A/N - To address some remarks that I've recently had. This is not a conventional in its portrayal of Snowing, or Captain Swan for that matter. I've taken the partnerships and changed them in a few ways that aren't usually used in the fandom. This is a choice I've made with the hope of being able to create something a little different.

Can I ask if you do enjoy it, do let me know with a like, or reblog, kudos' or reviews. It all means a lot to me.

22 October, 2016

'Dad?'

The word left Emma's voice as a whisper while she sunk into a chair. Her heart pumped erratically with tears starting to form in the corner of her eyes. She pressed the corner of her eyes willing herself to calm when the door swung open. Emma looked up as Killian crossed the threshold with a tilted expression of concern.

'You looked vexed,' he said as his eyes passed over the scene.

He perched on the table, reaching out to her. She twined her fingers with his, coaxing a smile from her lips as she shifted closer. Killian pulled her into arms, his other hand resting on the base of her spine. Emma took a moment to breathe him in, soaking in the comfort his nearness provides her with.

'What happened?' His voice is soft against her temple.

Emma dragged in a deep breath, pulling away from him to meet his gaze. The blue of his eyes seem dark in their concern. sShe tried to give him a reassuring smile while stroking his jaw, the soft hair of his scruffy warm to touch.

'All this just got me thinking,' she said, looking down at where their hands were still joined.

His fingers ran up her arm. Emma rested her forehead on his shoulder as the torrent of unexplained emotions attacked her. She pulled back again. Peering into his eyes looking for that bit of strength she lacked to bring the words to the fore. She glanced back to the silent ham.

'Come on,' Killian said quietly.

He didn't let go of her hand as he tugged her along, pulling up the stairs to the porch and into the kitchen. Henry was still up, his thumbs tapping furiously on the control of his PS4 while muttering under his breath about eleven-year-old infidels.

'Five more minutes,' she called in his direction while Killian went about making hot chocolate on the stove.

He was a coffee man, but after the last two years of dating then living together, he was well taught in the art of making her favored drink. She set herself down at the breakfast bar, leaning into it on her forearms as she watched Killian work. Normally as salacious smirk would form on her lips as she admired him but her mind was gone until a hot foaming drink appeared in front of her topped with cinnamon.

Behind her, Henry shut off his console and gave them a hasty goodnight. He had long grown out of giving her a kiss goodnight, a fact she sometimes mourned now he was old. She called after him then looked back at the drink as the cinnamon became dark brown as it was saturated with liquid. Killian waited, glancing up the stairs as Henry's footfall landed on the highest floor. He looked around, coming around to sit on the stool beside her. He waited as she took a sip and wiped the foam from the top of her lip. She sucked her thumb as Killian raised an eyebrow for her. She shook her head.

Killian waited, glancing up the stairs as Henry's footfall landed on the highest floor. He looked around, coming around to sit on the stool beside her. He waited as she took a sip and wiped the foam from the top of her lip. She sucked her thumb as Killian raised an eyebrow for her. She shook her head.

'It started working,' she told him.

He held up his hands. 'After you said stop I…'

Emma placed her hand on his wrist. 'I know,' she said. 'It just kinda started working after I was clearing up in there earlier.' She gave him a reassuring smile. 'The guy on the other end was chatting Ball, commiserating the Pirate's loss but not before they tossed the Yankee's around the park.' She sighed. 'Reminded me of my dad.'

Upstairs the door clicked again. She sighed. 'He was my best friend, you know?'

Killian nodded, his expression sad. Their fingers twined back together. Killian gave her a comforting squeeze.

'He was everything to me, the sun, the moon…' she chuckled off the end of the sentence. 'Used to drive my mom insane. But then he went undercover. They tried to make it work. They had always been ridiculously in love but six months turned into "just another three" time and again until Mom couldn't take it anymore. He used to leave me presents in a coffee can after that. Another thing to drive mom insane. Then he died. It was, uh, twenty years ago tomorrow.

'Shootout. Narco dragged him out of the boot of a car. It had been rolled into the docks.'

Emma pulled her hand free from Killian and ran it through her hair as she looked away. Her engagement ring tugged on a small knot that had formed in the long strands. 'He was dirty,' she whispered. 'In too deep, forgot which side he was on…'Silence stretched out in the nooks of the old house, filling it unbearably with a story she had long tried together. Memories she had tried to quash out of her system escaped and flooded the halls of the very house in which most of it was acted out in the first place. Killian didn't move as Emma sipped more of the cooling chocolate, but as she reached the bottom, he finally moved.

The silence stretched out in the nooks of the old house, filling it unbearably with a story she had long tried together. Memories she had tried to quash out of her system escaped and flooded the halls of the very house in which most of it was acted out in the first place. Killian didn't move as Emma sipped more of the cooling chocolate, but as she reached the bottom, he finally moved. He stepped down and moved around so he was behind her before wrapping his arms around her. She felt his lips press a kiss to her hair. 'That is the most you've ever told me about him.'

He stepped down and moved around so he was behind her before wrapping his arms around her. She felt his lips press a kiss to her hair. 'That is the most you've ever told me about him.''Yeah…' she whispered. 'I dunno, it still hurts.'

''Course it does.'

23 October, 2016

The night passed in a quiet haze as Emma settled into Killian's embrace with red wine and soft music playing from the CD player. Their conversation turned her mother's suggestion earlier in the day that they should have a party to celebrate their engagement. Between the two of them, they were sure the turn out would be a significantly large one. The conversation ended in Emma suggesting they just elope to city hall with Henry in toe and go before a judge. The conversation ended in the bed, much the same as the previous night had as they explored each other under the warm sheets of the bed.

However, when dawn erupted, bringing a slew of promised rain thoughts of her father settled in her belly. She walked out to her study. As a child, it had been her room and overlooked the patch in the garden where David Swan would leave her gifts. The damp earth made the place look freshly churned but it could not be so. She hugged herself and continued to stare.

A thirteen-year-old girl who refused to believe that a little stars and stripe flag would never again flutter on a pile of mud stood in her stead.

The phone in Emma's pocket vibrated, shocking her out of the melancholy thoughts. Graham Humbert's voice filled the line telling her they had an ID at the morgue. The recently exhumed body had raised some questions as the homicide team waited out the autopsy. Despite it being a Sunday, she knew she had to get over there.

The familiar smell of pancakes and bacon filled the house. Emma reached the bottom of the stairs to find Killian filling Henry's plate with the first cooked batch.

'Hey,' she said, falsely cheerful, opening the cupboard where she stashed pop tarts for morning emergencies. 'I've just had a call about my body,' she said as she put two in the toaster. 'Gonna need to head in for the morning. I'll drop in on my nanna alone. You know how it goes…'

Killian nodded. 'Aye, the later we leave the more chance we have of bumping into the esteemed Lieutenant,' he said with a grimace. 'Got it in one, Captain,' she said. 'I just don't want another one of his scenes in front of Henry again.'

'Got it in one, Captain,' she said. 'I just don't want another one of his scenes in front of Henry again.' 'Of course,' he said as the

'Of course,' he said as the pop tarts came out the toaster.

He saw her out to the porch. Under the roof that shielded the front doors and window from rain, Killian pulled her to him. His fingers gently explored her cheek and jaw as his eyes turned to a shade of concern. She leaned into the touch with a smile.

'You call me later,' he said, before pressing a kiss to her lips.

She nodded as she pushed up onto her tiptoes to claim his lips. His kiss was gentle, his arm coming around to hold her close.

'I'll see you later, Swan,' he said as she pulled away to dash for the car.

The drive across town was an easy one, that early on a rainy Sunday. She made it to the Memorial Hospital in less than forty-five minutes and parked up in a space designated for officers visiting the morgue. She was through to Victor Whale's basement den with the flash of her badge. As a homicide detective, she was well known here. The action was more habit than necessity.

'Okay, Swan,' said Whale, quickly switching the screen off on his computer and getting to his feet. 'Your body.'

'You dye your hair?' she asked, provoking an unconscious tick as Whale pushed a hand through it as he walked to his stash of gloves.

He ignored the jibe as he snapped on some latex gloves, and continued as if she hadn't spoken. 'Looking early thirties at the latest, and dumped in the marsh between eighteen and twenty-one years ago. As I was checking her over, I noticed something and got on the phone to my predecessor, Doctor Henry Hyde.'

'You ask others for help?' she deadpanned. 'Did he give you a verdict on the hair as well?'

This time he pulled a face at her. 'Yes, and no, he wasn't so forthcoming. Now, I called the old man because when I mentored under him he went on about some old case twenty years go; a fledgling serial killer who had quite the distinctive calling card.' He went back to a kidney dish sat on a trolley behind him.

Emma had noticed it, but not paid too much attention. While she could look at a body in situ, there was something about this basement that set her on edge. She pushed her hands into her pockets and curled her them into fists as Whale produced two sets of rosary beads.

'One was bound around the wrist,' he explained, holding them out in her direction. 'The other around the ankles.'

She could feel her face twisting as Whale handled the dirty beads. The clicked together.

'Ritual?'

'Not that anyone was aware of,' said Whale pouring the beads back into the kidney bowl. 'They called him the "Nightingale Killer".'

'Sure, I've heard of him,' replied Emma with a shrug. 'Targeted Elementary teachers. Her used rosaries?'

Whale pulled the gloves off. 'According to Hyde. The information wasn't made public, and you won't hear of it in your police training. But all three victims were the same.'

Emma frowned looking at the skeleton on the table, stepping forward with a grim sense of renewed interest. 'Maybe there were four,' she mused. She looked up at Whale. 'Thanks, Doc.'

He nodded. 'And I noted congratulations were in order?' he said, looking at where her hand sat in her jacket pocket.

She pulled her hand out to look at the ring. 'Yeah,' she said, her smile morphing. 'Thanks.'

The archive box she had called in for was on Emma's desk by the time she arrived in Downtown. On a Sunday morning, the team could only be described as skeletal. She gave her fellows a warm smile with Belle calling out her congratulations as she poured over her case work. Despite it all, Emma could not help the warmth she felt as she showed off her ring to the younger detective. Belle gushed for a moment, with a query as to when the big day would occur before letting Emma get on her way.

The box on Emma's desk had not been touched in some time. She ran her finger through the dust that had accumulated on the top. Emma peered at the box. The date made her frown, but she opened the box, spluttering slightly as she inhaled the twenty-year-old dust.

The department had been working on a program to digitalise the old files but cutbacks meant they would be lucky to get to ninety-six before the end of the century. The paperwork was covered in familiar signatures. As she sorted through the paper her eyes fell on Captain Humbert's signature on several occasions. The old manilla files began to stack up on her desk, sorted by the victim in the order of their bodies being found with a singular sheet for her Jane Doe at the end.

Her phone buzzed. Emma pulled the device out of her pocket to see a message from Killian. His casual curiosity as to how it was going was double speak for asking how long she was going to be. They had plans to celebrate their engagement with Henry and her mother in the afternoon. If the medical examiner came back with a name for their victim, however, that plan would be nixed. She put as much in her text, leaving off that the victim may have been part of an unsolved serial killer case, knowing it would only worry him.

It was barely eleven when she was done, content that she'd be able to get through it come the morning.

Ruth Swan lived in a gated community for the retired in Golden Heights. Her apartment looked over the beach the district was named for. Emma found the aging matriarch of the small Swan family sat in a rocking chair in the midst of knitting a blanket on the porch as the sky tried to clear. The soft click of needles stopped when she looked up to see her only grandchild at the bottom of the steps. Her crinkled face rose with a smile.

'Your mother called,' she said, setting aside the work with a soft clatter on the wooden table. 'I hear that lovely young man has finally put a ring on your finger.'

Emma held out her hand for Ruth to examine. The old woman perched the glasses that had hung from beads around her neck. Her crinkled hand enclosed hers as she laughed with the sort of delight only old ladies could muster.

'Of course, back in my day, you didn't live with him before you marry,' she said.

'Might explain the Generation X infidelity streak,' she deadpanned as she sat next to her.

The old woman chuckled. 'Maybe,' she agreed.

Emma lapsed into silence, gazing out over the dying riot of colour Ruth cultivated from Spring until Autumn. Ruth hummed to herself as she picked up the knitting needles. The scratch of metal was oddly comforting.

'It's always a hard day,' she said after a lengthy silence between them. 'You're Da would have proud, you know. Detective with Sergeant on the horizon and a fiancé who treats you like a Princess.' Ruth smiled fondly.

Emma looked away, shying from Ruth's compliment of Killian.

'He does,' she insisted. 'You and Henry. If I didn't know any better, you'd think they were father and son.'

Emma's embarrassed smile morphed into a warm one. 'Yeah,' she said softly, then glanced at Ruth. 'Nana, do you think Dad got in too deep.'

Silence again filled the space bar for the click of needles. 'Yes,' she answered as a car swung into the street. 'But I don't think he forgot which side of the line he was on.' The car came to a halt. 'He loved you and Snow more than anything in this world. He would never have forgotten that.'

Emma drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair as Lieutenant James Swan, Emma's uncle and her father's older twin, emerged from the car. As Lieutenant of a neighbouring precinct, Lieutenant Swan was well respected if a little feared. He had mentored her when she had been a beat cop before she made Detective; a move he didn't seem to approve of particularly when she was placed under Captain Graham Humbert.

'If anyone had said the same of James though…' she trailed off as the man in question pulled off a pair of aviators of and tucked them into his pocket.

Emma's gaze moved to her uncle. She often wondered if her father had survived what sort of man James would have been, but the way Snow once put it, he was already on his own path. He strode to the house, eyes falling on Emma as he mounted the steps to the porch.

'Hello Emma,' he said, his eyes looking over her. The coolness was enough to freeze over the space between them. 'I didn't expect you here.'

'Nonsense,' said Ruth rebuking his nonsense. 'It was her birthday two days ago, and I told you she was visiting today.'

James shook his head and walked into the apartment, the door clattering shut behind him as Ruth rolled her eyes. 'It's always antsy on this day,' she said by way of explanation.

'We all are,' Emma replied as she got to her feet. 'I really have to head back, Nana,' she said as she bent to press a kiss to Ruth's cheek. 'We're having lunch with Mom, and I've already had to leave those boys to their own devices since this morning.'

'Such is the job,' said Ruth, as she got to her feet. 'But wait here a moment. You can't think I forgot to get you a little something, can you?'

Emma huffed out a laugh as she followed the old woman into her home. She stood in the living room as Ruth bustled off into the bedroom. She turned her back on James who had already helped himself to the whiskey and sat on the sofa.

'You shouldn't really be here,' he said in a sharp voice. 'You always remind her of him.'

The strange jealousy that always tinted his voice when David Swan was mentioned curled around his words. Emma frowned and looked down at her tan leather clad feet. It always courted her mind as odd that Lieutenant Swan would show envy towards his supposedly dirty cop brother who left a trail of death and heartache in his wake.

Before Emma could counter with anything, Ruth reappeared with a small wrapped package. 'It isn't much,' she declares.

When it's opened, it is a small, slightly tarnished, silver spoon that had been a Christening gift to her father. She looks at it for a moment. If she's honest with herself, it was a tradition she hoped would never have to apply to her. But as James has never felt the need to procreate, Emma is the only grandchild Ruth has ever had and it's important to her.

'For the wedding,' Ruth says.