„Our galaxy is filled with stars, but we shouldn't forget about our closest one, the sun. Every day we orbit this radiant ball of gas and fire but how many times a day do we really appreciate its daily gifts to us? That said, I hope, the next time you think about stars, it won't be limited to the beauty of the night sky, but also to the magnificence that is our sun – perhaps during your next sunbathe," Killian winked at a middle-aged woman who bashfully laughed about the charming joke, along with some other guests. "Thank you, see you next time," he said, finishing his Journey to the Stars-tour at the museum.

He loved his job more than he loved anything, but today he thanked God that this was his last tour of the day. All he wanted to do was to go home and take a cool shower, hoping that the cold water would banish his thoughts for a little while, at least. In some ways, Killian had grown used to the blonde ghost that had haunted him for the past week; she had become a strange constant in his recent life and seeing her face every night in his dreams almost gave him a feeling of security, in an odd and twisted way. These new thoughts that occupied his mind, though, were from an entire different kind. He hadn't slept half of the night, reading the book Henry had given him. He had skipped most of the parts, but the story about Peter Pan and the Jones brothers intrigued him the most, a weird feeling of an anxious curiosity accompanying it.

'Jewel of the Realm', 'Dreamshade', 'Magic Bean', 'The Dark One' – these words had circled his mind all day long, but he couldn't find any relation to them; though the ring to those syllables seemed strangely familiar. It felt like having a painful déjà vu where you just know you've been there before but you can't put the pieces together; your mind is searching, desperately, but you simply cannot remember the connection. Killian felt overwhelmed with these new kinds of feelings that he failed to comprehend.

Why would his body tense to the word 'dagger'? Why would he feel a slight twitch in his chest whenever the story mentioned a woman named 'Milah' or a boy named 'Baelfire'? Why would the inner corner of his eyes start burning whenever the book mentioned a captain with whom he shared the same last name; Liam Jones? He's never known people with those names before, why would his body react to them? But the most important question was, why was he in the book? It wasn't just his name that appeared on those pages, it was his very face, as well. Exact drawings of his facial features captured entire pages of this fairy tale book. None of this made sense and it almost drove him mad to think about it any further. The list of questions was endless and his mind didn't give him a single break. Killian wished for a drink to ease this hazy ache inside of his head, but he had stopped drinking a long time ago. Instead he just hoped that some fresh air would do the magic and help him to clear his mind.

When he made it home, Killian instantly jumped in the shower, welcoming the cool drizzle calming his skin. He felt an instant relief as soon as the water met his body, but Killian feared that the calm state of his mind wouldn't last for too long. Did he really want this? A life filled with nightmares and paranoia? Sure, on the one hand he wanted to figure it all out, the mystery of what once seemed impossible. But on the other hand, Killian wasn't very convinced about a good outcome for him, anymore. The last week left him confused and mystified with its events and even though it tickled his curiosity, Killian hadn't much energy left to deal with possibilities any longer. This book simply drove him mad, bit by bit. The drops fell down his head, their drumming reminding him of a morse code, and he realized that there was only one way to move on.

He turned off the water and wrapped himself into a towel, before he went to his laundry, searching for a special pair of jeans. When he found it, his fingers sought its pockets.

"There you are," he whispered, looking at a piece of paper, a row of numbers scribbled on it. Killian took his phone, dialing the number. It ringed as he waited.

"Hello?" It was a female voice. Killian hesitated for a second.

"Hi, the name's Killian Jones, can I speak to Henry, please?" Silence.

"Henry's not home."

"That's too bad, I have to… restore something." Killian could hear her silent breath against the phone; she was thinking.

"Why don't you just come over, anyways, it won't be too long until Henry's back."

"Uh, yeah, all right. Yet, I need the address."

"I'll text it to you. Don't be late." And then she hung up.

Killian blinked. Did this really just happen? He stared at the screen of his phone, as if he was wishing for any confirmation... as if things weren't complicated and confusing enough already; Killian sighed. He was hoping to see this woman again since that hasty moment he had briefly glimpsed her on the streets and now it had happened, they had talked to each other and- Killian's thoughts got interrupted by the vibration of his phone. A text message had arrived. He took a deep breath, then opened it.

"483 Columbus Avenue, apartment 311."

Killian raised his head, his eyes looking out to the wide sky; he had found her.

-.-.-.-.-

He felt his pulse echo in his ears as his right hand gently knocked at the door of apartment 311. He took a deep breath, his head bent down slightly, his fingers clenching and flexing in a rhythmic way. A nervous haze reached his stomach while he heard the footsteps coming closer. Killian had waited for this moment, even though he had tried not to, his subconsciousness had done it anyways. He had hoped to see her one more time and now it was finally happening; he would find out who this doppelganger really was; the woman who resembled the ghost of his dreams.

Killian took another breath and the door opened. When he raised his head, doubt and hope both resting in his eyes, his lashes started to flutter as soon as his iris tried to focus on the woman in the doorway. It took the fraction of a second to adjust his eyes to the light that shone from behind her, to really see her; just one beat of his heart, in which the dark shadow in front of him transformed into a person with smooth waves of silky blonde hair, a soft line of a delicate nose and the intensity of vividly jade-colored eyes; it was her, there was not a single doubt. Killian's heart skipped a beat as he smiled.

"Killian Jones, right?" the woman asked and Killian's smile turned into a crooked one.

"Indeed. It's a pleasure," he offered his hand but the woman only raised her eyebrow. Killian took another breath, remembering the reason why he had really come here.

"Is Henry back, by now?"

"Not yet," she answered briefly.

The book was resting in Killian's bag, but he couldn't just hand it to Henry's mother. The boy looked unhappy with the thought of her knowing about it and Killian didn't want to upset his young friend. Instead, his hand wandered to his bag to reveal a football that resembled the one that Henry had brought to the park, the other day. Killian had thought of this alibi, in case that Henry hadn't arrived at home yet.

"I came to return this here to your son. I believe he forgot it when we met at the park."

"Yes, I know about that," she said, her eyes still looking suspicious. "Henry told me." Killian wondered what exactly he had told her that made her look at him this warily.

They remained in their poses for what felt like eternity, her trying to read the stranger's face as if she was searching for something specific in there. But then, just as he was about to abandon the thought, she opened the door a little more, her thumb pointing over her shoulder.

"Would you like to wait inside? I'm sure Henry's about to come home, any second." Killian's mouth opened in surprise, his eyes blinking.

"Yes, thank you, why not." His feet stepped into the apartment a little hesitantly but when he passed her she offered him her hand, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"I'm Emma, by the way. Emma Swan." Killian smiled again.

"Pleased to meet you," he shook her hand. The second they touched, though, he felt a weird shiver run up his arm, making the tiny hairs raise one inch at the time. He shook his head, as if he was trying to shake the thoughts off, as he entered an open-plan kitchen, the living area behind it. Killian didn't know where to sit, whether at the table or on one of the three couches, so he just remained where he was standing until Emma caught up to him.

"Please, take a seat," she gestured to the couches. Killian chose the red one, Emma sat down on the beige one right next to it. His eyes looked around for a second, curious what to find. The room was very open, decorated tastefully and modern. There were some paintings on the walls and something that looked like gigantic handcuffs. The muscles in his right arm twitched for a second, but Killian ignored it.

"So," she raised her brow again, "How did you two meet? My son and you." Oh, Killian thought, now he understood. This wasn't a nice invitation, this was a cross examination.

"Well," he spoke with a steady voice, his eyes on the coffee table, "I work at the Museum of Natural History and sometimes I spend my lunch time at the park or I take a walk around the block." When he looked up, he met Emma's gaze, her arms crossed over her chest.

"One day, I was sitting on a bench close to his school, I suppose, and he came up to me, confident to share one of your Thursday-Specials with me." The corner of his mouth rose a bit and she mirrored it for a second before her eyes started searching again.

"And then you met up at the park?"

"That we did."

"Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why would a grown man meet up with a teenager on a Saturday afternoon? Don't you have friends? Or hobbies?" That was straightforward, Killian thought, he wasn't expecting this. He swallowed, not quite sure how to answer this question without getting Henry into trouble.

"I- He wanted to meet Murdock, so I-"

"Who's Murdock?" she asked, her voice hard as steel.

"That's my neighbor's dog."

"Oh," she leaned back now, "So that's your thing, huh? Baiting the kids with a cute little puppy."

"Come again?" Killian furrowed his forehead; he couldn't quite believe what this woman was accusing him of.

"Oh come on! Don't act all innocent on me, Henry might buy this game that you're playing, but it's not working on me! I'm not a kid!"

"I'm not sure I'm following, Miss Swan."

"Oh, you sure as hell are! You're one of these perverts who woo little kids with candy and puppies or whatever and the next thing you know as a parent is that they find your kid somewhere on the ground of the lake. But your time's up, man, I'm calling the police!" Emma got up, her hand reaching for the phone. But before she could even dial, Killian was next to her, holding her arm with a firm grip. His brows were still furrowed in irritation but his voice didn't shake a bit when he talked to her in a calm voice.

"What are you going to tell them, Emma? That your son talked to a stranger in the park? We both know, that's not going to be enough." Emma's eyes fluttered for a moment, realizing that the man was right. It wasn't enough.

"I know it must be hard to raise a child in this world and I cherish that. There is enough evil out there to haunt any parent's nightly dreams. But I promise you," he stepped a little bit closer, now, almost whispering, his eyes as sincere as possible, "I'm not one of them. No harm will come to your boy, not through me."

Emma's mouth gapped slightly, her eyebrows both raised. There was something in the velvet tone of his voice, in the sweet scent of his skin that felt so familiar, so secure… he was telling her the truth, she was absolutely sure; she had seen it in the earnest depth of his azure eyes. Emma blinked away the amazement and took a deep breath.

Then she finally released herself from Killian's gentle grip, putting the phone back to its place before she cleared her throat, offering him a seat again. He wasn't sure if it was right to stay, but somehow he couldn't make himself leave, yet. After they had sat there in silence for a few minutes, Emma broke the quiet with an apology.

"I'm sorry... I guess I just freaked out. I mean, a stranger who comes out of nowhere and starts meeting up with your 13 year-old son, it's just…" Killian smiled compassionately.

"One can get the wrong impression, I understand completely. We're living in New York City, after all." Emma returned the smile.

"Yeah, I guess so…" She bent forward to cup her face with her hands, before she ran them through her golden hair.

"He changed so much," she shook her head, "And I couldn't figure out what had happened, why he was acting like this. At first I thought it was just puberty, you know, the kid's growing up and all that, but then he started to get really distant and… I don't know, reserved I guess. We always had this great relationship and then, all of a sudden, I'm the worst mother in the world. He stopped talking to me, he refused to spend time with me. The only thing I've caught him doing is sitting in his room to read. He doesn't even wanna tell me what book he's into." Killian pursed his lips.

"It was as if he was living in another world, like, in a dream. I just started to get really worried… And then, one day he comes home and everything's changed. He started to tell me about you and how great you were." Killian couldn't help himself but smile a little, bashful about Henry's admiration.

"And, in my mind, I just freaked out, you know. I mean… what did he see in you that made him his old self again?" Emma met his gaze, but she didn't find any answers there. Killian thought about a good response, but he couldn't find one. Instead, he simply shrugged, genuine compassion on his face.

"Boys at his age tend to have a changing temper, I suppose." Emma nodded, and Killian noticed a shade of resignation in her eyes. With that sad look upon her face, she resembled the woman of his dreams more than ever. But she didn't just look sad, he figured, she looked kind of exhausted, like an abandoned wolf mother who tried to defend her pup from all the dangers of the woods, all by herself. Security and love was all too rare in her life, he could read it in her face.

Killian looked across the room, an idea coming to his mind. He wasn't sure how she was going to react to this, but he couldn't stop himself from asking her, anyways.

"Would you mind, if I used your kitchen for a second?"

"I… guess not?" Emma's confusion was written all over her face, what was this all about, now? For a moment she questioned her superpower but Killian remained mysterious. He jumped up to go right into the kitchen, confident that this was a good idea. It took him a little longer than usual, since he had to find all the ingredients first, but when he was done, he was quite pleased with himself. He returned to the couches, placing two cups of hot cocoa on the coffee table. Emma's mouth fell open, yet again.

"Hot cocoa?"

"Never fails," Killian smiled, the sense of sweet victory on his lips. Emma's stunned mouth transformed into a huge smile before she took a sip.

"Mhm," the back of her hand touched her lips, "How did you know?" Killian shook his head.

"What do you mean?"

„Cinnamon."

„Oh… Not your flavor?"

"No, that's totally my flavor, but that's the thing, how did you know?" Killian shrugged, he honestly didn't have a clue. He wasn't even aware of the fact that he had added it to the drink.

"I don't know, it was a lucky guess, I supposed. The cinnamon pot was just standing there and I must've added it without further reflection. I'm sorry, I should've asked-"

"No, no, it's totally fine," she smiled, "I love it." Killian smiled back. For a moment it felt like time stood completely still. His dreams, his questions, his fears; none of it mattered. For a moment, it was just them, in the here and now. Their bodies remained motionless; stuck somewhere in the gap between their heart beats. Other than in his dreams, this was the first time he had met her, yet it felt as if their bodies had encountered before. There was this strange connection between them, an understanding that didn't require words. In this fleeting moment of the weightlessness between the strokes of a clock, both of their souls could feel it, an oddly familiar spark they exchanged. For just a blink of an eye, the fibers of their bodies were tethered to one another, as if dozens of invisible ropes pulled them closer, their hooks sunken in the other one's flesh. It was as if every single one of their cells longed for their opposite's presence, ached for their proximity.

Their gazes were locked on each other and Killian couldn't help but get lost in her eyes, her pure and emerald eyes. They reflected the light in a way that made her iris sparkle in all the colors of the spring. Like a field of shamrocks covering the hills, like the highest forests and the widest hills; their green was so vivid, so rich - it reminded him of home…

Killian felt like awakening yet from another dream, when the sound of his phone startled him. Emma took a sip of her cocoa, watching him curiously.

He checked the screen, it was Larry. The nervousness rose inside of him, he didn't expect him to call this quickly. While Killian hesitated to answer the call, overwhelmed by the possibilities that awaited him, he felt Emma's persistent gaze on him. He took a deep breath before he finally answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Hi Larry, what happened? Did you," Killian turned his head a little away from Emma, "manage it?"

"Yeah, I found him," Killian swallowed hard, his heart pounding against his chest. "But I need you to come here, I can't leave."

"O-okay, I'll be there in a second. Are you in the archives?"

"Where the hell else would I be? Yeah, I'm in the archives. Bring something to eat." Killian heard the busy signal, Larry had hung up on him. Usually he would be annoyed by that kind of rudeness, but he was too nervous to care.

"Everything okay?" Emma asked him and Killian blinked a few times before he answered.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine. I just," he got up, "got to go, they need me at work."

"This late?" Emma didn't buy it and he couldn't blame her; he's never been the best liar before.

"Yeah, it's an archive emergency."

"Hm," Emma raised a brow, but she didn't ask any further. Killian took his bag, quickly sliding the book under the couch without Emma noticing it. When he almost reached the door, he turned around, looking into Emma's jade eyes for a very last time.

"Thank you," he said, sincerity in it. Emma was surprised about his gratitude.

"For what?"

"For believing me." She smiled.

"Actually, I should thank you… not only for the best hot cocoa I had in a while," Killian blushed a little, scratching his ear while he smiled, his eyes directed to the ground, "but also for bringing my son back." When he looked up again, surprise was written all over his face, yet Emma's eyes looked kind and genuine.

"I don't know what's going on between you two, but it makes him happy and that's all that matters." Killian remembered a similar sentence that had left Henry's mouth, not so long ago.

"He makes her happy. That's what matters."

Like mother like son, he thought.

"Maybe he just needs some male idol to look up to," she smiled, teasing him. He returned the smile.

"Yeah, maybe. What about your boyfriend, though? Don't they get along?" Emma blinked, not expecting this question.

"Walsh? Yeah- No- well, they get along pretty well, as far as I'm concerned, but…" She looked at him with the softness of early sun rays kissing the dewdrops of the night, "I can see why he would like you." Killian's lips turned into a crooked smile, his heart beating hard against his chest.

"It's not hard to like him in return." He felt the blood rush into his cheeks but before he could say anything else, he decided that he should leave now.

He left the apartment, his heart feeling heavy and wistful, but right before he turned around the corner, he heard her call his name. He looked over his shoulder, seeing her standing in the doorway.

"Maybe I can return the favor, sometime? With some coffee?" Killian liked the idea.

"Settled," he smiled and then he disappeared from her sight.

-.-.-.-.-

Killian entered the archives of the museum, Larry sitting at his desk in almost complete darkness. There was only one desk lamp right above his head that enlightened the room a little with its fluorescence. Killian placed the pizza right next to his colleague, without even greeting him.

"So, what do you got?" he asked. Larry side-eyed him for a second before he took a peek into the pizza box.

"Hm, salami?"

„Complaints?" Killian leaned against the desk, his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised.

"It's the fifth time this week."

"Well, then I suggest you take a walk outside and buy some food, yourself, mate." Larry snorted, as if Killian made a bad joke about something he'd never do.

"I'm waiting," he started to get impatient, "why did you call me?" Larry took a huge bite from a slice of pizza before he started talking.

"So, I hacked myself into the system of this kid's school, what was his name?"

"Henry."

"Yeah, him. Anyways, after that it was easy as pie, didn't take much time to find," he took another bite, "that other kid, he was still in the class register, they never update those kinda things."

"And?"

"Looks like the kid's an orphan," Killian felt an invisible punch in the gut. "He had to switch his foster care system, he's moved to Philly."

"Did you find out the address?" Larry looked offended.

"What do you think?" Killian rolled his eyes but Larry didn't notice, searching for a piece of paper on his desk.

"Here," his colleague handed him the address. He took a deep breath, his eyes focused on the piece of paper. Then he pushed himself away from the desk, collecting his bag and ready to leave. Without even turning his head around, he said,

"Thanks, mate, I'd say I owe you one, but, well I don't." Even though he didn't look back, he knew that Larry flipped his finger. Wearing a grin on his face, he turned on his heels, looking around the corner.

"And I'm taking the day off, tomorrow." Killian coughed, acting very badly, "I'm so very sick, you're my witness." He heard Larry mumbling something, but at this point, he couldn't care less about him. As he took the stairs and exited the museum, all he could think of was this boy; August. He was the only one who seemed to have any answers, at all and he was one step closer to find him. Killian would get his answers, no matter what. That he was certain of.