"So, what aren't you telling me about your father, Swan?" Killian asked as they headed toward the docks.

"Nothing," Emma said brusquely.

"You obviously have a history," he pointed out. "At least as things are now."

"You could say that."

He reached out and held her arm, pulling her back. "Not so fast, love. You can't leave me in the dark, here. This might be necessary information."

She let out a sigh, shoving her fingers through her hair.

"He's my father."

"I know that, Swan, and that obviously makes for a delicate situation - "

"No, Killian - he's my father. There, and here. He's still my father."

"But..." Killian shook his head. "Neal..."

"Yeah. He killed him. As soon as he found out I was pregnant. Ripped his heart out right in front of me and crushed it. Only in this reality, I lost the baby, too."

Killian's lips parted and his face froze in horror. "You mean...?"

"Yeah. No baby. No Henry." She blinked a few times, then swallowed hard. "My father had Neal cornered. He was throwing charges at him, like lightning, one after the other. I jumped in front of Neal, and he got me instead. Once he saw what he'd done, he decided to get it over with more quickly, and ripped Neal's heart out instead. He healed me afterward, but it was too late for the baby."

"And that drove you to become a pirate?"

"I ran away. I knew he'd look for me, and I wanted to get as far away as I could. I disguised myself as a boy and signed on with a pirate ship as the cabin boy."

Killian raised his brows, giving her a look of pure disbelief.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, they caught onto me pretty quick. But I ended up the Captain's wench for a while, until I figured things out, dumped him overboard, and took over the ship."

He raised a brow, looking at her strangely. "That's a bit dark for you, Swan."

"I am my father's daughter, and he's not known for being a nice guy. Not here."

"I see. So you're a girl who lost everything, turned villain, and now you want vengeance."

"I did," she said. "I've been looking for him for the last few years. I thought if I could get the dagger, I could finally destroy him and get on with my life."

"Let me guess...he hasn't been on board with that plan," Killian suggested.

Emma shook her head. "That's an understatement. We've run into each other twice in the last five years, and both times ended badly. He killed half my crew in front of me and I almost got that damn dagger. That's when I learned that no matter what I do, he won't kill me. Apparently, family is still important to him."

"Perhaps that's our angle," Killian said. "You could make an overture - an attempt at reconciliation. Then ask him to find you a sword. If he's anything like Robin was with his bow, he'll feel a pull to the right one."

"I don't know if I can," she said.

"Emma, he's your father. You love the man - "

"He's not my father!" she shouted, her eyes filling with tears. "I mean...yes, he's my father. I know that. And I love him. I know he's not who he is right now. I know that. But I have all those memories and I just...I don't know that I can forget..."

Killian reached out, gently folding her into his arms. "It's all right, love. We'll find another way."

She shook her head against his shoulder. "No. You're right. He'll want to see me."

Killian closed his eyes, tightening his arms around her. "I can't even imagine what you must be feeling. And whether or not it really happened, you're still remembering it. It's still real to you."

Emma shook her head again. "No. That's not real." She reached up, cupping his face in her hands. "This - this is real. You. And me. This, I can trust. Does that make sense?"

"It makes perfect sense." He kissed her long and lingeringly, his lips plying hers gently, with a sweetness that made her heart feel as though it would burst out of her chest.

"Whatever you decide," he said, twirling a lock of her hair in his fingers. "I'll be right there. You don't have to face him, or any of those memories alone."

Emma stepped back and straightened her shoulders. "No. You can't come with me. I'll have to see him alone. If he gets the slightest idea that you and I are together - you're a dead man."

"I've fought that battle with your father before, love."

"Not like this," she said, putting a hand to his chest. "I mean it, Killian. He will kill you. As far as he's concerned, no man is good enough for me."

"So he's still your father, but with the powers of darkness behind him. Lovely."

"Well, maybe we'll get lucky and Robin will get him to touch the sword," Emma said. "Come on, let's see if we can find what Henry was talking about."

She quickened her pace and they rounded a corner, crossing the street to the pier. Killian walked right into Emma, causing her to stumble forward after coming to a complete stop in front of him.

"What the hell?"

Killian followed her eyes to where hers had frozen, and like her, his mind was having a hard time reconciling what his eyes were seeing. The pier just...ended. And part of the dock itself was gone, split in half lengthwise all down the length of it. It was clean and it was abrupt and it made absolutely no sense.

Emma walked forward slowly. "It's like the dock's been cut in half," she said. "How is that poss- ow!" She started violently and stumbled back a few paces.

Killian reached out, catching her before she fell. "Swan!"

She righted herself, sticking a hand out and walking forward again. She stopped when her hand would go no further. "It's a barrier," she said in disbelief. "Some kind of invisible barrier."

"The end of the world," Killian said, reaching his own hand out to feel it. "This must be where the line was drawn."

"There's not a lot of dock here," Emma said. Her eyes began to widen as the realization dawned on her. "What happened if you were on the other side of the line when everything changed?"

Killian turned his head sharply to look down the dock, then back at Emma. "I don't know."

###

"Give it back!"

"Make me!"

Voices shouted from behind the door, and Mrs. Reynolds knew exactly what that tone meant, particularly when it was being used by two teenage boys. She opened the door just as the larger boy took a swing at Henry, who ducked in the blink of an eye, dropping down and sweeping a leg out, knocking the boy off his feet and onto his back. He came down with a knee to the boy's chest and a raised fist that had the boy wincing as he waited for it to fall.

"Henry!"

Mrs. Reynolds ran forward, pulling Henry off of the other boy, who pushed himself to his feet, giving Henry a look that promised retribution.

"What's going on here?" she demanded.

"He's crazy!" The boy said.

"Jared..." she gave the boy a warning look. "What did I tell you about calling people names?"

"He took my backpack," Henry accused. "I had it under my bed, and he took it while I was in the bathroom."

"Is that true, Jared?" Mrs. Reynolds put her hands on her hips.

He gave her a sullen look. "No."

"Yes." Henry countered. "Look in his drawer."

Mrs. Reynolds gave Jared a long, searching look. "Jared, if I open that drawer and find a backpack..."

Jared crossed his arms. "Okay, okay," he fumed. "I was just joking with him. He's got a bunch of baby stuff in it, anyway."

"Give it back, Jared."

"Yes, Ma'am," Jared grumbled. He walked over to a chest of drawers, opened the second drawer down and pulled out Henry's backpack, extending his arm until Henry took it from him.

"Henry, Jared," Mrs. Reynolds said gently, "Don't you boys have something to say to one another?"

"Sorry." Jared said the word, but his face clearly showed its opposition.

"Don't touch my stuff again," Henry warned.

"Henry, we don't teach violence here," Mrs. Reynolds said.

"In my family, we're taught to stick up for each other. And for ourselves," Henry replied.

"You don't have a family," Jared sneered. "They were probably glad to get rid of you!"

"Jared!" Mrs. Reynolds said, aghast. "You head to the kitchen right now. We're going to have a talk."

"But - "

"Out! Now!"

Jared plodded out the door, shooting Henry one last glare over his shoulder.

"Henry," Mrs. Reynolds said quietly. "Violence is never a solution. If you have problems with anyone here, you bring them to me first. Understood?"

Henry nodded, clutching his backpack tight to his chest. Mrs. Reynolds left the room, and Henry watched her pull the door shut behind her before he crawled onto the bed, shimmying up until his back was to the wall. He unzipped his backpack, rummaging around in it until he found what he was looking for: a spiral notebook. Then he unzipped a front compartment and produced a pen, which he set to the paper, writing:

OPERATION CHAMELEON

1. Find out where Storybrooke went.

A. Re-trace events

B. Try to come up with a list of possible causes

***a. My grandfather?

***b. New villain?

***c. King George?

2. Revisit the crime scene

A. Find a way to get money or credit card for bus/train ticket

B. Buy camping gear

C.

Henry stopped there, chewing the end of his pen cap. Nothing else was coming to him. He'd gone over it and over it in his mind every day, a hundred times a day, and he still wasn't any closer to an answer. He glanced around the room at the other beds along the wall, and despair began to well up inside him again. He took a deep breath, forcing it back down. He could do this. He was the grandson of Snow White, Prince Charming, and Rumplestiltskin. His father was a Lost Boy who outwitted Peter Pan and his mothers had powerful magic. He wouldn't give up until he found them, and he knew - he knew it down into his bones - that they would never give up on him.

Wherever his family was, they were looking for him. He knew it.

###

"What do you mean, it didn't work?"

Emma, Killian and Robin were in a booth at Smee's, trying their best to keep their voices low, but Emma couldn't help raising her volume on that one.

"He saw right through me, I'm afraid," Robin said. "Somehow, he'd gotten word that you were in town, Emma. He has eyes everywhere."

"Great." Emma propped her elbow on the table, rubbing her forehead.

"Don't take this the wrong way, mate, but why are you still alive?" Killian asked him. "He must've seen you with Emma if he made the association."

"Yes, exactly," Robin said. "He saw the two of us at breakfast our first morning here. And he made it clear that the only reason I was leaving with my life was to bring Emma a message."

"What message?" Emma looked at him warily.

"He wants to talk. Just talk. Speak with him, and he'll let me live."

Emma rolled her eyes. "No pressure, right?" She looked over at Killian. "I'm going to have to do this, aren't I?"

"You want your father back," Killian said, reaching over and taking her hand.

Emma nodded. "Give me your flask."

Killian dug it out from his back pocket, handing it over. Emma uncorked it, taking a long, healthy swig before handing it back.

"Okay," she said, sliding out of the booth and pushing herself up to her feet. "You two head for the library, and we'll meet you there."

Killian got out of the booth, pulling her in close. "Be careful," he said.

"I will."

He brought his hand up, rubbing his thumb softly along her jawline.

"Trust this," he said. "And trust the man you know your father to be. He's still in there, love."