A/N: Hello, readers! So, as always, I am so sorry for the delay. Work has been crazy, but I am back! One more chapter before we get a glimpse of Killian. As always, reviews make my day, and it's where I get a lot of my ideas. Thanks for sticking with it!

Emma and Henry walked in silence as they headed towards the house. Emma was trying to keep her emotions in check and her senses sharp. She felt uneasy knowing her magic would be unpredictable at best. Her eyes constantly darted back and forth, her hand on her gun. She knew that shooting anyone down here wouldn't do much, but it could buy her and Henry time to get away if things got ugly. She didn't have many people who would wish to harm her, but she didn't want that semi-sense of security to cloud her judgment. Not when she had Henry with her.

She shot a glance at him and saw him stoically striding beside her. She wasn't sure when it had happened, but he had turned into a teenager. He had grown so much, and, though it hurt a bit to admit it, he was slightly looking more and more like Neal. She knew that Neal would not be in this place. When he had begged her to let go, she had promised him she would be happy, and that Henry would know he had died a hero. He would have no unfinished business. And even if he were here, she wasn't sure if he would be all that willing to help. Not when he and Killian were both vying for her affections.

Henry noticed his mother looking at him. He tried to remain strong for her. He was there the first few days after Killian's death and had seen the toll it took on her. He had only been able to properly grieve the one night he had spent at Regina's when Mary Margaret had insisted she stay with Emma, somehow knowing that Henry needed space. Henry had collapsed into his bed at Regina's and let the tears fall. Killian had been the closest thing he had ever had to a father. Even when Henry hadn't had his memories back, he had still felt a connection to the oddly dressed man who took him sailing.

One of his favorite memories was when he had told Emma and Killian about Violet. The way Killian had looked at him, Henry almost felt like Killian's son. Seeing him tormented when they returned from Camelot and were looking for Emma had wrenched at Henry's heart. And then, that terrible night, when Killian had sacrificed himself, Henry saw part of his future die that night also. There were no words Henry could use to express what he was feeling. He refused to give up hope, but even he struggled to stay optimistic.

"You know, Henry," Emma finally began, breaking the silence. "You don't have to always be strong. I know you miss him too." She gave a sideways glance at her son as they continued walking. He swallowed thickly, keeping his eyes off her.

"I know. But you had enough to deal with." He kept it simple, not wanting to elaborate on how off Emma had been in the days after Killian's death. He knew she'd be embarrassed if she was reminded of how awful she had looked, how much her emotions had showed. Emma put her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she answered. "I was so concerned about how I was feeling that I forgot how much he meant to you. It must have been hard." Henry only nodded, not trusting his voice to stay steady. They continued their trek. At last, he gathered his thoughts.

"I didn't realize how much I'd miss him," he said after a while. "I had just assumed he'd always be there. I never thought of any other possibility." His head bowed down, but Emma could see his eyes shining. Emma stopped them. She gathered Henry to her and pulled him in tightly.

"We'll find him," she said, sincerity in her eyes. "I know it seems hopeless, but, we know that he came here, so we'll keep looking until we know for sure." Henry didn't speak, just kept walking forward.

Before too long they made it to the house they were supposed to call "home". Much like the Jolly Roger, the house had lost its grandeur in favor of dilapidation. Shutters hung loosely from the windows, the walkway torn up. Emma drew out her gun and focused on her senses. The door of the house was ajar, though no sounds could be heard.

"Stay behind me," Emma told Henry, sternly. He complied and remained close behind his mother. She kicked the door open and quietly walked inside. Aware of her surroundings, she cautiously checked the different rooms. Each room was torn apart. In the living room, lamps and pictures were smashed on the ground. Henry fingered the couch, eyes welling up, seeing what should have been.

"Killian?" Emma called out quietly. "Killian, are you here?" She moved through into the kitchen. Glasses were shattered on the floor.

"Mom-" Henry gasped, pointing to the floor a bit further away.

"What?" she asked without looking. When she realized that Henry was directing her gaze, her mouth fell open. A few droplets of blood splattered the floor near the stairs. "Killian," she breathed, tears streaming down her face. She and Henry followed the trail up the stairs. It went past the room that was supposed to be Henry's, past the bathroom, and into what should have been their room. Dried blood covered the doorknob. She twisted the knob, mentally preparing herself for whatever she would see behind the door. She took a shaky breath and opened it.

No one was inside. She noticed a darker blood stain on the floor next to the bed, smears running along the side, as if whoever was there had leaned their back against the bed while they bled out on the floor.

"Was it Killian?" Henry questioned softly. Emma shook her head, not knowing. She walked around the room, trying to gather more clues. She didn't want to, but she slid to the floor, next to the largest stain. She lightly touched it, noticing that it was mostly dry, only the center seemed a bit damp, the slightest trace of red remaining on her fingers. Moving to pull herself up, her hand slid back and brushed across a piece of paper that had slid under the bed. She pulled it out and read it: 'Emma Swan" was written several times, each line getting more and more erratic.

"He was here," she said, more loudly than she had anticipated. The sound of the door banging downstairs made the pair jump.

"It can't be him, can it?" Henry asked. Emma pulled her gun back to her ready position as she leaned towards the door to listen.

"I don't think so," she whispered. "Judging by the state of this room, I don't-" she took a breath, "don't think he'd have the strength to open the door that forcefully. Stay close to me," she instructed.

Emma led Henry down the stairs, but found no one. She did a quick sweep of the house, before her eyes settled on the locked basement door. Of course, she thought to herself. That was the hiding place for her secrets. It would only be right that he'd be there. She opened the door and hoped for the best.

"Welcome to the Underworld, Darling," a chilling voice greeted her. Emma took a jump backwards, her gun ready to fire.

"What are you doing here?" Emma demanded, a slight feeling of fear creeping into her. Cruella stepped towards her, her hand on her hip.

"I think the better question, Savior, is what are you doing here?"

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"You know damn well why I'm here," Emma answered, feeling panicked, but wanting to use this interaction to get some information. Cruella cackled. "But my question is, how did you know we were going to be here?"

"News travels fast. I saw the way you looked at that pirate, so I knew you wouldn't let him go without a fight. Naturally, once I'd heard around town that this was going to be the house you three shared together, I knew you'd check it first. And now? Now, instead of you getting your happy ending, I'm going to get mine."

Before Emma could react, Cruella withdrew a sharp skinning knife.

"Mom!" Henry screamed, pushing her out of the way. They both rolled to the floor. Emma fired a shot, but missed Cruella by mere inches.

"Henry, run," Emma commanded, firing another shot. It hit Cruella's shoulder and she staggered for a moment.

"Not without you," he answered. Emma fired again.

"Henry, I wasn't asking you. I'll be fine. Go! Run to the library and don't stop until you get there. I'll meet you there. Now, go!" Henry kissed her cheek and bolted from the house, not pausing to look back as per Emma's request.

"Cruella, I'm sorry I killed you. It was a misunderstanding. All of it was a plan devised to turn me into a villain. But you don't have to do this." Emma knew it was a weak argument, but she had to try something. She didn't want to waste all of her bullets. Cruella wasn't buying it and charged again. Emma's reflexes improved and she grabbed the other woman by her coat collar and through her backwards. She tried to conjure some of her magic but it shorted out quickly. She turned and began to flee before she was knocked to the ground.

Emma was greeted by a knife to her throat, and Cruella's lips close to her ear.

"I'm now going to make you pay, Savior," she whispered coldly. "Just like your poor pirate has been paying since he got here." Emma struggled against her, but Cruella's grip was stronger. Emma kept trying to conjure up a blast of magic, but it fizzled feebly. She was ready to feel the slice of the knife when Cruella's grip lessened and she fell to the floor.

"Get up, we don't have much time," an unfamiliar voice directed. Emma felt a hand grip her arm and bring her to her feet. Emma faced the woman. Dressed in a purple dress, her long dark hair pulled up into a high ponytail, she had a determined and steely look in her eyes.

"Who are you?" Emma asked, hesitant to follow her. The woman rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"I'm Megara, Meg for short. And I just saved your life. Now let's get out here before she wakes up."