Henry's nightmares began his first weekend at Neal's apartment while Emma was working. He tried to hide them from everyone, including his mother during their daily conversations. She saw through him.

"You aren't sleeping well," she accused, her hand and chin resting on her knees as she held the phone out to study his pixelated face. "Don't lie to me, kid. I want to know what's wrong."

"Just a few bad dreams," Henry muttered, trying to change the topic back to Killian's plans for a jazz band and how he wanted to make the cut. "I don't think he'll make it easy for me, but it should be doable. I did some sight reading on the piece I have to prepare and it almost sounded right."

"I'm sure you'll do a great job with it, but maybe you should hold back on all these activities. You've got honor band and school orchestra. Then you've got writing workshop, newspaper staff, baseball practice games, and I got an email about you making the yearbook staff. When are you expecting to study?"

"You forgot service league," Henry said, pulling the sleeve of his sweatshirt over his hand. "I know it's a lot, but my grades are good."

"Alright," Emma conceded with a sigh. "Check with your dad though, okay? And probably Killian too since he'd have to deal with getting you home from that." She tilted her head to the side. "So about these bad dreams. What are they about?"

Henry did his best turtle impression as he pulled inward and looked very uncomfortable. "Just the standard stuff. Monsters chasing me. You know."

"And you aren't hiding anything from me?" She cleared her throat. "No bad test grades? No fights with Violet, your dad, Tamara, Killian? I haven't done anything to scar you, right?"

"Mom, they're just dreams."

Back when Emma and Henry first moved back to Storybrooke and Neal took more of a role in his son's life, Henry had suffered each night from a string of nightmares that sent him to Emma's bed. By morning he wanted to pretend they didn't exist. However, she could still see the streaks and tracks of his tears over their breakfast. Each night became a battle where he didn't want to go to sleep. Neal blamed Emma for badmouthing him and his father. Emma blamed Neal for letting Henry watch the wrong things on television. But just as suddenly as the dreams came on, they were gone and Henry was back to his cuddling, lovable self.

"You know you can call me anytime, right? I don't care what time it is or why you would want to talk. You're my priority, kid."

"I know," Henry said thoughtfully. "There is one thing you could do. It's about Killian though."

Emma tried not to smile too brightly at the mention of her fiancé. She was so used to hiding her relationships and dates from her son that it still seemed strange to have him know just how happy she was with Killian. However, she still wanted to be careful that Henry understood he was her number one priority. If for any reason he wanted her to call things off with Killian, she would figure out something. "Ok…what is this mystery request?"

"Can you talk to him about breakfast. He said now that you're away that we should think about eating healthier. He said no more poptarts for breakfast, mom. I'm dying here. I need my cinnamon poptarts."

Emma bit back a laugh at Henry's dramatics. "I'll talk to him. Meanwhile, I've got a stash hidden from Mr. Home Cook. Check the third drawer down behind the immersion blender. They are hidden in an oven mitt."

***AAA***

Ingrid fingered the silky material of the blouse between her digits, not looking at the product but rather studying Elsa's more pensive expression. "We can pretend we're interested in these all day, Elsa, but I think you're just stalling. What is it you want to say to me?"

"Nothing? I mean, nothing. I'm fine." The younger blonde pulled one of the tops out, holding the blue material against her and rotating toward her aunt. "What do you think?"

"Do you really need something else blue? You have quite a few blue and purple pieces, dear." Ingrid was a fine one to talk, as most of her wardrobe consisted of winter whites and taupe or beige. Anna used to wonder if Ingrid ever spilled anything, as such colors were hard to keep clean.

"I guess I just like it," she answered thoughtfully, holding the fabric out to study it more. "I guess it is comfortable to me." She giggled that uncomfortable little titter she gave whenever she didn't want to say something. "Maybe I should look at the sweaters."

"Maybe you should tell me what's going on? I thought we were going to have dinner in tonight? I want to see this new condo of yours past the living room." Even at her most confrontational, Elsa's aunt was soft spoken and kindly with her nearly whispered tone. It had been annoying to Elsa and Anna when they were younger, as they had not wanted to quiet down enough to listen to the woman. However, Elsa could now appreciate the understated elegance of her mother's sister.

"Liam has some of the guys from the band over to work on a new song they wrote. I didn't think you'd want to listen to all that." She pushed the blouse back into place and turned to a rack of cowl neck sweaters in the same variety of shades. "I thought we could have dinner at the Italian place and then head over to the condo. Liam's working tonight so they won't be too long."

Ingrid circled the rack and picked up one of the sweaters. "So that's it," she said softly. "He doesn't like me around."

"What? No, that's not it at all. Liam's just busy and the band doesn't have much time these days with everyone's jobs. I thought you would prefer…"

"I would prefer you tell me the truth. I realize that he might be a bit uncomfortable around me since I am your only family besides Anna. However, if he's serious about a future with you, he needs to be a man and step up. What's he hiding, dear? Why won't he look me in the eye."

Dropping the sleeve of the sweater she was holding, Elsa sucked in a deep breath through her nose. "Aunt Ingrid, I know that you mean well, but Liam is not avoiding you. He's busy with work, his music, and helping his friends and his brother. He's a good man. You shouldn't be so hard on him."

Ingrid clicked her tongue against the top of her mouth. "I know that you think so, Elsa, but we all get blinded by what we think of as love. Are you sure that you aren't ignoring some pretty big warning signs. He's a grown man and yet he works as a bar tender and dreams of making it big in the music industry. That doesn't sound very responsible to me. You didn't sit around waiting to be discovered. You've had a great career and ample opportunities to make it in other ways. I hate to say it, but maybe he's just hanging on to you to keep his eye on the music business."

Two women in the midst of shopping drew aa little too close to the aunt and niece, leaving Elsa to quietly count to ten before she responded. "It isn't like that."

Patting Elsa's arm consolingly, Ingrid gave her a soft smile. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but you have to pay attention to these things. In addition to your rising career, you and Anna have quite a bit of money from your parents' estates. It's not unheard of for a man to seek out a woman such as yourself, thinking he might…"

"Enough," Elsa said firmly. "I don't recall you having these conversations with Anna about Kristoff. I'm capable of taking care of myself. Don't forget that I have done so for a while now. Liam and I are happy and in love. He's not after me for money or fame."

"I hope you're right, dear."

***AAA***

Ruby swirled her spoon in the murky water that was becoming the warm tea that Granny and Mary Margaret had requested. She was glad to see her friend back from her honeymoon and even happier to know that Granny was returning to normal after her scare and hospital stay. Actually Granny was refusing to admit there had even been a problem, insisting on working the same long hours and not doing much in the way of changing her diet. However, one visit from the newly married teacher and she was reclined on the sofa in the private quarters with a blanket over her legs.

"It sounds lovely," Granny remarked after Mary Margaret described the mountain cabin where she and David had spent more than a week. The small cabin did sound like a quaint getaway, complete with deer frolicking in the yard and birds chirping hello each morning as they sat on window boxes. "I should think about taking a little vacation one of these days."

Ruby resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the image of her grandmother doing anything relaxing. She'd probably spend the whole time worrying about the staff and calling in instructions that had woken her in the middle of the night. There was little doubt that she would insist on daily reports of the inventory and draw. There was no concept of sitting under a palm tree with an umbrella drink or curling up with a good book in front of the fire at a mountain cabin.

"I highly recommend it," Mary Margaret said, reaching a hand out to place on the edge of the blanket near Granny's knee. "But I am more interested in hearing about you. How are you? Are you still having any pain? You all should have called me the moment there was a concern."

"You were on your honeymoon," Ruby muttered, taking a sip of what could only be called the weakest tea ever. "I think that's a good enough excuse."

"Granny is family to me," the pixie haired brunette challenged with a defiant raise of her chin. "I wanted to know."

"I assure you that I was and am fine," Granny said just as defiantly. "It was just a bit of tiredness and a touch of indigestion. Now I don't want that spread all over the place, as it's bad for business. Imagine if Leroy or one of the guys decided they didn't want fried food or garlic. I might as well go out of business."

"You'll always have me as a customer," Mary Margaret assured her with a meaningful grin over her cup. "The baby is already making me crave lasagna. I actually wanted it for breakfast this morning."

Granny laughed at that, her head thrown back and silvery gray curls bouncing. "You can have that any time of the day. Ruby, make sure the staff knows that this baby gets anything on the menu or off of it. I don't want to hear that this doll had to fight to feed her baby."

Ruby considered reminding Granny that nobody was ever turned away from a special request. However, she nodded and pretended to commit the command to memory. "Anything in the kitchen for the baby. Got it." She shot a pointed look at her pregnant friend. "As much fun as this has been ladies, I need to get back to work for the dinner rush. Leroy hasn't given up fried foods or fatty ones yet. And I bet since his lunch got cut short it's going to be a big order tonight."

Kicking at the blanket, Granny patted Mary Margaret's arm and lumbered after her granddaughter with instructions about portion size. "Don't give them more than they paid for, Ruby. I'm not running a charity here."

"I've got it, Granny."

***AAA***

Killian groaned as he tried to decipher another student's muddled answer of the differences between treble and bass clef notes. It was his standard test for the first month of classes, one that had been handed down from the previous three music teachers. Yet the students always seemed so shocked and confused by the questions. Stretched out on the sofa with his red pen in one hand and a stack of papers against his bent legs, thumbed through the stack to see if it had somehow miraculously shrunk in the past hour.

He'd relegated himself to that spot after a nearly hour long conversation with Emma, wishing again that she was there. He would still have had a mountain of grading to get through, but it somehow seemed more doable with her curled up on the couch with him. He could hear her humming along with some new track that Regina had sent her. Her blonde hair would be piled on her head messily as her feet tapped playfully against his in her rainbow stripe socks. She'd sneak him smiles over her own stack of paperwork and roll her eyes when he pulled her over for a kiss.

While the thought of such casual intimacy helped to relieve a bit of the headache and heart ache that gnawed at him, he could not help but feel a bit helpless. Emma always buried her feet beneath his thighs, claiming that she was just trying to get warm. Without her socks she was usually chilled, something he teased her about most nights in bed. He wondered if she was warm in her hotel room, hoping that she was taking care of herself and not suffering from the chill that seemed to have taken up permanent residence.

In a little while they would start their usual text conversation that would start with whether or not Henry had brushed his teeth and then skirt the lines of appropriate conversation if anyone ever saw it. However, he was tempted to text her right then, knowing she wouldn't get it until after she came back from her scouting mission in a club in Baltimore. His hand hovered over the phone with words filling his head just as he heard the sound from Henry's room.

A cross between a grunt and a yelp, Henry's voice called out for his mother. Killian let the papers fall off his lap as he jumped up from the sofa, nearly tangling with the knitted throw that Granny had given Emma years ago. He hesitated only a moment, unsure how Henry would respond to someone other than his mother. However, the thought left his mind as the boy called out a little more desperately this time.

In seconds Killian was flipping on the bedside lamp and dropping to his knees next to the rumpled sheets and curled up son of his fiancé. "Lad? Henry?" he asked softly, not wanting to further agitate the boy. Henry's eyes were shut and his hair matted to his forehead as he scrunched his face into a tight and pained expression. "Are you okay?"

In between another of the mournful sounds, Henry's eyes popped open and his confused gaze landed on Killian. "What…ummm…Killian?"

"Hi there, lad," Killian offered softly, his accent thicker as pulled the blanket up around Henry. "Sounds like quite the nightmare there."

The rush of red to Henry's cheeks was quick and obvious as he tried to turn away from the kind but curious eyes. "It's not a big deal," he muttered, yanking the blanket back. "You can go back to…"

Dropping back on his heels, Killian shrugged his shoulders. "I was grading papers, bloody awful ones if you must know the truth. I could use a bit of a break should you allow it. Why not tell me about this dream? Perhaps I could be of some help."

"I'm not a kid. Only kids have bad dreams and cry for their moms."

"Well I'd be willing to bet that there a great many adults who would disagree, but let's say you're right on that for the moment. Clearly you had a dream that upset you. Now we can discuss it and come up with a possible solution or I can be forced to lie to your mother when I talk to her later and she asks after your well-being."

"You don't lie to mom."

"Aye, it's not a great thing to do, but I also don't wish to worry her what with her being a few hours away right now. So you've got my attention and help if you want it. Otherwise we can talk about our road trip this weekend. I was thinking that we might take the interstate straight down to Connecticut. There's a pretty good taco place and this one place that sells chicken that Liam just loves. We could stop for dinner there on the way. Then I was thinking on the trip back…"

"My mom's drowning," Henry blurted out, still looking at the wall rather than the man next to him. "In my dream, I mean. She's drowning. I keep trying to get to her, but she's going out farther and there's something pulling me back."

"That does sound quite frightening," Killian said thoughtfully. "And then you wake up?"

"She goes under the water and it feels like I can't breathe either. I can't…I don't want to lose her."

"I'm not exactly favoring that idea myself. Maybe we can figure out if it means something else. I don't know much about this stuff, but we could try looking up meanings on the internet. What do you say, Henry? Feel like doing some research?"

***AAA***

Liam recorked the bottle and placed it gingerly on the shelf with a quiet thump. The Rabbit Hole had been busy for a weeknight, but that only made the time go faster. After a productive session with Will, Jefferson, and Robin, he was flying high and even a few low tipping patrons did not seem to bother him.

"This is a lovely surprise," he said when Elsa arrived, her tentative smile giving him a much needed break. She pressed her kiss to his lips lightly before finding her usual spot against his chest and tucked up under his chin. "I thought you were entertaining your aunt this evening."

"I was," she said, not offering more explanation than that. "I missed you." She didn't pull away even when one of the other employees gave Liam a knowing and annoyed look.

"I was horrible brute to have not considered holding rehearsal some place else, darling. You and your aunt shouldn't have had to make yourselves scarce."

"It's your condo too."

"Aye, but it's hardly a part of my priorities to make things comfortable for Will or Robin. The verdicts still out on Jefferson." With one arm still around her, he tossed the bottle opener onto the counter. "How much longer is your aunt staying?"

"I don't want to talk about her. Can we just…"

She didn't have to finish the request, feeling his grip tighten. "Of course, darling. I was simply making conversation." He paused long enough to tell his assistant to mind the bar for a moment, leading her to the office that usually doubled as storage. It was a small l-shaped room that housed a desk and computer for him, as well as a bench seat that had once been part of the dining area décor.

She collapsed onto it with a huff. "You know I love you, right?"

His eyes seemed slightly amused by her more obvious statement, but he thought better of laughing. "Aye, as I love you. Is there a reason you would think I wasn't aware?"

"I know you do. I just wanted to confirm it." She dipped her forehead against his shoulder. "Where's Zelena?"

"Likely moved onto her next target," Liam said with a chuckle escaping. "That Walsh character stopped by earlier. He insisted on taking her away from all this drudgery as he called it."

She didn't lift her head or really respond, despite the fact that hearing Walsh's name reminded her of his slimy ways around Emma that had ended with a slap across the face and a drink thrown at him. Elsa had laughingly told Emma that it was the most soap opera thing she had ever heard of in real life. "I don't know if she's coming back but I wanted us to have dinner with Aunt Ingrid. I did until she was so…"

His hand was stroking through the long thick blonde tresses of her hair and the other resting at her hip. "So that's what this is about," he acknowledged knowingly. "She doesn't approve of me, does she?"

"I honestly don't think she'd approve of anyone I dated. But I don't really want to find that out. I'm happy with you, Liam. More than happy…"

"I could try harder, perhaps charm her a bit. What do you think?" Still burrowed into his collar, she did not see the mirth in his expression. "It's been a while since I had to worry about the family of a woman I was wooing, but I suppose I could remember the finer points."

Elsa finally tilted her head back a bit, revealing the unsprung tears that threatened. "She should already like you. She should be impressed by you. You are smart, kind, loving, talented…"

The hand that had been at her side was suddenly tracing along her cheek. "You are quite good at stroking my ego, darling. And as for your aunt, I suppose she will be hard on any bloke who was attempting to be deserving of your affections. You have said she is all that remains of your mother's family. She probably has a sense of obligation to protect you."

"I guess," Elsa said with a sad sigh. "But I don't need protecting from you."

He winked at her. "You don't find me dark and dangerous, darling?"

For the first time since the door had closed to the bar, she smiled a genuinely happy grin. "I don't know about dangerous, but you do seem like the type of man who likes to think that he is a risk taker. But in reality you're a softy who cries at movies I like and pretends like I can't see…"

"One time," he said with his gruff denial. "One bloody time I shed a tear over that old couple dying on the same day with their hands entwined. I dare you to find a man who wouldn't become a bit misty eyed at the sight of it."

***AAA***

On Friday Henry had fallen asleep a good two hours before Killian even reached the state line, leaving the soon to be stepfather humming along with the soft music on the radio and reading the occasional road sign along the route. Calling Emma a few moments before he exited the interstate had been the least romantic way to let her know of their imminent arrival, but he wasn't sure that he could prop the sleeping boy up and carry their overnight bags without risking life and limb in the name of a surprise.

She was waiting for them in the parking lot, her hands rubbing her arms in place of a coat that he had told her to wear. The burgundy top she wore sparkled in the combination of moonlight and lights from the parking lot, a part of her business/club attire that she had jokingly said was not normal for any other career that was legal. She had forgone the high heels that she normally wore with the skirt of leather and denim, replacing them with a fuzzy pair of slippers that Killian had slipped in her suitcase against her wishes. He tried not to feel justified seeing her wear them.

Before he had even turned the key in the ignition, she was yanking open the door and stretching to wrap herself around him with a smacking kiss. "Missed you!" she said emphatically, only then realizing that she was that loud. Thankfully Henry didn't budge.

"And I you," he assured her, keeping an arm around her as he reached for his seat belt. "Wasn't going to last another day without you."

"Sap," she said, pulling back to standing. "But I feel the same. Come on. Let's get you two inside before we freeze. I think we skipped autumn and went straight to winter."

Ignoring his protests, she threw their bags over her shoulder and was already halfway to the door before he had a now partially conscious Henry lumbering behind her. He didn't miss the affectionate smile she gave her son or the mouthed thank you as Killian righted the boy just in time.

Her suite, such as it was, included two smallish bedrooms and a shared bathroom that would require a bit of fancy scheduling. A multiuse room was between the sleeping areas that included a couch and what could only in loose terms be called a kitchenette with its two burner stove and refrigerator that was the size of a small box.

"Home sweet home," she said as she disappeared into what would be Henry's bedroom for the long weekend. "Such as it is." Like most busy moms, she directed her sleep addled son through the process of getting ready for bed as she dug through his bag for pajamas and pulled back the covers. Killian couldn't help but appreciate her precision and flexibility, as no steps were wasted and she seemed to have more than two hands to do it. He helped as he could, shoving a toothbrush in Henry's mouth and helping her find the light switch to reduce the glaring lights that would have prevented sleep.

Once Henry was in the bed, awkwardly sleeping face down with one leg hanging in midair, Emma followed Killian into the other room and laughed as he dropped to the lumpy sofa. "I have a new respect for you," he said, opening his arms wide to welcome her. "After a week alone with the lad, I'm not sure how you managed to balance work, your life, and raising him. I must ask though. Do you really allow him a breakfast of nothing but poptarts and juice?"

Her laughter was light, though she gave him a bit of a slap to his shoulder as she settled into his embrace. "There's nothing wrong with poptarts. I used to survive on them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They are like a meal all to themselves. Grain, fruit, dairy… Add some bacon and what more do you need? And you don't complain when I eat them."

"They are junk," Killian said with a sigh. "But I suppose you are right about me not complaining about your affinity for them. Might have to do with how sweet your kiss tastes afterward." His normally charming smile was masked by a deep yawn and his head falling against the cushions.

"Rough week?"

"Aye, Gold's got us doing extra observations and evaluations. Henry's class can't seem to master this one piece before the upcoming assembly. I managed to delete the alarm app on my bloody phone and spent six hours trying to get it back before I had to get help from Henry. By the way I now owe him a new car on his 16th birthday for that one. I went in to record some of that tune for you and Elsa, only to find out that the mixer broke so I must return later this month. And I was a bloody mess without you, love."

Using the back of her hand, she rubbed against his stubble covered jaw. "I missed you too." Her eyes closed slowly, drooping heavily. "How is he, really? Any problems?"

"I can't say that my lone psychology class qualifies me to analyze dreams, but he seems a bit better now that he speaks about it. Perhaps it is just a bit of a phase?"

The buttons on his shirt were rough against her cheek. "Thank you. I know I say it so much lately that it has probably lost meaning, but I do mean it. You're being pretty great about all this. I know when you asked me to marry you that you weren't thinking you'd be on daddy duty quite so soon."

Chin resting on the crown of her head, he sighed deeply. "I don't view it as a job. I feel rather honored that you would include me in on this thing you have going. I never gave much thought to becoming a father or father figure. So it's taking a bit of time and study, but I hope I'm doing well at it."

She tightened her grip on his forearm. "A great job," she told him. "Well except for the poptarts."