Don't get too excited, but this chapter includes slightly more adult content. There's nothing graphic, but there are some implications of sexual activity. If that's going to bother you, I would suggest that you don't read this one!

Thanks for reading!

The Present

"Rumplestiltskin?" Emma breathed, absolutely floored.

Killian nodded stiffly, a myriad of emotions flying across his face before settling into a grimace.

"Does he know?" She asked next, feeling as though she must have passed into the Twilight Zone.

"No," Killian said, staring absently at his hook.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Demanded Emma. "Did you know who he was when you met?"

"I recognized the name the first time Milah spoke of him, yes. When he... murdered her, I confess that it never came to mind simply because I was too panicked. I saw her heart in his hand and all rational thought was impossible. I doubt that him knowing who my parents were would have stopped him, but still, the thought of what might have been has preyed on my mind for longer than I care to remember."

"And after that?" Emma prompted softly, trying to get him away from whatever thoughts were twisting his face into a mask of regret and pain.

"Well, it seemed like bad form, to speak plainly. Even if it weren't, it would have been useless," Killian said. "I doubt that the crocodile has a conscience to be tortured by, and, at any rate, my parents' actions were not my own. Some wounds run too deeply to be healed by some tenuous past debt."

"I'm sorry," Emma replied, not sure of what else to say.

Killian shook his head. "There's no need to be. My mother wouldn't have been who she was if she'd let him die, and I loved her for who she was. In fact, my parents may never have fallen in love if not for their combined efforts to save Rumplestiltskin. Perhaps they would have lived to see grandchildren with their different lovers, and I would never have existed. Interesting how fate works, isn't it? She's a miserable creature who rejoices in torment. If my parents hadn't saved him, I'd never have been born. Milah may have lived, but Bae may never have gone to Neverland. If he had died two hundred years ago, Henry never would have existed. It seems that magic isn't the only thing that comes with a price."

Emma's head spun as the full impact of his words hit her. If Christine had made one different choice, if she'd ignored her own merciful instincts in the interests of self-preservation, a million lives would have been different. Would her own parents have existed? Would she? How could a single choice made by a single girl - almost a child, really - impact so many lives in the future? The whole concept was mind-boggling.

"Anyway, back to our dear crocodile," Killian continued with a sigh, eyes fading into some tenuous past that only he could see once again.

The Past

"Sweeter than roses, or cool evening breeze

On a warm flowery shore, was the dear kiss,

First trembling made me freeze,

Then shot like fire all o'er.

What magic has victorious love!

For all I touch or see since that dear kiss,

I hourly prove, all is love to me." *

As she finished her song, voice vibrating pleasantly through the wide open space of the woods, Rumplestiltskin let out a low whistle.

"How do you fit so many notes on one word?" He asked incredulously, eyes huge.

"Practice," Christine replied with a shrug, struggling to keep the spring out of her step. It felt amazing to be on her own again and to be outside, without guards or concerts or stifling rooms. There was something about being outdoors that just made her want to sing.

The boy looked at her skeptically and she couldn't help but laugh. "I'm quite serious. You have to learn to control your airflow and-"

Edward let out a groan. "Please, no technicalities," he begged jokingly. "They'll be wasted on those of us with no musical inclination."

"We should reach your spinsters later before noon, I imagine." Christine abruptly changed the subject, shooting Edward a disapproving look.

Rumplestiltskin nodded, looking put-out. Edward immediately looked to Christine to interpret the emotions of the child for him, something that had become habit over the past few days. Christine resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead looking down at the boy kindly. "Is something troubling you?"

The boy shrugged, shuffling his feet a little bit on the dirt path. "The last time I was here, I had a father," I sniffed, rubbing at his eyes with his appallingly filthy sleeve.

Christine stopped short. "My goodness, why didn't you say something?" She asked.

Rumplestiltskin shrugged, staring at his feet.

"I lost my father a short time ago as well," Christine said sympathetically, pulling the boy into her arms. "It's not easy, is it?"

"Was yours murdered as well?" Edward asked, resting his hand gently on the Rumplestiltskin's shoulder.

Christine brought her head up with a snap to stare at him with narrowed eyes, but Edward didn't notice.

"He abandoned me," Rumplestiltskin sniffed. "He doesn't want me. And he took my doll."

"Oh, sweetheart," Christine murmured, forcing herself to return her attention to the distraught boy.

"Do you think that you... would you maybe... would you want to stay with me?" Rumplestiltskin asked, staring up at her with wet eyes. "I never had a mother before, and you're much nicer than my father," he added quickly, glancing at Edward.

Christine's stomach sank. "Don't you like the spinsters?" Asked Edward, looking as lost as she felt with this new development.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "Yes, but if you both stayed, then I'd have a real family with a mother and a father."

Christine looked helplessly at the wet face in front of her, trying to push back the repulsion she felt at being lumped together with Edward after what he'd just said.

"I'm afraid I can't," she told him quietly. "I'm sorry, but I have to go back; I have a brother whose life depends on it."

"It sounds as though your spinsters love you very much," added Edward awkwardly.

It took a while to soothe Rumplestiltskin, but eventually the tears stopped and the trio were able to continue their journey. When they dropped off the boy in front of his house, Christine had to blink back tears of her own.

"You stay out of trouble," Edward said gruffly, ruffling his hair affectionately.

After that, Rumplestiltskin reluctantly entered his house. Christine felt remotely better listening to the faint dialogue wafting out from the house, assured that the boy was in good hands.

"Shall we head back?" Edward asked.

Christine nodded stiffly and turned back towards the forest. For the next hour, Edward attempted to make conversation, only growing more and more confused as she answered with angry monosyllables.

"Did I do something that upset you?" He finally demanded. "I thought that we were-"

"Friends?" Christine whirled around to face him.

"Are you crying?" Edward asked in surprise.

"No, I stopped about a minute ago," she snapped, rubbing at her red eyes violently.

"You're upset to part with the boy?" Edward guessed, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. When she flinched away, his brow furrowed. "What?"

"Was my father poisoned?" She demanded, stepping back to look him fully in the eye.

Confusion crossed Edward's face before giving way to realization. "You didn't know?"

"Did you murder him?"

Edward stared at Christine. Her eyes were hard, but her lower lip was trembling in a rare sign of vulnerability.

"No, I didn't," Edward sighed. "'I swear to you on my life that I was not involved in any way. However, I was aware of the plan."

"I don't understand. Why would they kill him? He didn't do anything but protect us," Christine whispered, hugging herself.

"Because anyone on your side is seen as a threat, and because hurting a loved one is the easiest way to hurt an enemy," Edward explained, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

"So his death was my fault," Christine faltered.

"No, it wasn't," Edward said firmly, pulling her into a tight hug. After a moment's hesitation, she hugged him back.

"You're right. It was the murderer's fault," Christine sighed. "I miss him," she added in a small voice.

"You loved him very much," Edward realized.

"Of course I did. Don't you love your father?"

Edward hesitated for a moment. "Yes, I do. He's never been a very affectionate father and I'll admit that his lust for power often leads him to forget his honour, but I still love him in some ways."

"I loved my father in every way," Christine replied. "Well, not quite every way," she conceded, pulling away from Edward to shoot him an almost wicked grin.

Edward laughed heartily. "I should hope not."

"Thank you," Christine said suddenly.

Her companion tilted his head in a silent question.

"For telling me. I... I'm glad to know," she said. "Maybe now I can feel some closure."

"I hope so. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry that he died," Edward told her seriously.

She smiled sadly. Apologies wouldn't bring her father back. However, coming from Edward, the sentiment meant a lot.

"I think I need a happy song," Christine decided, pushing away the sadness to deal with at a more convenient date. There were few things she despised more than feeling sad.

"I was born of Geordie parents, one day when I was young

That's how the Geordie dialect became me native tongue

That I was a pretty baby, me mother she would vow

The girls all ran to kiss me, well I wish they'd do it now.

Oh I wish they'd do it now, oh I wish they'd do it now

I've got itches in me britches-" **

Edward stopped dead in his tracks, his face turning red as maple leaves in autumn.

"What, did you think that I only sing those horrid posh court songs?" Christine giggled.

The Present

"Why does it not surprise me that your mother sang that sort of song?" Emma said drily.

Killian shot her - as he would say - a "devilishly handsome" smirk.

The Past

"Oh, good lord. You're a virgin, aren't you?" Christine asked, suppressing a smile. "How old are you?"

If possible, Edward turned even more red. "Nineteen last month."

"Happy belated birthday," Christine replied, a grin bursting through in spite of herself.

"You're not," Edward concluded after a moment, looking surprised.

"Pardon?"

"A virgin," he was more and more sure of himself the wider Christine's smirk spread.

"Perhaps not," she conceded, eyes twinkling in merriment.

"When?" Blurted Edward.

"On my sixteenth birthday," she said matter-of-factly. "With the tenor I was singing opposite. Oh, don't look so upset-"

Edward's face now looked like it had reached boiling point. "I'm not-"

"It was at least partially out of pity. The poor man cracked on opening night. Sounded like he'd fallen off the bloody stage."

"You made love to someone for the first time out of pity?" Edward asked incredulously. Christine realized at that point that Edward's charm was not entirely trained courtly mannerisms. The poor man was clearly a hopeless romantic.

"Why, thinking of giving it a try? You'll have to try pretty hard to beat the embarrassment of dear Raoul-"

"I'm sure that I could with high enough stakes," he countered, avoiding her eyes.

"And what would you consider the height of these stakes?" Christine replied, stopping to shoot him a look up through her eyelashes.

"Far too high to risk embarrassing myself until your image of me was beyond repair," Edward murmured, face still faintly red. "No, with stakes as high as these, I would far rather earn your love through an act of courage."

"Like what?" She breathed. Their faces were now only inches apart.

"Like this," he replied, leaning down to press his lips against hers.

The Present

Emma was blushing, and it was embarrassing the hell out of her. "Okay, first of all, there is no way that your parents told you this. And second of all, I really, really don't want to hear about your parents having-"

"Not to worry, Swan, they only shared a kiss," Killian said, amused.

The Past

"Not bad for a virgin," Christine gasped, rummaging for her abandoned clothes-

The Present

"Killian!"

The Past

"You may be a virgin, but you've kissed before," Christine smiled against his lips.

"A kitchen maid back home," he agreed. "Father sent her away after he caught us kissing a few weeks later."

"Mmm," Christine hummed, for once feeling quite comforted by having his eyes glued on her own. Up close, they weren't just blue-grey. They had flecks of gold and brown and a rim of dark blue like a stormy ocean. She could see every detail of his face, including a few freckles she'd never seen before.

"What?" He asked with a smile.

"You're beautiful," she breathed.

"That's what I'm supposed to say, I believe," he murmured, kissing her again. She found herself sagging against him, feeling safer than she had since she'd left the Southern Isles.

The Present

Emma rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I get the idea. What happened next?"

The Past

The return journey was a pleasant one, full of polite caresses and stolen looks. Christine snuck back into the palace with Edward's help, but then, after a tender kiss goodbye, he left again. They both agreed that it would be suspicious if they came back to the palace at exactly the same time. Edward's cover story was that he was searching for Rumplestiltskin in nearby villages and woods. He decided that he would "continue" doing that for another week or so.

A few days later, Christine emerged looking flushed and thin, but, as the doctor assured the king, no longer contagious. No one questioned her story, although Christine frequently felt the weight of Lord Alasdair's gaze. She wasn't certain whether he didn't believe her, though, or whether she'd just forgotten how disdainful his looks were.

It was significantly harder to hide her affection for Edward when he returned than she'd anticipated. Over dinner, she caught his eye and started to blush. Fortunately, the king only remarked that he believed she'd had too much wine. However, Edward's smiling also caught his eye.

"I'm just pleased to be back in your presence, your grace," he said with a polite incline of his head.

Christine had to fake-choke on her chicken to cover her ungainly laughter.

Then, of course, she'd had to sing. Everyone remarked that they had never heard her sound better. Edward raised his glass to her in a silent toast, and she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face.

As she was walking back to her room, strong arms pulled her into an alcove. Suddenly, she was swept into a soft, delicious kiss.

"Did you miss me?" Edward asked, his whisper dancing across her face.

"Edward, you have to be more careful! Someone could see," she laughed.

Footsteps approached the alcove.

"How dare you insult me. I'm certainly far more hygienic than you, sailor," Christine hissed.

The footsteps passed by.

"That's a good strategy, actually," Edward murmured, pulling her closer towards him. "We could have a great deal of fun with this."

Fun was perhaps an understatement.

"I would challenge you to a duel, but I fear that I am too much of a gentleman to insult a lady's intelligence by implying that she had a chance of beating me. Perhaps a duel of wits?"

"I would agree, but, as a general rule, I find it to be bad form to engage in a duel of any sort with an unarmed man."

"After living so long in the jungle, it must be difficult for you to do such things as actually wear shoes, bathe, or dance. Tell me, was it hard to learn when you returned to civilization?"

"It was relatively easy, considering that there are men like you who could make an inebriated bear look graceful."

By day they insulted each other with glee, only pulling each other into the occasional corner for a kiss, while by night they complimented each other on their wit. Edward would sneak into Christine's room nightly for them to talk about everything, and it seemed that they only grew closer the more time they spent together. Christine discovered that Edward was not only charming, but kind, honourable, and intelligent. She was continually amazed by his capacity to listen and even open up her mind to possible alternative ways of thought when they broached a topic she was already decided upon. For his part, Edward enjoyed Christine's vivacity, kindness, and strong opinions. Something about two people from such different backgrounds allowed for an intellectual relationship of continual growth, which was perhaps why Christine found herself falling in love far more quickly than she imagined.

Perhaps that could explain why, on her seventeenth birthday, she took a calculated risk.

That night, as Edward snuck into her room, he found Christine waiting with her cloak already on.

"For my birthday, I want you to meet someone," she said brusquely, turning him around. "Here, wear this." She tossed him a second cloak.

Edward's brow furrowed in confusion.

His confusion only grew as they left the palace.

"Is this a kind way of telling me that you have a mistress?" Edward joked, mouth twitching.

"Hush," she said.

Her sister was exactly where she was expecting, sitting at their usual table. She'd clearly been expecting Christine as well, because a cup of whiskey was already sitting in her usual spot. Christine couldn't help but admire how beautiful her sister had grown up to be. Her skin reminded Christine of black velvet, her eyes were large and framed by long eyelashes, and Christine was envious of how much more shapely her sister was in comparison to her own stick figure.

"Sari, allow me to introduce Edward," Christine said with a smile. "Edward, this is my sister."

Edward looked between them in confusion, clearly wondering how it was possible for them to be related.

"Adopted sister," Sari clarified with a shy smile, standing. "It's a pleasure. I've heard so much about you."

Edward bowed politely in greeting. Sari, after a moment's hesitation, bounded forward and squeezed him in a quick, nervous hug.

"I don't want us on bowing terms," she explained, blushing slightly.

Initially, Christine had been nervous to introduce her sister to Edward, if only because they were such opposite personalities. Where Edward was mostly calm and assertive, Sari was flighty and shy to almost muteness among strangers. However, to Christine's surprise, they seemed to get along; Edward's warm mannerisms seemed to draw her sister out of her shell remarkably quickly.

"Christine, I have a present for you!" Sari squeaked about two drinks later, clapping her hands to her mouth.

"You shouldn't have," Christine said earnestly.

"Here!" Sari offered her something small and silver (after dropping it on the floor twice in her haste to pick it up).

"Oh! That's beautiful," Christine breathed.

It was a silver ring with a large, smooth red stone in the center.

"I know it's probably quite common for palace standards, but I thought it was pretty," Sari said quickly.

"I love it," Christine gushed, drawing her sister into a warm embrace.

The Present

Emma looked pointedly at Killian's right hand.

"Aye, it's the one that looks slightly less, for lack of a better term, pirate-ish," Killian acknowledged.

The Past

"You know, I was really thinking that I was actually correct about the mistress idea. Not that you had one, of course, but that your father did. I mean, besides your sister also being a gorgeous woman, the physical similarities between you are rather lacking," Edward said, helping Christine take her cloak off back in her room.

"I am sorry that I didn't introduce you sooner-"

"But you wanted to ensure her safety. I understand. I would feel the same way about Jayne," he said with a crooked smile.

Christine frowned slightly. "You know it's not that I don't trust you, because I do-"

"But you have fears about losing your family, and you don't want to take unnecessary risks. I understand," he finished for her.

Christine buried her head in his shoulder, feeling completely at peace. Something about having someone who knew her so completely was liberating. Who knew that their first kiss seven months ago would lead to this?

"You didn't tell me it was your birthday," he commented. "If I'd known, I would have got you something."

"You didn't need to," Christine murmured.

"I know why you didn't tell me," Edward said matter-of-factly.

"Why?"

"Because I know what you were doing at this time a year ago," he teased.

"Oh hush," Christine murmured, placing her lips firmly against his. When she pulled away, it was with a sigh. "My father was alive last year."

Edward pulled away to examine her thoroughly, tracing a finger gently along her jawline. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," she said, surprised at how honest it felt coming from her lips. Of course, the grief of losing her father would never fully go away, and her brother's situation continually preyed on her mind. However, having Edward was a blessing that she was grateful for every day.

"You know," she began thoughtfully, "I think I know what you could give me for my birthday."

The next morning, Christine woke up feeling thoroughly content, nestled gently against Edward's chest.

"Good morning," she whispered, looking up lazily into her lover's sleep-addled eyes.

"Last night," Edward began, clearing his throat.

Christine glanced up at him nervously.

"What did I do that was embarrassing enough to beat Raoul?"

The Present

"Well, at least you didn't make it graphic," Emma sighed, sounding vaguely impressed at his self-restraint.

Killian looked offended. "Swan, do use your common sense. These are my parents we're talking about. There are some boundaries no man should cross, or want to cross."

"So, your parents were pretty happy, but I'm guessing it didn't last?" Emma prompted softly.

"I suppose you recall the resistance that my aunt mentioned to my mother? Well, while my parents were busy falling in love, the resistance was busy planning something else."

"Freeing your mother?" Guessed Emma.

"Ruining lives," Killian said.

*By an anonymous author.

** English trad.