I'm telling Grandpa you owe me a dollar." She scampered off the bed and out the door.

"Hey!" Killian called after her. "It was a slip of the tongue! I didn't—bollocks."

"Two dollars!"

"How the blazes did you hear that?"

"Three!"

Killian grunted to himself as he got up to follow her. Fewer things gave David as great a thrill as knowing his son-in-law had made a larger arse of himself than Grandpa. But as he trudged past the lavatory ("Killian…"), he was brought to a halt by the sound of banging. Subtle at first, but growing steadily stronger. It seemed to be emanating from behind the mirror, which was made more curious by the fact that the wall on which it hung wasn't a shared one—no rooms existed beyond it. Indeed, there was nothing but a two-story drop to the side yard. When Killian drew near for closer inspection, the sound stopped, and all that greeted him was his own reflection.

Physically, he'd seen better days. Streaks of gray, understated but present nonetheless, had taken root in his hair. Dark circles lined his eyes—not the work of his own hand, as would've been the case seven years prior. Age was catching up with him.

Could be worse, he mused, I could look like Dave.

Killian sighed, immediately regretting his quip at David's expense, unspoken though it was. He couldn't fathom even the possibility of losing his daughter, as David and Mary Margaret had done how many times, now?

Henry was another matter, entirely. Having lost his own mother early in his youth, Killian consoled the lad as well as eh could, considering. Henry had stopped reading fairytales, stopped believing in Happily Ever After. Even magic became a sensitive subject. Suffice it to say, Storybrooke wasn't conducive to the boy's recovery. When opportunity presented itself—short seconds after he'd graduated high school, it seemed—Henry left. Separation was good for him, Killian knew—they all knew. He came home during the summer months, and when the university was on holiday, and the change was visible. He was less weighed down, less burdened by grief and constant reminders.

It would've broken his mother's heart to see him so forlorn.

Killian turned on the tap, rinsed his face with water. And the rhythm began again, soft but growing, until the mirror trembled. When Killian reached forward to touch it, the glass shattered.

He didn't have time to react, as at that precise moment, a soul-crushing scream erupted from the living room. Recognizing it as belonging to Beth, Killian ran.

She stood with her hands over her ears, eyes closed, giving no heed to David's ministrations. Henry, too, attempted to break the child of her hysteria, to no avail.

Killian kneeled beside her, wrapped her in an embrace, cradled her head in his hand.

Sensing it was him, she melted into his arms. "You couldn't hear me—I called you, but you couldn't—"

"Shh," Killian stroked her hair, forcing every ounce of calm he could muster into his voice, "it's all right. You're safe."

He looked to David and then to Henry with a question in his eyes. Both shook their heads.

—

There had to be another option. Regina? The Blue Fairy? Any number of magical beings that traipsed in and out of town wreaking havoc? As far as Killian was concerned, calling on the Crocodile was a last resort.

Emma took his hand, entwining their fingers, when she got out of the car. She'd been getting progressively worse over the past weeks, and looking at her now, nearly all the pigment had drained from her face. She smiled despite the weakness eating away at her, still distressed over the thought of Killian worrying.

Blood maddening lass.

Gods forbid she worry about herself, for once.

"It'll be okay," she said. "He's changed."

"So everyone keeps saying."

Killian would reserve judgment on the Crocodile's redemption until provided with sound proof. Smiling past his instincts, Killian aided his wife in entering the pawn shop.

—

The sodding imp had the audacity to sigh. "During my days as the Dark One, scarce was the occasion when I was consulted on matters this trivial."

"You call death trivial?" Asked Killian, working to temper his rage and failing.

"Well aren't we the pessimistic reprobate?" Quipped the Crocodile. "Death, as I'm sure you're well aware, is quite serious. Your wife is as far from its clutches as one can get—indeed, she carries the most powerful Product of True Love since, well, herself." Grinning, he turned to Emma. "Congratulations."

"She's pregnant?"

"No." Emma shook her head, leaning on the counter that encased collectibles, many of which, while not of the same caliber as Regina's relics, bore traces of dark magic. "It wasn't like this with Henry—this is something else. I feel like something is sucking my life force."

"I'm curious as to what you think it is children do, Miss Swan."

Emma rolled her eyes, opting to ignore the Crocodile's blatant mistake. Were she at her normal strength, she might've returned with, "It's Jones, and you know it. Now cut the bullshit," as had been her practice in the past.

"It sure as hell isn't this. Tell me what we're dealing with so I can remedy it, or kill it, or…" Emma closed her eyes, inhaling air through her teeth and bending at the waist.

"Do something," Killian commanded. "Can't you see she's suffering?"

The Crocodile crossed to the back of his shop and disappeared. Hardly anything to lament during the average day, his absence now felt eternal. When he rejoined them, he carried a small wooden chest in his hands.

He removed one of its vials and handed it to Emma. "Drink this."

She eyed the ampule with suspicion before following his instruction, swallowing back the elixir with a sour expression.

The result was instantaneous—Emma stood straight, the glow of vitality returned to her skin. Confused, she turned to the imp, who was well pleased with himself.

"It seems my work here is done." He closed the lid on his box of potions. "If you find yourselves in want of a midwife, feel free to look elsewhere."

"Wait a minute," said Emma. "What the hell was that?"

"Perhaps you should reference that time-tested lie detector of yours. Seems a point of pride for you."

"Seriously?"

"Whether you're willing to accept it or not, Miss Swan, what I've told you is the truth. In a few months' time, the princess and the pirate," he gestured to each in turn, "shall be the proud parents of a charming little girl. Just what the world needs."

"What was that potion you gave her?" Asked Killian.

"Miss Swan was right—essentially, the child is, now how did you phrase it? Sucking her life force. The Product of True Love, twice over—even the Dark One's powers would pale in comparison. What I've just given her should ensure her survival during the pregnancy."

"And after?"

"That…" the Crocodile paused, his face creasing with a wicked grin, "…is up to fate, now, isn't it?"

His body was heavier than usual. Moving his arm, he felt the child that weighed him down, and the storybook she'd insisted would help her sleep lying open on his stomach. Killian smiled. No nightmare could rattle him when he woke up next to his favorite person in all the worlds. He maneuvered his way to freedom without disturbing her peaceful slumber, and set her book aside.

She'd wanted to hear the story of his travels to the past, never tiring of that particular tale—nor Peter Pan, to be sure. She'd pester Killian with questions regarding the boy who never grew old ("Is that true? Did that really happen? Did you really say that? Dad, were you a villain?" Killian smiled and said, "Depends who you ask.")

"And the whole time, Grandma and Grandpa didn't know it was you?"

"They hadn't met us yet, hadn't met each other."

Beth turned the page to the portrait of him and Emma dancing at King Midas' castle. "Is that when Mom started to love you back?"

Smirking, Killian answered, "You know, she once told me she was incapable of pinpointing a specific moment. That it was the sum of all our adventures together. One day, she realized it had been there, in some degree, from the beginning. She just needed time to catch up."

When Beth didn't respond, Killian looked at her in time to watch a tear trail down her cheek. "What's this?"

Beth snuggled closer to him, laying her head on Killian's chest. "Is it possible to miss someone you've never met?"

"I think it's entirely possible."

Beth fell silent as Killian ran his hand in soothing motions along her arm. It wasn't long before he felt something dampening his shirt. "I miss Mom."

"As do I, Love."

Shards of glass littered the bathroom floor ("Ah, so you can learn."). Killian knelt carefully at their perimeter and began gathering them into the rubbish bin. One shard caught his attention and he blinked several times to rule out hallucination. What should have reflected ceiling tile or bathroom cabinet cast the image of two eyes, green as emeralds, looking out from their glass confine.

Curious.

If Killian didn't know better, he'd say they belonged to—

The edge sliced the tip of his thumb and he recoiled. "Fu—"

"Dad?"

"—dge mint." He turned toward the entrance, where Beth regarded him with a strange stare. "I'm thinking ice cream for breakfast—what say my first mate?"

"What happened?"

"I uh…lost my balance. Knocked the mirror clean off the wall."

Beth narrowed her eyes, studying him. "What really happened?"

She had to inherit that damned lie detector.

"It just…shattered. Last night."

The child's expression turned grave, her eyes wide with surprise.

"What is it, Love?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Henry's taking me to Regina's soon, so…"

With that, she was out the door, leaving Killian to wonder if there was a trait of Emma's she wouldn't develop.