Author's note: Two years ago today, I posted my very first fanfic. I was originally introduced to this site by one of my old friends (who I am no longer friends with for reasons I do not want to dwell upon). I love reading other people's fanfics and it took me quite some time to finally muster up the courage to post my first fanfic, Happily Never After. It wasn't very popular and it certainly wasn't my best, but it was something. It represented the very first time writing something intended for others to read. As cliche as it sounds, it's pretty amazing to see how far I've come since then. This story, For the Love of Swan, has by far been my most successful story, and so I thank each and every one of you who has read, reviewed, followed, and favorited it.

And most of all, thank you to the amazing MonkeyLovr, who is probably one of the sole reasons why I still continue to write. Not to get all sappy or anything, but without her many of my stories, this one included, wouldn't exist. I can never truly express how much I've appreciated all of her wonderful ideas and help on all of my stories. From starting to watch a bit of OUAT just for the sole purpose of helping me come up with ideas to sometimes being more excited about my stories than I am, you're the best writing partner and friend anyone could ever ask for.

Since neither of us likes to be sappy, I'll just end it here and say THANK YOU again and without further ado here's the chapter.

Chapter 31

When Killian and Ava first moved in, Emma figured they'd be in her apartment for two weeks, maybe a months tops. So they hadn't even bothered to unpack most of their stuff, leaving the majority of their belongings in the boxes that were stacked along the hallway and in the spare room.

Except now...there was no rush. For the first time, Emma's vast apartment no longer seemed so lonely and empty. It wasn't just a place to sleep, but a real home. She could no longer walk around the living room without tripping over one of Ava's many toys. And Killian's many, many stacks of books. A kiddie show played on the TV for most of the day. Her bathroom counter was now littered with Killian's many facial products. For a guy, he sure used a lot.

Once, she'd been in a hurry and had grabbed an eyeliner only to realize that it wasn't hers, but one of his. When questioned, he just muttered something incoherent and grabbed it back, asking how he was supposed to maintain his impeccable appearance without it.

She had to admit that he did look pretty good with guyliner.

But despite all the clutter and noise, she was happy. Finally had a family.

"What do you say we do something about these boxes?" Emma suggested one evening. She'd just finished tucking Ava into bed, reading her a story from the book of fairy tales, of course. "I seriously trip over them every single morning."

He fixed her with a bemused stare. "It's not anyone's fault you're clumsy. What are you suggesting? Kicking me out already?"

"No, I was thinking more of...unpacking." She faced forward, keeping her eyes trained on the wall as she said this. Though he'd technically moved in before they'd started dating. So it wasn't like she was asking him to move in. More like to...stay?

"Unpacking? Why?" He asked. As if he didn't already know.

"You know why."

"Aye, but I just want to hear you say it."

She rolled her eyes. Smug little bastard. Well, two could play at this game. "Because my stuff looks a little lonely and honestly boxes everywhere looks tacky."

"Not good enough."

Fine. "Because I mean there's no rush for you to move out. Now that...you know."

"Ah. I see. Well that's an excellent idea."

Which is why the next morning she found herself digging through the boxes, pulling out various items, and of course, stopping to making to fun of them.

"Why do you have so many models of pirate ships?" Emma asked as she laid them out on the floor before her. "There must be like thirty in here."

He shrugged casually. "I did say I was a sailor."

"Yes, but that doesn't necessarily mean you should have a huge collection of model ships. This is a borderline obsession. I mean, where are we even going to put all of these?"

"I'm sure you'll find a place."

"You don't honestly believe I'm going to put these silly little ships all over my apartment, right?"

He gasped loudly and pressed his hand to his chest. "They are anything but silly!"

"Whatever you say." Emma shook her head as she gathered them into a corner. "Books I can handle. I have plenty of space for books. But model ships?"

"We can put them in the kitchen. You have plenty of space there."

"You mean the counters? You can't put them there."

"And why not? Who made up that bloody rule anyway? This is our place."

Her cheeks warmed as he said our place. Finally, it was no longer just her apartment. It was theirs. And it felt good."Fine. I guess you're right."

"I know I am. Now where shall I put these jackets? Getting really sick of keeping them in the suitcase."

"Um, there should be room in the closet by the door." Emma replied as she turned to the last box. She'd forgotten how much work unpacking was and was already looking forward to a nice drink. The last box was rather heavy; as Emma dragged it towards her she wondered if it was another box of books. But upon further inspection she realized it was actually a box full of photos and photo albums.

She sat cross legged before the box, lifting up the first album and cracking it open. In the living room, she could hear Killian grumbling as he attempted to fit his ridiculously large book collection in her shelves.

"Aww." Emma said to herself as she looked at the first picture. It was a photo of Ava maybe a year ago, her face arranged in an expression that was unmistakably a wide smile. Emma flipped through the album, filled with pictures of a much younger Ava. Ava sitting on a rug surrounded by stuffed animals much larger than her, Ava sleeping in her crib, Ava with her bear, Ava eating something in her high chair. Ava, Ava, Ava.

There weren't any pictures of anyone who looked like they could be Ava's mother but Emma figured that those pictures were probably just hidden away somewhere.

She closed the first album and placed it back in the box, grabbing another and opening it. This one was similar. There was Ava in a pink dress, Ava with a toy crown on her head, Ava sticking out her tongue, and Ava pretending to read one of Killian's books.

This was just further testament to the fact that Killian was nothing but a devoted father. He clearly spent a lot of his time with his daughter, taking care of her, documenting moments of her life.

She flipped the page, fully expecting to find yet another adorable picture of Ava, but the next picture made her blood run cold.

It was a picture of her, Emma, and what appeared to be a newborn Ava.

Emma gaped at the picture, hands tightly gripping the sides of the photo album. She was in the hospital, dark circles under her eyes, hair plastered to her head with sweat, but she'd smiled widely for the camera.

What?

Her head started to spin as she took in the picture. Noticed all of the little details. At first she thought she was just hallucinating, that she was seeing a picture of Ava's mother in the hospital with her newborn daughter but there was no mistaking it. It was Emma in that picture. Emma Swan.

This doesn't make any sense.

On impulse Emma turned the page. Another innocuous picture of Ava hugging a stuffed unicorn. But the next picture...it was Ava blowing out a huge birthday cake in a room that was unmistakably Granny's. And she was surrounded by Mary Margaret, David, and Henry.

Emma's mouth had gone dry. What was going on? Somewhere in the back of her mind she had a feeling but the pieces weren't connecting. "I-it doesn't make any sense." She mumbled hoarsely to herself as she frantically flipped through the album.

A picture of Henry holding a much younger looking Ava, a picture of Ava and Killian, both grinning broadly for the camera; Ava and Emma curled up together on a couch, sleeping; Emma reading to Ava from the book of fairy tales, Emma and Ava, Emma and Ava, Emma and Ava.

Maybe these were taken in the past several weeks. But that was ridiculous. Ava looked unmistakably younger, her hair shorter. She was wearing clothes that Emma had never seen before. They were in a completely different place.

Emma threw the album aside and opened another one so fast she nearly ripped the cover off. More pictures. Emma, Killian, Ava, and Henry at the park; Ava and Henry sitting together in a booth at Granny's, Ava and Ruby, Ava sitting in Emma's desk chair, Emma's badge clipped to her jacket; Ava with chocolate ice cream smeared all over her face; Ava, Mary Margaret, and David at the hospital; there was even one of Ava and Regina.

But above all, there were pictures of herself and Ava. It seemed as though the photographer had been hell bent on capturing the two of them.

Why were there so many pictures of her and Ava? Why, why, why, why, WHY?!

Not all of the pictures had Ava. Many of them featured a pregnant Emma. Pregnant Emma with Henry pretending to talk to her stomach, pregnant Emma and Mary Margaret, pregnant Emma at what looked like to be a baby shower.

Another album. Same thing. More mysterious pictures. It was like a bad dream. Emma pinched herself repeatedly to see if this was just a vision or a dream but she wasn't asleep. This was real.

Emma's heart started to pound so hard she was afraid it'd bruise itself. Where had all these pictures come from? Why did they feature people from Storybrooke...and Killian? Had he lied when he said that he'd never met her before that day in Boston? They had to be photoshopped; she didn't remember any of these events. And yet...they all appeared to be real.

But what was real and what wasn't?

The next picture made her gasp aloud. It was her and Killian. She was dressed in a white gown, her hair pinned up in a chignon. Killian wore what looked like to be some sort of sailor uniform. They stood on the deck of some large ship, a ship she somehow knew to be his.

It was their wedding. The scene from her dream. But it wasn't real. It was just a manifestation of her subconscious.

Right?

Suddenly, it was too much. All. Too. Much. She needed answers. Now. Standing up so fast the pictures scattered everywhere, she bolted out of the room, the picture of the wedding in hand.

Emma thrust the picture under Killian's nose. "Explain this." Her voice had gone steely. "Now."

He went pale as he took in the picture that was mashed up in her fist. "Emma...where did you get that?"

"From the box in the spare room." She answered. It was taking all of her self control not to reach out and strangle him. "Answer me."

"I…"

"DAMNIT, KILLIAN!" Emma shouted, slamming her palm against the wall. "ANSWER ME! ANSWER ME NOW! WHAT IS THIS?! WHY IS THERE A PICTURE OF OUR WEDDING? WHAT IS GOING ON?!"

He looked around nervously, probably hoping that Ava, who was napping in Emma's room, would remain asleep. "Swan. Let me explain."

"EXPLAIN WHAT? EXPLAIN WHY THERE ARE PICTURES OF ME? PICTURES OF ME AND AVA? IN STORYBROOKE? OF EVENTS THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN?!"

"Yes." He replied. Some of the color had gone back into his cheeks but he still looked like he was going to be sick. "Just...calm down and let me explain."

"Alright." Emma crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Explain. Now."

"Do you remember those dreams you've been having?" He started. "They're not just dreams. They're real."

"What?"

"They are memories. Memories of everything you've forgotten. The events in the pictures? They actually happened."

"Everything I've forgotten?" Emma spat. "What are you on?"

"When you were shot in Storybrooke, your heart stopped and you were without oxygen for six minutes. They said you might not wake up."

"What. Are. You. Talking. About?" Emma said through her teeth. "Are you freaking insane?"

"Just hear me out, love. Hear me out, and then you can yell and scream at me all you like." His voice had grown hollow. "As you probably know, you did wake up. And when you did...I realized that you'd lost your memory."

"The last thing you remember was packing to leave Storybrooke, right? Well that's not quite true. That happened three years ago."

Emma's eyes widened to the size of saucers and made a noise of disbelief but remained silent.

"Mary Margaret lied when she said that you were shot when there was an intruder. What actually happened was that someone broke into our apartment and shot you, intending on hurting you to get to me. Or rather, they were aiming at me but you pushed me aside. As a result you lost your memories of the past three years."

"The past three years." Emma interrupted. "You mean...everything that happened in the pictures?"

Killian nodded. "And then some. I won't go into detail about that. After you were shot, you were hell bent on leaving Storybrooke, as the last thing you remembered was preparing to leave. The doctors said that the best thing to do would be to go along with what you believed to be true. Henry and Mary Margaret attempted to get you to stay, but clearly you left and came back to Boston."

He continued. "Us meeting was no accident, Emma. I sought you out that day."

She stared at him. "Why? Who are you?"

Killian licked his lips nervously and looked down. He reached out and took her hand. "I'm your husband. And Ava…"

"Ava…" Emma covered her mouth with her hands as her mind cycled rapidly through the pictures she'd just seen. "Ava's my daughter, isn't she?" she said softly.

Killian nodded.

Alarm bells went off in Emma's head as she took in what he just said. "No." She said automatically, backing up a few steps, a look of horror on her face. "No. No, no, no, no, no!"

"It's true, love. You know it. You've been having dreams about your past, our past, for a while. Look into my eyes. Everything I've told you, it's true."

"No." She insisted. "You're lying. You have to be."

Her head spun. What he was saying...it was crazy. Pure crazy talk. And yet…it made sense. Explained all of the niggling details that had been bugging her for a while. Why she'd been having a dream about a little blonde girl before meeting Ava, why she'd woken up crying for no reason that day, why she and Ava had had such an immediate connection, why the lady at the store had thought Ava was her daughter...the list went on for miles. How she'd known instinctively what Ava's favorite juice was, why Henry had seemed to know exactly who Ava and Killian were.

Her dreams. The pictures. And Henry's crazy story and desperate pleas before she left.

It all fit.

"Why won't you believe me?" He asked desperately. "Use your superpower. You know I'm telling the truth."

"BECAUSE IT MEANS THAT I ABANDONED MY OWN DAUGHTER!" Emma screeched, a strangled sob escaping. "IT MEANS THAT THE MOTHER AVA WOKE UP CRYING ABOUT, THE ONE THAT SHE THOUGHT NO LONGER LOVED HER...IT MEANS THAT IT'S ME!" Tears were spilling down her face as she tried to wrap her mind around all of it, struggled to reconcile the nasty image she'd conjured of Ava's evil mother with...herself.

Killian took an urgent step towards her. "It's not your fault. You didn't know. You've lost your memory. There was no way you could've known."

Emma shook her head, sinking down against the wall. Tears were streaming so fast everything was blurry. "But if she was my daughter. Wouldn't I have felt something? She's my freaking daughter!"

Guilt surged through her everytime she thought about the casual way in which she'd left Storybrooke. She'd left behind her daughter. Something she'd vowed she'd never do with her own kids. She'd been forced to, with Henry. Because the alternative would be raising him in jail. But Ava? She'd willingly left. No wonder Mary Margaret had been so eager to have her stay.

Oh God. She was about to be sick. Ava's tears, her nightmares. Emma was responsible for it. For all of it.

"What have I done?" She whispered.

"Emma." Killian said firmly. "You didn't know." He repeated, kneeling down in front of her, placing a hand on her arm. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't know."

Her shoulders shook as she pictured Ava's look of anguish all over again. The way she'd woken up crying hard about the mother who didn't love her.

It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be true. There was no fucking way Emma would do this to her own daughter, memory loss be damned.

"Get out." She snarled.

"What?" He breathed, shock written all over his face.

"Get. Out." Emma repeated.

"But…"

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I'm done." She stood shakily up and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. "I want you out."

"Emma, listen to me." He touched her arm but she shook him off.

"Don't touch me!" She snapped, striding away and towards the table where she kept her keys. "I let things slide when I found out that you assaulted me in Storybrooke, despite your thin ass story, but this is too much. You need to leave. Now."

"But...what about Ava? She's your daugh..."

Ava. The word stung like salt on a fresh wound. She wheeled around to face him. "No. She's not. She's your daughter. Not mine. When I come back I want you out. Both of you."

And then she slammed the door behind her and was gone.

Author's note: Any thoughts?

Oh yeah, to celebrate the whole 2 year fanfic anniversary thing I will be posting a new CS story tomorrow.