It's a just over a week later when Killian is ripped from the throes of a pitch black nightmare, the kind he hasn't had in years. Gasping for breath, he jerked upright as his startled vision darted around the room. His forehead felt hot and his mind is reeled through a form of terror he'd all but forgotten. It wasn't real, he reminded himself as he closed his eyes for composure. It's all in the past.

"Hey," Emma mumbled, rising in bed next to him with a sleepy yet surprised expression. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

He exhaled hard, allowing his chest to rise and fall as it regained a rhythmic pattern. He hadn't meant to wake her. He couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been thrashing about, trying to fend off his exhausted demons.

"Yeah," he said softly, running a shaky hand through his hair. "Just a bad dream."

She rubbeed his arm as he slumped back against the headboard, opening his embrace so she could move closer to lay her head on his chest. She didn't seem to mind that his t-shirt was damp with fear. Emma had always been like that - never failing to be there for him no matter the less than desirable circumstances. God, how he loved her for it.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He didn't - he wasn't sure what he'd say. The images in his tired brain replayed themselves, the words accompanying the devastating sights screaming at him.

Killian, I should have listened to you.

I'm just glad you survived.

I will follow you to the ends of the earth, brother.

They took my brother from me and now I'm going to take everything they've got.

Killian stared up at the ceiling for a moment, surrounding his nerves with Emma's comforting touch. He hadn't been haunted by that day for quite a while - especially now that his waking hours were filled with the boy carrying on his brother's name is a way that would have made his departed uncle proud. He had never given up missing his older brother, but hadn't missed him quite like this in a very long time.

It didn't take him long to realize why. Not long at all.

"Killian," Emma all but whispered, kissing his chest and looking up at him. "How can I help?"

He smiled softly at her, forgetting his aching heart for a moment as he ran his fingers through the length of her wavy hair. She was so beautiful - and somehow, she lovedhim. She'd chosen him, even with all this baggage she knew he carried. As her restless green eyes warred with the storm in his blue ones, he knew she was very much aware of what had caused his somewhat violent waking.

"I think I just need some air," he decided, stroking her shoulder as if to ask for permission. "I'll be back, okay?"

She nodded, turning her head to lean against his hand as it grazed her jaw. He smirked at her sweet gesture, returning the affection by placing a gentle kiss on her lips and a second one on her forehead. Killian took a deep breath, allowing his cheek to brush her hair before he stretched to vacate the bed.

She tossed a pillow at him playfully, her attempt at drawing a smile from him successful as he pulled the fluffy quilt up around her. Emma laughed as he wrapped the covers tight around her in demonstration of his tuck in abilities. He'd gotten quite good at that over the past five years - though it was usually their little Liam that benefited from his efforts.

"Take a sweater," she reminded him, burrowing under the sheets. "It's supposed to be cold out."

"As you wish, love."

He snagged his gray hoodie from the chair by the door, smiling at the fact that she knew where he was headed. Emma could always read him like an open book - a fact she liked to remind him of often.

"Killian, it's going to be okay."

He'd been pacing the wood planks for the better part of an hour, the water splashing against the docks in succession with his pounding heart. They'd arrived early - something that was clearly a mistake as he now had a wealth of extra time to fret. It seemed stupid to be nervous, but somewhere in his mind. it was logical. He'd always be cautious about putting his family in situations such as this one.

They'd set up this little meeting at Emma's prompting. It wasn't surprising - Killian knew that his father wanted to meet the woman who'd brought him out of so many years of darkness, but there was no way that man was going to ask for such a thing.

Emma though - of course she would make that request. It was a reasonable one, yes, but it didn't make it any easier.

"Hey," she said suddenly, reaching out to stop his nervous walking by grasping his arm. "I know this whole thing has been hard, but he's your father….and he's important. I want to meet him, Killian - and not during the delivery of a secret birthday gift."

Killian gasped softly, pausing for a moment before pulling her into his arms. Emma nuzzled his chest in a way he'd never get tired of. He should have known she'd make this easier - that woman had a way with calming the waves.

"Killian?"

He froze for a moment, tightening his hug on Emma before pulling back to watch the man they'd been anticipating walk up the wooden deck in their direction. His father was dressed for the cool weather - a dark blue jacket and its popped collar pairing with a thick black scarf to fend off the dropping temperature. He'd allowed his hair to gather much more than length than it used to when Killian was little as it now curled back under his ear in a rather shaggy manner. He looked hesitant - almost as if he wasn't sure exactly how he fit into this life just yet. It was an odd contrast to the man Killian once knew. He felt his breath hitch a bit and Emma reached for his hand, squeezing it as she winked at him. God, that woman would surely be the death of him.

"Dad," he started, summoning bravery from anywhere he could find it. "I wanted to….uh, this is Emma - my wife."

"Emma," the man repeated, offering a grin that closely resembled Killian's. "It's wonderful to meet you, lass."

"Likewise," Emma replied, returning his smile. "I'm sorry it took so long."

Killian held her hand tight as they all waited out the few awkward seconds of such a moment, something Emma was extremely quick to remedy.

"Well, now that you're here," she continued, peeking up at Killian teasingly. "I have so many questions for you."

"Oh," he said shakily, his eyes darting from her to Killian in panic. "Well, I don't-"

"Has your son always been such an annoying early riser? Oh - and has he always been such an obsessive bookworm? I mean there is absolutely no space left on the shelves in the living room."

Killian felt his heart flutter as he scowled playfully at her before looking back at his father. The man blinked rapidly and looked to his son with an incredulous expression. It took only seconds for a light laughter to fill the space between the three of them. Killian's eyes fell to his wife with all the appreciation he could fit into a single look.

"I must say he only had a fraction of the habits you're describing from what I remember from….his youth," his father said cautiously, trying to skirt around his abandonment and shame. "But I suppose if those are his two biggest faults - well, then I'm….proud of the man he became on his own."

Killian felt pounding heart leap in his chest, his father's approval radiating as his veins pulsed with pride. Emma peeked sideways at him, pressing her lips into a chaste smile as she stroked his hand with her thumb.

"But if you'd like to hear about his irrational fear of the Kraken when he was about your little boy's age," his father continued, raising an eyebrow in a typical Jones fashion. "Then I'd be happy to offer up a tale or two on that."

"Whoa, wait a minute-"

"Hey - shut up, you," Emma laughed, slapping Killian's chest as she cut off his rebuttal. "This sounds like something I've gotta hear - preferably over some hot chocolate."

Killian shook his head with a chuckle, nodding toward the diner in a manner that caused them both to follow. He held tight to her hand, listening intently as she assisted his father in warming up to this other part of their world. There was something to be said for two of the cornerstones of his life colliding so unexpectedly, but even more to be said for the fact that they were fusing so perfectly.

Maybe this would work after all. Maybe they could all fit together somehow.

He pulled the door closed quietly with a sigh as set out to procure his ability to sleep again. Stumbling slightly, he noticed an extra quilt laying on the floor, folded nicely and suitable for the impending weather. It was a spare that Ruby's grandmother had made recently - one that she'd left for Killian with a note saying it would be perfect the cool evenings at sea.

He kept the Jolly Roger fairly close to the solid land surrounding Storybrooke nowadays, mostly for the sake of his five year old first mate. That change in his set course made him think the thoughtful product of Granny's knitting wasn't meant for him, but perhaps for a different captain.

Killian dropped himself to the wood deck of their front porch, the subtle wind blowing across the yard as he stationed his body for brooding. He placed the thick blanket on the surface beside him as he pondered his next move. It came in the form of a deep breath as he found himself rather glad he'd snagged his flask from his jacket pocket.

He didn't drink much anymore - he didn't need to. The happiness his new life was spun around didn't require the constant drowning in libations. The coolness of the container under his fingertips was familiar as he tried to forget the dream - or nightmare - that has torn him from a peaceful sleep beside his wife. That woman was and had always beenfar better company than his demons.

Killian tried not to entertain the thought of allowing the dwindling dark hours to haunt him, but the way his heart had been thumping post waking was making it difficult. His brother was always somewhere near the surface of his mind, but it hadn't taken Killian long to realize that it was the recent return of the eldest Jones man that had his head spinning with less than pleasant memories.

His spiraling was interrupted after a moment by the buzzing of his phone. He felt the startling vibration in his pocket and reached for the device quickly, fairly sure he knew who was light up the screen with an endearing text message.

Emma: This bed is too big for just me - and cold. Very cold.

He smirked to himself, flattered at the idea of her missing him after only a short time away. His fingers hovered over the keys as he pondered the walk he was about to take and a response that would hold the promise he always liked to give his wife. He'd barely started to reply when her words filled the screen again.

Emma: Just like it is out there I presume. Take your coat and stay out of the water, Mr. Jones. Tell your father I say hello.

Of course, he sighed happily. He'd never be able to hide a thing from that woman.

Killian: Be back shortly to warm you up, darling. I love you.

Emma: I love you too, Killian.

He trudged down the steps, fending off the fatigue he'd surely feel in the morning as he headed up the road in the direction of the docks. A slight breeze ruffled his hair with a gentle mist from the nearby harbor. He smiled to himself, glad again that their home had been built close to the water. Killian was a faithful visitor of the docks - and even more so since a certain sailor had reentered his world.

His feet met the wood of the walkway as he looked out over the calm and shallow bay. The black of the sky painted a serene picture, one that was littered with dim light from a few lanterns. He narrowed his eyes at the faint sound of a harmonica coming from a nearby ship. He walked almost automatically, knowing exactly who was making such an unfamiliar noise.

"Dad?"

He'd barely rounded the back of the boat when the melody stopped and he met the sorrowful gaze of the man who found his way back to him. The man's expression was full of surprise - but it was of the pleasant variety. Killian felt his heart swell slightly as he took it as an invitation to linger.

"Killian," his father said softly, a smile appearing but fading fast. "What are you…I mean, is everything okay? It's late-"

"Yeah, I, uh….I know," Killian replied, shaking his head as he held up the quilt. "It's just that I wanted to see if….well, we want to give you…it's cold out-"

"Oh - yeah, I guess it is," his father nodded, clearly a bit flattered. "But you didn't have to-"

"It's no trouble," Killian assured him, placing the blanket on the table just to his right. "Ruby - the girl from the diner - her grandmother made it and we just…I just….well, I thought you might need it."

He watched the man standing, reaching to brush the fabric of the gift with a smirk. Killian noted the way gratitude filled the space between them - something that seemed to ease this persistent tension they'd had for weeks now.

"Thank you, son," he credited, a hopeful glint in his eyes as he gestured toward an adjacent chair. "Would you like to…I mean, do you need to get back? That girl of yours seems the type to be concerned about you keeping odd hours."

"Actually, Emma said to tell you hello," Killian replied, sitting carefully. "I think she knew I was coming down here before I did."

His father chuckled in fondness, tugging a beat up flask from his jacket pocket and offering it thoughtfully. Killian shook his head with a smirk as he reached for and held up his own. Like father, like son, he thought silently.

"So," Killian breathed, raising an eyebrow. "The harmonica, huh?"

"Yeah," his father grinned, shrugging a shoulder. "Picked it up a few years back."

"A little different than the piano," Killian commented. "Or was it the organ?"

"That's the one," he confirmed, laughing softly. "But it's been ages since that - a ship's not the ideal place for such a hobby. Need a bit more space and stability to keep an instrument like that one."

"Yeah, a ship's not exactly a home."

The words radiated in Killian's mind the moment he said them. The voiced opinion was one he'd developed not long ago and the look his father's face quickly took on told him the man agreed.

"Are you-" Killian started, swallowing hard. "-planning on making it yours here? I mean…are you thinking you might stay? For a while?"

"Well," his father hesitated, his eyebrows knit together. "I would like to."

It was something Killian had wished to hear long before this moment. He'd always wanted his father to come back - to choose to stay. Something about the fact that they were finally literally and figuratively in the same boat gave him hope.

"I think Liam will be happy to hear that," Killian told him, trying to hide his own opinion. "He's been wanting to see you."

"Oh, uh," his father stammered, his shoulder lifting a bit. "Well, I'd like that - and maybe to see Emma too? I'd love to spend some time with them…if you are okay with it, son."

"Yeah," Killian nodded as he decided to take a brave leap. "I think we'd all love that."

They shared a look that hadn't engaged in many times, but it was one Killian had learned to interpret quickly during moments like this one - moments where a father was truly proud of the man his son had become. It was approval he didn't need, but the kind he could help but be elated to have.

"Maybe we could go for breakfast soon," his father said after a moment. "You and me and Liam? I just…I'd like to be around - be a part of his life. That is, if you're open to it?"

He should have thought twice. He should have debated it a bit more. This man didn't have a sufficient track record when it came to sticking around, but the tenderness of the moment was something he didn't want to fight. He was tired of fighting.

"Okay," Killian agreed, his eyes forgiving and his heart full. " I think that's a great idea, dad."

It was only after his father tilted his own flask toward Killian's in appreciation and truce that he realized the word he'd just used wasn't all that out of place anymore.