The only plus side that Emma could think of being an orphan was the fact that she would never have to see her parents having sex. Finding a friend mid-coitus with her new, still-technically-married boyfriend should not have been shocking, but Emma was floored when she walked into the apartment announced. Honestly, it really did feel like she had walked in on her parents. Mary Margaret had always reminded her of the "mom" friend of a group, and more than once she had almost jokingly called her that, (she felt the urge to say "Thanks, mom." every time Mary Margaret told her to zip up her jacket because it was cold outside.) but she caught herself before she could. It would hit too close to home.

So she covered her eyes in embarrassment as the duo yelped and attempted to cover themselves up.

"Emma? Is Mary Margaret home?"

Oh god. She had forgotten that Henry was spending the day with her. She quickly leapt into action, and cornered Henry by the door before he could enter.

"Uh, yeah. She's just uh…making some tacos."

Emma mentally kicked herself for that lame excuse, especially because Henry would discover shortly that the tacos were a lie.

Henry sniffed in the direction of the slightly ajar door.

"How come I don't smell anything?" he asked, looking at Emma suspiciously.

"Uhhh…"

"Henry? Is that you?"

An overly eager and flushed (but thankfully-clothed) Mary Margaret turned up at the door.

Henry smiled at her in response.

"Hi Ms. Blanchard! We wanted to invite you to come sailing with us!"

She pulled the door open fully and smiled brightly as Henry trooped in, followed by a disgruntled Emma.

David stood in the kitchen, an equally bright smile on his face.

"Hi Henry!"

Henry's face lit up. He bounded over to the older man. Emma took the opportunity to hiss at Mary Margaret.

"Next time, give me a heads up, okay?!"

Mary Margaret had the decency to blush.

"Sorry Emma! It just happened and I-"

Emma grimaced.

"Don't need details. Got a visual already."

They joined Henry and David in the kitchen just in time to hear the young boy ask loudly where the tacos were. David looked guilty for a second and managed to successfully convince Henry that he had thrown them out because he had left the shells in the oven for too long.

Emma rolled her eyes and laughed.

"As amusing as it is to watch David suffer, I think Henry and I should go."

Henry pouted.

"They should come with us! Since their tacos burnt, they aren't doing anything else!"

It took a lot of effort for Emma not to cackle at David and Mary Margaret's shared look of shame.

"Kid, I think they need some time for themselves."

Mary Margaret blushed, and Henry looked like he wanted to protest, but eventually gave up.

It was a shame that the two love birds couldn't make it, Emma mused as she stood out on the deck of the small schooner. The sea breeze whipped her hair around her face, and she wished she had a hair tie with her. She'd been on a boat once before, with one of the foster families that she had been staying with. They had a house near a large lake, and had a small motorboat that they would take out every now and then. She had hadn't stayed with them long, but that afternoon boat ride they took her on was one of her fondest memories.

"Ahoy there!"

Killian dropped down next to her. He had been securing a sail while Henry manned the helm.

"Isn't she a beauty?"

He gestured around at the boat. Apparently the boat in question, named the Jewel of The Realm, was mostly for show, used for special events. For most of the year, the boat remained moored at the docks. It was an odd sight to see it midst the more modern boats (Henry told her they were called Cape Islanders). Killian had explained that he liked to take the schooner out every now and then, just to make sure that everything was in working order. Henry was excited, because it was apparently more fun to sail, and teased his father about his choice of vessel.

"You just want to show off to Emma." He accused, and much to Emma's shock (and secret joy), Killian bowed his head with embarrassment.

"Ah well, Miss Swan deserves the best, does she not?"

Henry rolled his eyes.

"Dad loves this ship. It's his favourite."

Emma laughed.

"Even though it looks like something out of The Pirates Of The Caribbean?"

Henry laughed at Killian's affronted expression.

"Please, Swan! Captain Sparrow wishes he had the Jewel!"

All in all, it was a wonderful afternoon. Killian and Henry tried to teach her nautical terms (which she knew she wouldn't remember, but their earnestness was endearing) and Killian even let her steer for a bit. He had guided her over to the wheel, and Henry graciously let her take over as he went to check on the ropes for the Bermuda Rig. (She wasn't sure what that was, but it sounded important.) Killian pointed out the carved "P" and "S" and guided her hands to the wheel. He moved closer to her, his breath warm on her neck.

"Moved the wheel two notches towards the S."

She did so dutifully.

"Excellent, Swan. You'd make an excellent sailor."

She was glad he couldn't see her grin. He explained what the P and S stood for, and Emma vowed that if she was to remember anything from the afternoon, it would be Port and Starboard.

When they disembarked, the sun was starting to set. Henry was ahead of them, quick and nimble. He scrambled of the side, heeding his father's warnings to be careful. He moored the ship (ship, not boat, Emma reminded herself. Killian was been testy about that) and Killian helped Emma disembark.

They started to make their way back to the Jones house, which was a mere two blocks away. Killian had confessed that afternoon that the sea calmed him, and had moved closer to the sea after Milah had passed away. Emma hung back and watched Killian and Henry joke around. She was glad that the boy was once again on good terms with his father. He hadn't brought up his father's resemblance to the fairy tale villain in his book, and Emma had to concede that the depiction of Captain Hook did look a little like Killian. She snorted at the thought of the Captain Hook that she was used to, with dramatic hats, permed hair, and waxed mustaches.

They were a block from the house when they ran into Mr. Gold. The older man sneered at them, or rather, sneered at Killian.

"Mr. Jones."

Never had Emma heard anyone say a name with such hatred. On his part, Killian looked confused at the vehemence in Gold's tone.

"Mr. Gold?" he greeted in response, a little confused.

Mr. Gold took in the group, and his lip curled. Emma realized what they must look like, all tousled hair and red cheeks. Almost like a perfect little family. The very thought of family made her stomach drop. She felt like an intruder.

"What a happy little family, artificial as it may be."

Emma felt Killian bristle next to her.

"Excuse me, Mr. Gold, Henry is my son and-!"

Killian said hotly, but Mr. Gold cut him off.

"Ah, but he was Miss Swan's first, was he not? You're good at breaking up families, aren't you?"

With that parting shot, Mr. Gold turned and walked away, leaving a bewildered Killian and an upset Henry in his wake.

Later that night, after Henry had been calmed down, distracted with a board game, bribed with his favourite food, and had passed out on the sofa, Emma approached Killian as he washed up he dishes in the kitchen. She offered to help dry, and he wordlessly accepted.

"What was Mr. Gold talking about?"

Killian stopped. He turned off the tap and turned to face Emma.

"I honestly have no idea, Emma."

He sounded broken, and Emma's heart went out to him. She wanted to reach out and hold him, but without the help of rum giving her courage, her hands remained at her sides.

"Why would he say that?" he asked Emma, in a tone of barely concealed anger.

Emma shook her head.

"I don't know, Killian. If anything, you've tried your hardest to keep your family together." And she meant it.

He drew in a shaky breath.

"I wasn't a good dad at the start. I know I should have been there-" His voice broke and he took a moment to compose himself.

"-but I tried. I really did. It's hard."

And this time Emma did move towards him. Her hands moved to his back, pressing down gently in a motion that she hoped would help calm him. He responded by moving in closer towards her, and he dropped his head into her shoulder, and Emma was shocked about the intimacy of that movement. Shocked but not upset. She felt him breath heavily into her neck, felt him breathe out his tension. Finally he pulled away from her (was Emma imagining his reluctance when he pulled away? She hoped not).

"Thank you, Emma."

He didn't make eye contact with her for the rest of the night, his head ducking down as he bade her goodnight and carried Henry to his room.

Emma sighed, and decided that she should head to bed as well. She had watched Killian lift Henry easily, his muscles barely rippling from the effort. She followed him up the stairs shortly after. She lay down in the bed, the events of the day replaying in a head. For some reason, her mind was stuck between three – Finding Mary Margaret with David, the encounter with Mr. Gold, and Killian's calloused hand gliding over hers as he helped her steer. The buzz of her phone disrupted her thoughts, and she fumbled around on the bedside table before she could locate it. An unknown number had sent her a text message.

I have the answers you seek. 24, Carroll Avenue, tomorrow night. Come alone.