A/U There seems to be some questions regarding the last 38 Chapters so – my apologies to everyone else but I feel the need to reply.

1. My apologies if the shampooing/washing habits weren't to your particular standard – they would have only had small opportunities to rinse themselves and just out of curiosity have you ever actually tried washing your hair with soap? I did once in third grade and I don't think my hair has ever been more disgusting afterwards – Emma (because she is from the real world) would know this and prefer oily hair to matted hair – much easier to take care of. As for her clothes – what shall she wear in the meantime while they dry? Would they all just stand around naked for an hour or two while they wait for their clothes to air dry?

2. I wasn't under the impression that 'salty air' had any sort of specific effect on body odour or hair treatment. But, say la vie? I'm sure that means if I stood on the beach for a week straight I would smell fantastic and my hair would be molten gold.

3. Yes, they do go into the stream and don't wash their clothes. Again, did you expect them to dunk their clothes in and then put them back on so they could walk sodden through the forest? That could be fun. But nevertheless, they had limited time and it was a simple luxury afforded to them. Oh, and I'm not an expert on bodies of water – apparently you are – so I'm sorry if I offended you with my incorrect use of terminology.

4. Cora does have healing powers and I'm guessing you are referring to the wound that Hugo inflicted? If so, then I merely meant that the man hit her in the same spot as Emma – sorry if I mislead you.

5. Creative licence dictates I can put him in whatever clothing I want and considering he already wears a leather jacket I think it would suit him. I might put him in a bunny suit in this chapter if I feel like it.

6. Using incorrect vocab? Sorry. And yes, it has many different connotations – I've grown up with two. Trollop can either mean a woman who is promiscuous with her bed activities (if you know what I mean) or along the lines of overthrow [Your lunch trollops my lunch]. As for Daddy Charming, he punched Hook because he walked in on them making out and he's her Dad. Pair that with Killian's typical smug/swagger attitude and you have a protective father.

7. Technically I have Bae as twelve and then fourteen but the only time he's mentioned as fourteen is by Neal and he may or may not actually have the exact age right – it's Neal we're talking about. As for your issue with my method of how they found him I thought magic was too easy and a bit boring so I changed it. Sorry if that bums you out over the nitty gritty details.

8. Just for you, I put in what was in that box in this chapter. As I'm sure I mentioned, Bae and Neal met when August introduced them because August was orphan buddies with Bae. In regards to the age difference, I was not under the impression that there was an age limit between friendships. I should have googled it.

9. Firstly, I put Gold in his fifties. Therefore, since Bae is in his forties, Gold would have to have had him when he was about ten… seem a bit ridiculous to you too? Yeah, that's also what Killian thought – hence why he was confused.

10. Again, creative licence – I thought her hair going black would be a nice symbol of the magic overtaking her considering she is stronger (magically) then Regina and Gold. Regina and Snow's hair is naturally black and Gold controls his magic – Emma couldn't/didn't and it manifested itself inside her. The black hair was also a reference to the Buffy season finale with Willow – her hair turned black as well when the magic overwhelmed her.

11. Killian's a pirate in the modern world – he'd never used a stove before so while he might know how to cook over heat, he doesn't understand the chemistry of pancakes or the mechanics of her stove.

12. Neal's an idiot in this fic – so there's that. As for his job, I always pictured him as some businessman but he took a heap of time off when he got the postcard from August. PG13 reference was a joke… a joke. And Gold never wanted Emma to be with Killian – he just knows the inevitability of it but that doesn't stop him disliking it or trying to roadblock it. And I'm truly sad if you have a problem with my characters. By all means, you can stop reading if you like?

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy reading reviews but I know I'm not a published author so of course I'm not going to write utter perfection. Therefore, to expect utter perfection (shampooing/hair habits and the state of streams/rivers etc.) is slightly ridiculous on your part. Feel free to help me improve but pointing out insignificant things like that is not constructive criticism, it's a put-down. [And not to be snarky but you didn't even capitalize and you're going to go through my work with a fine-tooth comb?]

Sorry to all you other lovely people who had to read my rant, I just felt the need to address that because it kind of struck a chord with me. Moving on! This is the second last-chapter before the last chapter and the epilogue. Enjoy, my lovely beautiful fantastic readers!

Chapter 39: Departure and Forgiveness

Early the next morning, Emma slept in. She had agreed with David that for the next week, she would take the night shift at the station. The arrangement afforded her the unfamiliar ability to sleep in. The blonde kept her eyes closed despite being conscious, revelling in the comfort of her current predicament. The sun had risen and its light was spread evenly across the bed, landing lightly on her face. The sheer curtains dimmed the brightness of the sunshine so, while the room was vaguely illuminated, it was not uncomfortable to be facing the window as Emma was.

The sheets covering her body were slightly warm from use and the ends were scrunched up in her arms. She was on her side, one hand resting under the pillow her head was latent on. The other hand was just above her abdomen, curled over as it held onto his metal appendage.

Behind her, still asleep, was Killian. His breathing was slow and steady, a comforting rhythm that she listened to as her mind pondered many things. The pirate held her close, his hooked arm wrapped around her waist and the other lying under the pillows beneath her head. She could feel his arm with her hand that was resting underneath the cotton cushion beneath her head.

For once they were dressed in pyjamas; Emma had stayed back at the station after dinner and only departed at midnight when her shift was finished. From then until the time David entered the station, calls were diverted to her father's cell phone or – in an emergency where he couldn't be contacted – her own mobile.

As she stumbled into the bedroom the previous night, the sight of Killian already resting there had made her smile tiredly. Not wanted to wake him and too tired to do anything else, she'd stripped down to her underwear and wifebeater and climbed into bed. Immediately after her arrival in said bed, however, he had turned over and pulled her close to his chest.

Emma felt Killian's breathing hitch for a second and could hear the almost inaudible sound of him blink. She felt the pillow shift as he raised his head slightly – likely to divulge whether the woman in his arms was awake or not. He apparently thought she was still asleep because, rather than move, he let his head fall softly back onto the pillow.

His whispered voice broke the silence, gravelly and course because of his just having woken up.

"I don't know if you're awake to hear this, Emma Swan, but I've never woken up so content in my three centuries of existence… although knowing you, I think you are likely awake. You have that attentive expression on your face that tends to indicate deep trains of thought… a lot of men would find that off-putting but I think it's rather endearing… are you going to respond anytime soon or shall I continue this monologue?" She could hear the smirk in his voice at the end and her lips tilted up. Emma yawned rather loudly and turned around to face him.

"Morning," she said innocently, feigning grogginess. He wouldn't have any of it however, pinching her side which he had isolated as one of her sensitive nerves. The woman squirmed slightly but maintained some sliver of dignity as she sat up and swatted his hand. Killian looked up at her, a bleary smile on his unshaven face.

Emma smiled back, unrestrained at this early hour. This was when he liked her best, in the morning when she hadn't had time to put up her walls that were still in place for everyone else.

Their moment was broken when a knock sounded on the front door, prolonged and soft like a resignation. Killian groaned frustratedly, putting his arm over his face dramatically.

"Is there a particular reason that everyone seems to enjoy visiting you early in this town?" he grumbled as she rose from the bed, wiggling into the jeans she'd dropped on the floor on her way in the night before. The blonde took a knit cardigan off a coat-hanger on the back of her door and pulled it on while she walked to the front door. She was about to answer it and realised she hadn't closed the door to her bedroom. Even if she intended on letting the town find out about her relationship status, they didn't need to know the pirate was in her bed.

Emma walked back to the bedroom and closed the door, noting happily how the man in the bed was already asleep again. She walked briskly back to the door and opened it just as the person standing behind it was about to knock again.

"Neal? What are you doing here?"

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The door opened and Neal raised his eyes to look at her, studying the features he so surely recognised. And yet, he finally had realised, she was a stranger – he had been so desperate to cling to her in an attempt to relive the happiness of their early days together. It had essentially blinded him to the definite difference between the woman in front of him and the seventeen-year old he'd shared a life with. Her eyes were no less bright and blue, but they seemed deeper. Her face hadn't changed its shape but the angles of it were suddenly not as soft as he remembered them. Her mouth was the same, and yet he was sure he recalled it being a darker red and the edges used to be slightly tilted up.

It was like a puzzle piece falling into place to solidify an image that had not yet been fully grasped. But now, Neal definitely grasped it. The realisation he had come to the previous night was abruptly more obvious as he stared at her. His silence irked her and she raised an eyebrow.

"Neal, are you feeling okay?" she asked, watching his features carefully. He nodded, vaguely aware that she had said something before that.

"You were right," he finally said, confusing the woman in front of him even more.

"About what?"

"I'm not in love with you" he said. She didn't respond at first but after several moments of silence, nodded thoughtfully

"I'm sorry… about everything," Emma said solemnly, referring to the life that he had been chasing for the past decade. Despite his choices, he too had been forced to sacrifice in the name of 'good.' Everything he'd done had inevitably been with good intentions; even if he had gone about it all the completely wrong way.

Neal nodded, "Me too," he said.

"And I think I forgive you…" she said, internally warring with herself. A part of her was telling her she was stupid for even considering redemption for the man, that she ought to send him away and let him stew in his own thoughts. But the other part, the part of her that was primarily a result of her saviour-tendencies, urged her to offer him peace. The better side of her won out.

Neal bit his lip and nodded again, silently thankful for the pardon. Another bout of silence passed between them and he extended his hand. The blonde watched him a second longer to absolutely make sure he wasn't just trying to win points with her. But when she looked in his eyes all she saw was resignation.

Sure he was being honest, Emma grasped his hand softly. They were silent as they shook hands. When the exchange ended, the blonde waited for him to say something else but he didn't. He just turned around and moved to leave the apartment.

"Wait! Neal!" she said abruptly, walking out of the apartment. She looked up at him curiously, something just having come to mind that she hadn't actually asked him about. "What did August show you? That made you leave? What convinced you?" Emma asked.

Neal looked deep in thought for a moment before he met her eyes. He smiled slightly when he answered, "August showed me magic. The box had some kind of charmed window into the Enchanted Forest… or at least what was left of it… and I could feel everything that you would feel and... It sounds stupid… but I believed him. It wasn't possible to have in that little box what he had… so I listened."

The blonde nodded thoughtfully, understanding the wonder that August's revelation must have provoked in Neal. She smiled marginally.

"Okay… well, goodbye," she said. He bowed his head once and turned around again to leave the apartment, moving down the stairs from whence he came. The saviour didn't call him back this time.

As he departed, Emma felt a sense of weightlessness – there was finally some kind of resolution between the two of them. Their story had finally come to an end.

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Bailey had only just entered the pawn shop when Gold exited the back room. The red velvety curtain swaying was the only movement in the room for a second as the older man took in the sight of his son. Smiling tentatively, the wiry man limped slowly until he was standing in front of his son.

"Good Afternoon Bae," he said softly, leaning heavily on his cane.

Bailey returned the smile uncertainly, "I'm guessing you're wondering why I came by."

"Well, unless you're in the market for some antiques?" Gold replied, attempting light humour. His son managed to chuckle slightly at the joke.

"I came to let you know I… forgive you."

The middle-aged man was quickly embraced by his father and he returned the affection with a pat on the back. They stood together for a minute, the pawnbroker seemingly lost for words as he pulled back and looked happily through the tears in his eyes. It was not often that the Dark One cried, but when it came to his son he had just about proved that he was a different person.

"But I have conditions," Bailey quickly said, grasping Gold's shoulders. The older man smiled slightly.

"This is a deal I won't break," he replied sincerely, leading his son into the back of the shop. The two of them sat down at a delicately carved mahogany table. While Neal's words about needing to forgive and move on were accurate, there needed to be some form of agreement. Far too much had occurred between him and his father for them not to lay their cards on the table.

Bailey had never considered himself the type to give conditional forgiveness, but this situation called for a different set of standards. In the presence of the Dark One, related or not, a person must make exceptions to their beliefs.

"I want to forgive you… and I want to stay here and work on our relationship. But… there are some things you can't do. I can't let you do," he began, playing with his thumbs. Gold watched his son intently and nodded.

"What is it?" the older man asked, eager to settle the matter.

"Firstly, you can't keep manipulating everybody. No more lying to me either, and no telling half-truths to manoeuvre someone in your favour," he said firmly and Gold nodded in agreement. It was no large feat to have to inform his son of everything he planned from then on.

"And you can't use your magic to hurt people. Granted there may be a circumstance in the future where you'll need to either for defence or whatever… but no unconditional use of magic," Bailey continued, looking into his father's eyes. Again, the wiry man agreed. They were silent for a moment as the son considered his final request.

This was the hardest one, this was the one that would either make or break their deal. But it was something he couldn't overlook, not if he intended to reform his father.

"You need to give up on this thing with Hook," Bailey said, maintaining eye contact with the man opposite him. Gold's positioning became more rigid at this request and he cocked his head to the side.

"Bae… that man is the reason your mother left us," he said, defending his ambition to strike down the pirate. Bailey shook his head.

"No, my mother left of her own free will. That man didn't force her to do anything," the younger man said, resolute in his disposition.

"But son, he tried to hurt Belle. That can't go unanswered for," Gold said, still trying to remove this condition. His son's expression didn't change; persistence was a trait he'd apparently learned from this world.

"As I hear it, they didn't go unanswered. Didn't you spend some time beating him up the other day on his own ship?"

The pawnbroker's face dropped, "How did you find out about that?"

"Word travels fast in this town… I'll forgive you but only if you give up this revenge. It's going to tear Belle away from you and it's the one condition I will not debate," Bailey said evenly. Silence descended on them as the wiry man opposite him considered his son's words thoughtfully. He had never considered letting the pirate go free, releasing all vendettas against him and moving on. But then, he'd never really done that for anyone. He still held a grudge against Regina for her role in Belle's imprisonment and wasn't keen on forgiving her anytime soon.

A minute passed before his father looked up and hesitantly nodded. He wouldn't take this opportunity for granted. He only had one son and he wasn't going to lose him over something as feeble as revenge.

"No harm will befall the pirate so long as he doesn't hurt you or Belle again."

That was as good as he was going to get and Bailey stood up, extending his hand to the man. Gold stood up and walked around the table, taking the outstretched hand and shaking it once before embracing his son for the second time that afternoon.

"I forgive you," Bailey whispered as he hugged his trembling father.

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Emma was unmoving at the door for five minutes before she walked back to the bedroom. The shock of Neal's visit clogged her mind. She had been sure that he would take a long time to process her words. Unusually for him though, it seemed her words had finally struck a chord. Either that or Bailey had some input – she had a feeling that the son of the Dark One was actually an intelligent person.

She entered her room quietly and moved towards the bed. She was halfway there when the pirate turned towards her, his brow creased in curiosity. He was evidently awake and this time much more coherent.

"Who was that?" he asked, almost suspiciously. Emma narrowed her eyes and kept walking to the bed until she sat on the side next to him.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked. Killian looked at her curiously, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. He folded his arms across his chest and the look he gave her silently reiterated his question. The silent messaging thing between Mary Margaret and David suddenly made more sense.

Nevertheless, Emma sighed and replied, "Neal."

His posture stiffened at the name and the confusion morphed quickly into anger.

"What did you say?" Killian asked, leaning forward. The saviour repeated the name and the pirate was quickly jumping out of the bed. He stood in front of her, looking down with something akin to anger.

"Why didn't you wake me up? Love, I told him to stay away from you and I gave him fairly decent incentive," he growled indignantly. Emma frowned.

"I didn't wake you up because he didn't come here to see you and as for your inability to frighten people – that's not my problem," she replied defensively. The pirate groaned and ran his hand through his shaggy black hair, closing his eyes in frustration.

"Emma, that man has caused you nothing but pain thus far!"

She cocked an eyebrow, "You don't think I know that? Besides, it's my decision if I speak to him or not."

"No, it's not just your decision! He affects you which in turn affects me!" Killian retorted, looking at her as if he were imploring her for a slither of reason. She shook her head and stood up, walking around him to leave the room. However, the pirate cut her off by moving quickly behind her and closing the door before she could leave. His action aggravated her and she spun around.

"What is it about you men? You all assume you have some kind of claim over me and my actions. Newsflash; you don't!" she spat angrily. Killian stepped forward, backing her into the door. She kept her eyes on his, unwilling to let him intimidate her with his proximity.

"I don't pretend to own you but I do get a say in who gets to hurt you," he said in a tone that was quieter but still conveyed annoyance.

"What is your problem?" Emma asked, eyes widening on the last word.

"You're my problem!" the pirate growled back angrily, the space between them shrinking. The blonde glanced at his lips once and knew she was quickly losing her resolve to win this argument. He couldn't kiss his way out of everything if they were going to build a relationship.

"You haven't even bothered to ask why he came to see me?" she said. His eyes drilled into her as he too found himself glancing at her lips.

"Okay, why did he come by?" he asked.

Emma concentrated on her response, "He's leaving today. He realised… realised that I wasn't who he fell in love with. He's gone and he came to tell me he was sorry." Killian nodded thoughtfully and leant forward a little more so that his breath played against her lips.

"About bloody time," he said seriously.

The saviour narrowed her eyes at the man pressing his body against hers; surely he didn't think he could get out of their argument that easily. He had, after all, jumped down her throat for speaking to a man he deemed forbidden. She pulled her hands up to push slightly on his chest but he didn't move.

"Don't think you're forgiven for just about biting my head off," Emma said, provoking the pirate to smirk and raise an eyebrow.

"Haven't you realised by now that it's how I show affection?" he responded suavely, purposefully looking between her eyes and her lips.

"Oh, so that's why we always bicker," she countered with equal genteel.

"Precisely," Killian said before he let himself lean in. The blonde tilted her head up to meet his lips as they landed on her own; it was like a natural response. Emma pulled away from the kiss enough to speak quickly, although she was interrupted with the occasional peck.

"And don't… tell me… what to do."

He chuckled against her mouth, kissing her fervently before pulling back for a second.

"I thought not doing what the other demands was our thing?"

Emma matched his quiet laugh and dragged him back to her lips.

One more chapter and an epilogue to go – I feel sad to be ending this soon but so so so happy that you have all stuck with it and continued reading it and reviewing and everything. I LOVE YOU ALL MORE THAN CHOCOLATE (That's a lie but I do still love you)! I just can't even believe the response and I hope you'll read my next one that I'm just about done planning and I'm about to start the first chapter (Let me know if you want an excerpt from it in the epilogue).