Collaboration by: HollyeLeigh, and winterbaby89 / Beta'd by: ilovemesomekillianjones / Art work (on Tumblr) by: xhookswenchx

Summary: Moments before the Evil Queen's Dark Curse whisks our beloved fairytale characters to Storybrooke, Captain Hook finally gets his revenge on the Crocodile. Twenty-eight years later, Killian Jones awakes in Storybrooke expecting just another ordinary day, that is until a number of abnormal occurrences disrupts his otherwise scheduled life. The greatest of which is a new face in town. A young woman by the name of Emma. Emma. What a lovely name...

Disclaimer: Canon dialogue and scenes from various episodes will appear within this fic. To Adam, Eddie, and the OUAT writers goes all the credit.

Line breaks signify a change in POV or scene.

Chapter 1

Twenty-Eight years later...

The incessant beep of the alarm was finally quieted by his outstretched hand. He wasn't even sure why he bothered to set the infernal thing. He'd risen with the sun for… well, for as long as he could remember; a habit he's never understood, nor been able to break.

Killian Jones crawled out of his overly large king sized bed and started his morning routine. The same routine he'd done every morning since… well, nevermind.

While showering he mentally ran through his daily itinerary; who to visit for rent money, who to visit to threaten about past due rent, which threats to make good on, and what supplies he would need to collect to continue work on his one true love, his ship the Jewel.

As one of the largest landowners in town, with approximately half of Storybrooke's deeds in his name, just about everyone in town had dealings with Mr. Jones. Some more amicable than others. But being the town landlord, amongst other, less savory, occupations took its toll, so in an effort to balance the stress of day-to-day life, Killian made time for one gratifying outlet, as well as one vice.

Restoring the old mid century brig in the harbor was Killian's one true passion, while his free supply of top shelf rum from The Rabbit Hole's proprietor was his solace.

Drying off after his shower, Killian subconsciously rubbed his right forearm with the niggling feeling that something was missing. Putting the strange thought from his mind, what could possibly be missing, he dressed and vacated his expansive home. Some in town referred to it as the Jones Manor, as it exceeded even Mayor Mills' mansion in style and grandeur.

It was a fine day. The late October weather had just begun to turn a bit too crisp, but still offered that pleasant cozy autumn feel, so he opted to make his way on foot to his first stop of the day - Granny's. Always Granny's. Everyday, without fail, Killian found himself on that familiar path to the local diner. Sometimes for business, but mostly for coffee, and to make his presence known to the townsfolk that he'd started his daily rounds. This morning was no different than any other.

In fact, most mornings were no different, he mused briefly. The same house, the same ocean, the same walk from the private bluff his home, and one other house, which currently stood vacant occupied, the same people, the same activities. Everything was much the same from one day to the next, which was probably what made the sight of the Mills lad peddling like mad down Main Street stick out in such sharp contrast to everything else occurring around Killian.

The lad must have missed the bus, Killian reasoned. Strange. It's not like Henry to be running late for school. I'll have to remember to ask him about it later when we meet at the Jewel.

Henry Mills.

The one bright spot in Killian's otherwise dark and lonely existence. A good lad, despite his insufferable mother's upbringing, and one that Killian had taken quite a shine to the moment he'd caught him on the Jewel all those years ago. The lad had been what, seven, eight at the time? Hard to remember…

Henry was quite possibly the only person who ever sought out Killian's company, and didn't seem the least bit put off by the salty, old, sea dog's moods or reputation. To be fair, Killian wasn't sure just how much the lad was privy to when it came to his dealings around town. Nevertheless, something about Henry Mills had immediately endeared itself to Killian and he now found himself with a ten-year-old sized shadow following him about each day as he imparted all manner of sailing and other knowledge to the lad.

The hours spent with Henry were the best of Killian's day, but they always came with a price. For inevitably it would be time for the lad to say his good-byes, and once again Killian would find himself alone, with only his demons to keep him company. This was usually about the time he'd make his way to The Rabbit Hole and attempt to drown said demons with a bottle of rum - the aforementioned vice.

Everyday. Always the same.

Except today it seemed. For not only had Henry apparently missed the bus to school, but he didn't join Killian on the Jewel afterward.

If it didn't mean that he'd have to actually engage with the boy's mother, Mayor Regina Mills, Killian would have called to check up on the lad. However, he was rather certain that Regina had no idea where her son spent his afternoons, outside of the odd therapy session with Dr. Hopper, and Killian did not want to expose their meetings; both to protect Henry, and, more selfishly, prevent the loss of the boy's camaraderie.

Though he was anxious something dire might have happened to prevent the boy from seeking their standing afternoon engagement, Killian was more tormented by the thought that Henry had opted not to come of his own accord. Killian would be lying if he said the thought hadn't occurred to him that one day Henry would learn the truth of just who Killian Jones was - unsavory and corrupt landowner, emotionally bankrupt shell of a man, ruthless scoundrel, and would wish nothing more to do with him.

Henry had once jokingly called Killian a pirate, fixating on the more romanticized and white-washed aspects of such characters, but Killian knew he'd done his fair share of pillaging and plundering in this god-forsaken town to earn him just such a moniker - or worse.

It was with that trepidation - Henry's absence that day might be because the lad had finally come to his senses about the company he keeps - that Killian found himself once again in the corner booth of The Rabbit Hole, nursing his bottle of rum with a new demon added to the haunting. As Killian contemplated this new demon added to the fold, he realized there were a number of new and strange occurrences that day, other than just the additional specter. Henry missing the bus and peddling down Main Street. Henry missing their afternoon lesson. And that flash of yellow he'd caught out of the corner of his eye as he'd turned towards The Hole, a flash of yellow that had disappeared when he'd looked back to see whose car it was. He can't remember ever seeing a vehicle of that shade before.

These notions were still plaguing him the next morning as he made his way to Granny's once again, with new thoughts to add to his musings.

Parking his motorcycle out front, Killian made his way into the diner for a quick breakfast. The Sheriff had contacted him first thing that morning about the damage to the town sign, a 'gift' he'd donated to the town long ago. After his meal, he planned to meet Marco, Storybrooke's handyman, out there, to discuss the repair costs. It seemed, however, that fortune would save him that trek out to the town line, as the man in question was currently conversing with the town shrink in one of the diner's booths.

Killian approached the pair, but then hesitated as he heard Henry's name mentioned.

"I saw him late last night. He said he'd been on a field trip and forgot to tell me, but I know that isn't true… then there was that strange woman with him. Henry said she was-"

"Can we help you, Mr. Jones?" Marco interrupted, cutting off his friend's concern about the boy.

No matter, though. The lad was safe, and that was all that mattered to Killian. Whether he'd been honest about the field trip or not, Killian was bolstered by the fact that it hadn't just been him that Henry had avoided yesterday. Whatever was going on with the lad didn't seem to have anything to do with Killian personally, and he was sure he'd get the full story from Henry later that day, now that he knew the lad wasn't avoiding him.

"Aye, Marco," Killian answered as he pulled up a seat to join the men - much to their dismay. "The Sheriff phoned me this morning about the accident at the town sign. Have you been out to survey the damage yet this morning?"

"Not yet, Mr. Jones," the old man answered nervously. "I was heading out there just after breakfast. You'll be joining me, I assume?"

"I'm a busy man, Marco. I've no time for these trivial matters, so let's you and I come to an agreement here and now, shall we?" He posed the question, though he did not wait for the man's agreement before he continued. "I will pay cost for all the supplies and materials, and my usual flat rate for the labor. I expect the work to be done by week's end or a twenty percent discount will be applied to the final bill. Do we have a deal?" For some reason that last word made Killian cringe internally. It always had.

"W-week's end?" Marco stammered incredulously. "Mr. Jones, sir, I cannot possibly have the sign fixed by-"

"Oh, I have faith in you Marco," Killian offered in mocked support. "It's either that, or I amend the lease agreement that's about to come due on your shop. What do you say? Ten, fifteen percent increase in rent?"

"Now, Mr. Jones, be reasonable," Dr. Hopper interjected.

"I don't think this concerns you, mate," Killian countered darkly. "But if you'd like to talk about the terms of your particular lease agreement, I'm only too happy to oblige."

The men sat silent before him, bested and helpless against such power and authority.

Killian offered them an empty smile as he stood and took his leave. "Pleasure as always, mates," he called out over his shoulder exiting the diner. The thought of breakfast was long forgotten as he started his motorcycle and headed towards the docks.

Just as he rounded the corner from Main Street to the road leading to the marina, that flash of yellow caught his periphery once more. A yellow Volkswagen was parked in the city impound lot. A yellow Volkswagen that Killian was sure did not belong to anyone residing within Storybrooke. Curious.

Hours later Killian still couldn't shake off the unease and… something else he couldn't quite put his finger on, regarding all the strange occurrences that had happened the past two days. Henry had once again failed to join him on the Jewel, and Killian had resolved to seek out the lad to try and ascertain just what the blazes was going on.

A man could only take so many disruptions to his otherwise orderly existence, after all.

Killian had just crested the berm that overlooked Henry's castle when he saw the lad heading off in the opposite direction with someone. A blonde someone. A female, blonde someone, as a matter of fact.

His brow twitched toward his hairline as he wondered who the woman might be. Even as he mentally thumbed through his mind's rolodex of every blonde lass in town, he knew none quite matched the figure retreating in the distance.

An unexpected conflict rose within Killian. If he didn't know himself better he'd almost call it jealousy. He supposed he ought to be glad the boy had another person in this world that cared for him - if the stranger's arm draped over the lad's shoulders held any indication of such a regard. Though he couldn't help but feel a bit slighted that whatever Henry was facing, he hadn't chosen to confide in him. Unwilling to examine those feelings any further than he already had, or at all, he decided it was the perfect time to call it a day and find his booth in the dark corner of The Rabbit Hole, with a bottle or two to keep him company, and the demons at bay.

Emma watched as Henry ran past Regina, going inside and disappearing upstairs.

"He seems to have taken quite a shine to you," Regina said, with a vapid smile and an insincere air of civility.

"You know what's kind of crazy?" Emma began, overwhelmed by the events of the last twenty-four hours, and trying to make sense of this curve ball life had thrown her way. "Yesterday was my birthday, and when I blew out the candle on this cupcake I bought myself, I actually made a wish. I wished I didn't have to be alone on my birthday. And then, Henry showed up." Emma stuck her hands in her back pockets and settled back onto her heels, as she continued to ponder the coincidence of Henry's timing.

"I hope there's no misunderstanding here," Regina commented, pulling Emma from her thoughts.

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't mistake all this as an invitation back into his life."

"Oh…"

"Miss Swan, you made a decision ten years ago. And in the last decade, while you've been… well, who knows what you've been doing."

Regina's thinly veiled speculation and disapproval caused Emma's brows to shoot up in offense.

"I've changed every diaper. Soothed every fever. Endured every tantrum. You may have given birth to him, but he is my son."

"I wasn't…"

"No!" Regina interrupted harshly. "You don't get to speak. You don't get to do anything. You gave up that right when you tossed him away. Do you know what a closed adoption is? It's what you asked for. You have no legal right to Henry and you're going to be held to that. So, I suggest you get in your car, and you leave this town. Because if you don't, I will destroy you if it is the last thing I do. Goodbye, Miss Swan." Turning on her stilettoed heel, Regina headed back to the house, but Emma called after her before she managed to shut the door.

"Do you love him?"

"Excuse me?" Regina looked up with a sneer on her perfectly painted face.

"Henry. Do you love him?"

"Of course I love him."

Emma Swan hadn't been given much in her life, but one thing she'd come to rely on was her gift of sensing when someone was lying to her. She called it her superpower and although it wasn't pinging per se, something about this entire interaction, hell, this entire town, just wasn't sitting right with her. With Regina all but shutting the door in her face, effectively ending their conversation, Emma got back in the bug and pulled away from the curb.

Oh great, a headache, I'm too sober for this shit, she thought sardonically as she tried to remember the way back to the one bar she'd seen in town.

As Emma was driving down Main Street, she took in the names of a few of the businesses she passed on her way to the bar. "Game of Thorns, Dark Star Pharmacy, Any Given Sundae, where in hell have I landed myself?" she muttered. Finally, reaching her destination, she looked up at the decrepit sign attached to the side of the building, "The Rabbit Hole, seriously? Well, this town does seem to be on drugs, why not shrooms, too?" Parking her bug in the lot out back Emma decided to go in and see about that drink.

Upon first glance the place was dark and kind of dank. With a rowdy group near the pool tables, she made a beeline for the far end of the bar, to a corner slightly more shadowed than the rest. Thankfully she wasn't even completely situated on her barstool before the bartender was asking her, "What's your poison sweetheart?"

"Rum, straight up, make it a double."

"Oooh, the lady knows what she likes… I like it."

"Not interested Romeo, just pour the drink, or I'll get it myself."

"Feisty. Well, if I can do you for anything else sweetheart, just yell for me. Name's Will."

Seated in the far corner of the bar, Killian nursed his nightly rum. He sat in the same booth as always, the one with the burnt out bulb that never seemed to get replaced, but Killian didn't mind, he found solace in the rum and darkness.

He'd been brooding in his seat for the better part of an hour when the door swung open admitting what could only be an angel; at least, that's what the more fanciful part of his brain perceived as the setting sun illuminated an almost ethereal glow around her golden tresses and continued the aura down the length of her lithe body. Curiosity piqued, he watched as the beautiful blonde walked in and situated herself on the barstool closest to his booth.

Killian was certain he had never seen her before, certain he could never forget a woman that beautiful. But, nobody comes to Storybrooke, ever. Who is this woman and what has brought her here to me? To me? What the bloody hell has gotten into me? Killian continued to study her over the rim of his glass as she sat and ordered a rum, not taking any of Will's shite, and giving it right back as good as she got. Smirking to himself, Killian decided he just might like this tough lass.

Emma nursed her rum while thinking about everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, from Henry finding her in Boston, to the car ride back to Storybrooke, Maine. I mean Storybrooke, come on… When her mind landed on Regina and her threats, the subtle, and not so subtle, Emma slammed back the rest of her drink and signaled Will, the smart ass bartender, for another. When he brought her the next round he had the decency to keep the innuendo to himself.

So absorbed in her mental back and forth about what would be best for Henry - should she stay, should she go - Emma didn't realize someone had slid onto the barstool next to her, until they cleared their throat. Startled, she looked up and was overcome by the man before her, in a word, Emma was fuckstruck. Who knew that was an actual thing? she mused, this man is gorgeous.

"Didn't mean to intrude love, but did I happen to see you with the Mill's lad on the beach earlier?"

Fuck me, an accent too? Wait… what's he want with Henry? "Possibly. Why would it be any concern of yours?" As she asked, she sized up the stranger next to her, who seemed a touch too interested in Henry for her comfort. He was the gorgeous, dark, and brooding type, all leather clad with charms on a chain around his neck. Is that an anchor, and a compass? A couple of rings adorned the fingers of both hands, with a notably vacant left ring finger... How is this man single? Guyliner? He really is going for the bad boy persona isn't he, and... it works for him… get it together, Emma. As she finished her assessment of her tall, dark, and accented bar fellow her eyes made their way back to his face, noting the lifted eyebrow, and unrestrained smirk.

"I'm sorry. What?"

"Something pique your interest there, lass?"

Emma rolled her eyes at his attempted flirting.

"As I said. Henry's a good lad, and he's been having a rough go of it lately. I've been concerned about him."

"And how does someone like…" Emma waved the hand unoccupied by her current drink up and down to encompass his person, "you, know Henry?"

"Small town lass, everyone knows everyone, yet, I don't know you," the man stated with a teasing quirk of his brow.

Emma smirked at his response, and the ploy to get her name. "That's because I'm not from around here. Actually, I'm Henry's birth mom." Slightly uncomfortable at her unexpected admission to this handsome stranger, Emma decided it was a good idea to gulp down about half of her still mostly full drink. Why did I tell him that?

"Ah. I see. I take it the boy found you, and persuaded you to come here?" Killian pressed, even as he tried to hide his astonishment that the boy had actually taken his advice on the matter.

Knowing how miserable Henry had been recently, working himself up into believing that his entire life was the result of some sort of curse, Killian had suggested learning more about his beginnings, as it might offer him some solace. Good advice it seemed, if the evidence of such a lovely creature before him was any indication.

"Something like that. I just brought him back, it's not like I'm staying."

"Now that is a shame…"

"Really? You've known me all of two minutes, how do you know that Henry isn't better off with me gone?"

"Because love, I've seen his upbringing thus far, and it leaves much to be desired."

The lass's face crumpled at that revelation. "I had hoped when I gave him up he'd have a great life," she confessed in a despondent tone.

"Well, you're here now, what say you? A toast? To Henry, and giving the lad his best chance?"

Emma was taken aback by his choice of words. Hearing her justification parroted back to her by a stranger, had her reeling as she heard him continue, "I'm happy the lad has another person in town in his corner."

"Who says I'm staying?" Emma bit out somewhat harshly.

He just gave her a knowing smirk, "If you weren't you'd have left by now."

Emma crossed her arms defensively over her chest as she retorted, "Oh, really? You think you know me so well?"

"Well, love. You are something of an open book."

"Ugh. If I never hear another word about books it'll be too soon."

"Oh? Would you be referring to the lad's story book then… and the curse?"

Emma looked back at him with a critical eye and wondered who Henry believed this cursed man really was.

Wait, no, there isn't a curse. "You really don't seem cursed to me."

"Well love, you've only known me a few minutes, give it some time, and you'll probably change your mind."

"I can tell you what cursed is," she muttered with a hint of self depreciation and loneliness in her voice.

"Not having someone." She heard him say.

Emma's eyes snapped to his and she saw a spark of recognition at the loneliness she had been attempting to tamp down ever since she blew out that stupid birthday candle.

"That's the worst curse of all, isn't it?" he finished, and the look that broke across her face must have cemented to him that he'd hit his mark with his words as he offered her an empathetic smile.

She gaped at him realizing just how painfully accurate that statement truly was. That realization made her think that this could be her chance to finally have someone want her, Henry came looking for her after all. They both sat there for a moment, introspectively, before Emma finally spoke, "Can I get you another drink Mr.?"

"Where are my manners? We haven't been formally introduced. Jones. Killian Jones," he offered, hand extended before him, which she accepted as she replied.

"Swan. Emma Swan."

Killian felt his grip tighten slightly around her hand as something inside him shifted, and without coherent thought as to why, he heard himself declare, "Emma. What a lovely name," even as visions overtook him. Visions that told of another life - his life - and brought forth a surge of panic that he quickly tried to squelch as Emma looked for Will to order them another round.

"Actually, love, I'm afraid I must decline," he said, hastily leaving his seat.

"Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," he assured quickly, not wishing to appear as if anything was amiss. "I've just remembered… something, and I want to see to it before I forget again."

"Alright, well… see you around, Jones." She flashed him a smile that confirmed her decision to stick around for a while.

"Aye. Welcome to Storybrooke, love." Killian managed to offer the sentiment with a reasonable amount of genuineness before he exited the bar, but as he met the brisk night air panic enveloped him once more. Attempting to calm his racing pulse and labored breathing, Killian looked up into the night sky and noticed an astonishing sight.

It now read 8:16 on the clock tower.