So a week from now I'm going to see A&E, JMo, and Colin talk about the new episode and I get to watch a screening of it. I'm so excited for that. But meanwhile he's another chapter. Loving the theories of who Elsa's stalker might be. This chapter looks at two theories. Thanks for all the feedback and comments!

Elsa peered out the window of her former townhome and winced at the sight of the beige car across the street. There was nothing that noticeable about the vehicle or the man. Neighbors probably thought he was simply waiting on someone. However, she knew the truth. He was a last minute add from Regina to her security detail, a former police officer who did freelance work for entertainers. Tall and rather unassuming with his barely moving facial features, he had introduced himself and then asked her if she had any special requests or plans.

"It's creepy," Anna said from her spot at the kitchen island, a plate of freshly baked cookies sitting before her. "Not having a bodyguard. I think that's kind of neat, actually. It's certainly a sign that you've made it big. But you looking out the window at him looking for danger against you? That's creepy."

Elsa let the floral curtain drop back into place and spun back to face her sister. "You're welcome to have your own 24/7 guard. I'm not sure that I understand the theory of having a man sitting outside like a stalker to protect me from another stalker. That's what's creepy."

Anna had unwound her hair from her usual plaited style, the amber tresses flowing in a subtle waving pattern down her back. While some liked to tease her about the sometimes childish fascination with braids, she actually looked younger with the thick mane framing her lightly freckled face. Cookie and a glass of milk in hand didn't help her maturity.

"He's here to protect you. I for one am grateful for that. I mean could you imagine if something happened to you? I wouldn't be okay, Elsa. I can't be an only child. Who would I talk to? Sing with? Enjoy eating cookies with? You're not actually eating the cookies, but you understand my point. We're sisters. We have to look out for each other. Do you not like these cookies? You helped make them. If you wanted something different, you should have said."

Resisting the natural tendency to roll her eyes, Elsa reached over and grabbed a cookie, taking a dramatic bite of it before swallowing. "See. I like the cookies."

"He seems nice. Your bodyguard. Maybe we should invite him." While the sisters had first gathered to talk about the security concerns, go through the playlist for possible songs that Elsa could cover alone during Anna's self-imposed pregnancy break, and just enjoy some time together, it had turned more domestic. Conversation was about the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday that Mary Margaret and David were hosting. The sisters had been tasked with helping with the menu planning, something they were discussing in earnest.

"To Thanksgiving?"

Anna gave her sister an annoyed glare. "Of course. Even if they have caught your stalker by then. It's a nice gesture, right? He doesn't have good taste in car colors, but he's good otherwise. I have been thinking about colors a lot lately for the baby's room. I was thinking to go with gender neutral. No pinks or blues, but then what if the baby really likes pinks or blues. Do you know if this bodyguard guy has a family? I could ask him. You know get a guy's opinion other than Kristoff's."

"He's probably got family. I'm sure he has other plans."

If Elsa expected an argument to her theory, she didn't get one as Anna moved on to the next topic of menu etiquette and whether Liam and Killian might be offended by the holiday's traditions. Elsa provided few suggestions, but was not fully engaged in the conversation. For a while Anna pretended she was getting more than monosyllabic answers.

"Do you want to trash this and try something else?" Anna asked about one of the recipes she was pondering online. "I think I saw a similar one that didn't include nuts. Maybe that would be better? Is anyone allergic?"

Elsa peeked through the crack in the curtains, straining her long neck to see. "Do you think I know this person? Or is he a fan?"

Anna lowered her pen slowly, thoughtfully running her perfectly white teeth over her bottom lip. "I have a theory about that, but you probably don't want to hear it."

"Has that ever stopped you before?" Elsa bit into another cookie, her ice blue eyes studying her sister carefully. They had always been opposites in most regards. Elsa, an introvert and reserved leader, had their mother's fair skin and hair. Anna's rambunctiousness was just like their father, as were her wide set eyes and rust colored hair. Both had secretly envied the beauty of the other growing up, wondering how they could be related and yet so different.

"You remember that man I dated before Kristoff?" she asked, her voice sounding timid rather than confident. "Hans?"

"Hard to forget a guy so crazy he tried to kill us," Elsa said sourly, biting again at the mint chocolate chip creation. "You haven't heard from him, have you?"

"No, no, no," Anna insisted, shaking her head violently at the idea. "He's probably still lying on a psychiatrist's couch recounting his childhood. But then I thought maybe not. Could he be the one stalking you? He didn't really like you very much."

***AAA***

Emma managed to drive Henry home unscathed, her anger simmering below the surface as he chatted over the events of the day and how Violet had kissed his cheek. Try as she might, she was struggling to come up with anything motherly to say about that display of affection. Thankfully he was not too aware of her distraction, his words falling out as fast as anything she had seen or heard.

"You're not coming in?" He asked, hoisting the backpack over his shoulder and peering back into the car. "Do you have to work?"

"Not exactly. I just need to do something. Tell Killian I'm going to be late," she said, leaning forward so she could meet his eyes. "And get your homework done before any screen time, okay?"

His lips were parted to argue, give some sort of snide reply to the idea of not being able to at least watch one television show or play one level of his latest video game obsession before tackling the history of Maine. He must have thought better of it, readjusting his bag on his shoulder. "See ya. Love ya." It was their familiar refrain that she repeated back to him, only adding the word more to the end of it. He echoed it too, changing more to most before waving and darting up the couple of steps into the house.

He was growing up into what she hoped was a fine young man. He still believed in magic and hope, despite having been disappointed by people. It was a wonder, she thought, noting that she was the most cynical of all. He had a good heart and a friendly personality that won him lots of friends. And he was smarter than she could even imagine, having no problems in school at all. She and Neal were lucky. She hoped Neal realized that.

Making a wide turn with her small car, she drove back the few blocks to the center of town where Gold's Pawn Broker and Rare Antiquities was still open at the corner just two streets from the library. Neal seemed to think that his time and energy were best served at the dusty old shop where his father's hoarding obsession turned profitable on the rare occasion someone bought something. Most people treated the shop like some sort of museum, marveling over collections of outdated useless technology as art rather than for purchase.

She was not even sure what Neal did there all day other than dust and sweep an occasional trail through the room. So she was not surprised to find him absently running a cloth over the smudged glass of a display case full of antique costume jewelry. Finger prints and the ring of a cold drink had marred the surface, but his lazy strokes would not do much good.

"Neal!" she shouted over the guitar strums of an 80s rock tune playing loudly. "I want to talk to you."

He rose from his stooped position, giving her that lopsided and yet coy smile that seemed to scream that he was ready to give as good as he got. "Ems, nice to see you. Is Henry with you?"

Her eyes narrowed over him, the pressed jacket and pants that while neat seemed too big for his frame. His stubble was more like a shadow on his jaw that an attempt at true facial hair. "No, he's not. I didn't want him to know about the conversation I had with Tamara today, Neal. I wanted to give you the opportunity to fix this situation."

Neal was not known for his reactions or emotions, preferring to remain stoic or as Ruby described him – disinterested to the point of nearly being catatonic. "She said something, right? About the wedding and Henry?"

"You're not even surprised," Emma said with a sad shake of her head. "I doubt she's self aware enough to come over here and tell you herself. I don't think she even realizes how vapid and cruel she sounds when she says that he won't look good with the other groomsmen for the pictures. Neal, I know we both agreed to move on from each other a long time ago. And I'm not trying to judge, but seriously? This is the woman you want to be Henry's stepmother. I'm surprised she even knows his name."

He exhaled loudly, his hands going up in front of him to ward off the tirade. "Whoa, Ems. Tamara is not like saint Killian, but she's not the devil either. She's just not the mothering type. Were you when you first had Henry? I get that. I accept that. Henry's got a mother – you. At least she respects you enough not to try to compete. It hurts to see me with her. I get that. But Ems, we're both trying to move on here. So she's not super-mom. Henry likes her better now. It's going to be fine."

She could not even look at him, focusing her green eyes on the old typewriter in the corner. It was missing a few keys, but one could picture great writers pounding out their souls and life's works onto it. There was something sad and yet proud about the machine that it seemed time had forgotten there on a shelf in the shop. "You know this isn't about my opinion on her. It's about her saying the wrong thing to my kid. It's about her destroying him with some comment about how his suit doesn't match the rest of you. It's about her making him feel unwelcome in what should be his second home." She rocked back, eyes narrow and daring him to challenge her. "He's a kid. Your son. And while he is loving and sweet now, he won't always forgive us, Neal. He's going to remember these days. And when he's in a relationship or having children of his own, he's going to remember how it felt to watch his parents navigate through being single parents and dating and now marriage. I don't' know about you, but I want my son to remember that I never for one second made him doubt that he comes first in my life. Can you say the same?"

"Ems…"

"God, I hate that name," she said, softening a bit as she saw his brown eyes squeeze shut in that way he had about him. For a moment she was 17 again and listening to him explain how they could have the world if she would only just trust him. With that memory came

"Emma," he enunciated carefully. "Emma, I love Henry. And I love…It's just hard, you know? Tamara and I both come from money. There's expectations with that. All this pressure. It's not easy to fit Henry into that. Her parents are not thrilled that I have a son. These are things you don't…"

"I don't understand, right? The little lost girl doesn't know what it's like to have family breathing down your neck. You know what, I don't want to hear how her family and your father are taking over your wedding plans. I don't care. What I do care about is how you're going to explain to your son that you chose a wedding over him. Not a wife but a wedding." She waited a beat for him to stop her, explain why she was wrong. "Fine. You have Henry for dinner on Wednesday. You can explain to him then why he's not welcome at your wedding. Make it a good excuse, Neal. He's growing up and can spot a lie just like I can these days."

***AAA***

With Henry tucked under a blanket on the couch and surrounded by three textbooks about American History, Killian gave a nod to his soon to be stepson and stepped out through the side door onto the deck where his brother was waiting. The two brothers had spent very little time together lately, as both busily planned tours, weddings, and weekend getaways between hurried texts and dropped phone calls.

"I've always admired the view here, brother," Liam said, leaning on his elbows over the railing toward the muted gray sky and water. "You did quite well for yourself to find this lovely house."

Killian took the spot beside him, staring toward the shore lights that blinked back at him. "You know, Emma has been talking of finishing that space above the garage. She was thinking a music space. However, we could convert it to a small flat for you should Elsa ever kick your arse out."

"I suppose if Elsa wasn't with me that's where you would have shoved me, right?" The older of the two accepted the extra bottle of beer from his brother and held it firmly without taking a single sip. "I don't mean that. You and Emma have been gracious. I knew that she is a lovely lass both inside and out, but you are a lucky bloke, brother. You have a nice little family here with her and with Henry. I hope you know that."

Lips still pressed together, Killian grinned out toward the lights. "That I do, but I wouldn't say you were down on your luck either. Elsa is brilliant and seems to adore you for whatever reason." His grin widened. "She is coming back tonight, right?"

Liam's laugh was tight as he finally turned up the bottle briefly. "Aye, she seemed so happy to see Anna that I suggested they spend some more time together while Kris is off working or some such. She promised to call so I can escort her back. I don't feel that comfortable with the idea of her out alone."

"Perhaps we should consider similar precautions for you?" Killian turned his back to the expansive view and settled onto the built-in bench with his head cocked to look directly at his brother's profile. "So tell me about this trip to the flower shop. Any clue as to who could be causing all this?"

"That Graham chap has theories, but no solid leads. I can't quit thinking about it. Why would someone do this? What would they have to gain by attempting to woo her and hurt me?"

"I'm afraid I don't have a good answer, mate. While I frequently imagined pummeling you as a child, I can't quite fathom that much hate in your regard now. Didn't Graham ask you to come up with some possible suspects of your own? Some people you may have pissed off over the years? Even some of those sailors who may have been passed up for promotion in turn for you? As much as I love you, I'm sure there are no shortage of possibilities." He noted the sour look on Liam's face with his own chuckle. "You know what I mean."

"I do," Liam said, softer than either expected. "Killian, I have been thinking and wondering. I don't want to bring this to the attention of our local sheriff, but…"

"Sounds as though you have a conspiracy theory."

"Of sorts. I was thinking about father."

Killian had been about to take a sip of his own beer when he sputtered at his brother's revelation. Still holding the bottle, he frowned. "What the bloody hell for? I assure you that he's not thinking of us."

"Perhaps not," Liam agreed, still staring into the distance and not at Killian. His sweater rode up a bit as he stooped more against the rails. "That son he has now. He's what 16? 17?"

"I think it's more like 19. He met that lass about 20 years ago and married her about 19. I think she was expecting at the time." Realization hit Killian boldly. "You don't think?"

"Aye, I was just considering the possibility. That flower bloke did say the man said his name was Liam and spoke with an accent. Mighty big coincidence, don't you think? Perhaps it wasn't one though."

"And what reason would this half-brother of ours have in causing you harm? We've never so much as laid eyes on the lad except in that bloody prep school graduation announcement that was sent to us. Looks more like his mum if I recall correctly. I'd be more likely to believe old Brennan himself was behind it before his son." It was somewhat of an understanding that both Liam and Killian avoided their younger brother's name, as it seemed too much like their father was replacing them. Killian had little doubt that had the new Mrs. Jones had another child his name would have been Killian.

"Father doesn't match the description of the flower store. But our younger brother just might."

"But what would be the reason? If any of us have an issue with the whole family it should be us. That man abandoned us when we were vulnerable. He married another woman and attempted to paint himself as a family man after that. His son is the golden child, gifted and probably spoiled."

Liam said nothing as he drank from the bottle again, turning his gaze back to the house and through the glass doors toward Henry. The 13-year-old was settled on the couch with one leg sticking out from the knitted throw. His sock covered foot was on the stack of bridal magazines that Mary Margaret had left and Emma had yet to read. "Did you know I heard from father about two years ago? I was still in the navy."

"Did you answer him?" Killian asked, sounding accusatory with his angry eyes narrowing at his brother. Liam had always been so against contact with their father, even after the man had made a half hearted attempt years before to reconcile. "Did you?"

"He was ill," Liam said vaguely, his pale blue eyes closing. "I think the booze and hard living finally was too much for the gaffer. Seems his liver was shot. Needed part of mine."

"And you…"

"I ignored the email. Who the bloody hell asks for such a thing over email? He barely even asked after me, never even mentioned you at all. Then he asks for a part of my body. I deleted it. I couldn't…I couldn't face it." Turning back toward Killian, his features were turned down in a sad state of confused agony. "He should have died, but I suppose they found the git a donor because he's still alive."

"And our brother…"

"Wasn't a match," Liam concluded, looking for all the world like the 15-year-old explaining life to his younger brother. "He wrote not long after, called me all sorts of names for not wanting to help. Said I was not his brother and never would be."

"And you never told me this before?"

Liam seemed to snort as he buried his chin against his own chest. "I don't know, Killian. I suppose I thought it best to ignore it. I didn't want to think about how we should have done more to save our brother from Brennan Jones. We ignored the warning signs and left the lad to be raised by a man who abandoned us. Or perhaps I was jealous. Wondered what it was that made the second Liam so special as to keep our father around. But we weren't. Were we honestly that flawed?"

***AAA***

When Emma was first promoted at work, friends had encouraged her to find a new car. Something more reliable, safer, fuel efficient, and more luxurious would be better suited for the single mother and music industry executive. However, she had resisted, citing her car's long history and her love of the little yellow compact that had seen her through every rough moment in her life. After an unfortunate stay in jail as a juvenile it was her sole possession, along with a newborn son and freshly printed GED. She didn't like to admit to having slept in the seats, eaten more meals than she could count, and even falling in love with Neal as they drove aimlessly and determinedly away from what both had deemed crappy childhoods.

It had driven her from a barely there existence back toward Neal and the promise that he could and would be a father for Henry. And just as she was doing now, she had sat in it and stared at the weather worn façade of Gold's shop and waited on divine intervention years before. Smoothing down an errant cowlick on her son's head, she had trooped him into the shop under the guise of building bridges toward family. The man had taken it as a sign of weakness, of her crawling back in search of money for her son. She had fought that assumption as best she could.

"Okay so this is creepy," Ruby said, sliding into the seat next to her. "Are you stalking Neal or are we just having a good pout?"

"Neither," Emma said, accepting the throw away cup of hot chocolate from her friend. "Just thinking."

"Do I want to know? I mean I am here for you and love you as a sister, Emma, but Neal is not my favorite person or topic of conversation. I have such respect for you, but seriously. That was an odd combination." Ruby flipped down the visor on the passenger side and ran her pinky around her lips to check her lipstick. "It was the sex, right? It had to be the sex because the guy's not exactly the most intellectual, a good conversationalist, and he was running away from his daddy's money at that point. So it was good sex. That's why you hooked up with him."

"I think 14 years is a bit too long ago to kiss and tell."

"Fine, so the guy's a dud. So why are you looking like this. You didn't kill him did you? I mean I would totally go help you hide the body, but I need details."

"He's still around, but I basically just told him that he sucks as a father," Emma said, her eyes falling to the steering wheel. "I mean who am I to do that?"

"You're Henry's mother, that's who," Ruby exclaimed boldly. "You have been with that boy since day one. And you have seen Henry with his so called father."

"I'm not perfect. I make mistakes too. I'm pretty much the model for absentee mothering lately with my fiancé helping to raise my child. That's not good parenting or even normal. My kid is in therapy fears and anxieties about me being around and what do I do? I go on weeks long road trips to book semi-talented musical groups. They should lock me up for that."

Ruby twisted in the cramped seat, facing her friend the best she could and crossing her bare arms over her tightly covered chest. "Is that what that jerk said to you? Emma, you are a single mother. You have a job that requires a lot, but you manage to do it and raise your son. Do you honestly think anyone could do better?" One hand flew out and hovered a few inches from Emma's parted lips to stop her. "Wait! Before you answer that, tell me something. Is Henry having nightmares about losing Neal? No, he's having them about you. Because you are his mother. You are his one true parent here in this situation. And who is the one dealing with those nightmares?"

Despite the close quarters Emma flopped back against the seat covering. "Me. And Killian's been pretty great about it too. Neal's not been bad exactly…"

"Just distracted, right? Isn't that the excuse you used for him before? He's distracted by his wedding. He's distracted by the pressure his father puts on him. He's distracted by running a shop that barely has enough business to stay open in a normal town. When is he going to be distracted by being a father?"

"Fair questions," Emma admitted. "I guess I don't have the answers."

Ruby nodded, shifting her gaze out the windshield at the darkened shop. "So we're watching what exactly? Is he in there?"

"Yeah, I guess I was trying to make myself feel better that I confronted him tonight. Maybe if I saw him upset or looking at a picture of Henry or something. But that's what you see in the movies, not in real life."

"I agree that's a tall order, but Emma, you can't put that on yourself. Henry's fine. He's a good kid with a mother who loves him and would fight dragons to protect him. And if I have any of my grandmother's sense people then I will say that he's got a future stepfather who is almost equally as devoted to your son. Maybe your confrontation will kick some sense into Neal or maybe it won't. But what matters is that you are trying to make things better for that kid. You and I both know what it's like to grow up without parents. Henry's got so many of us pulling for him that he's never going to want for love."

Leaves scattered on the pavement, a sign that fall was in full swing with the brisk air blustering in from the west. Emma and Ruby both watched silently for a moment. "You're a good friend, Ruby. Especially for bringing me hot chocolate."

Rolling her eyes upward and flipping her thick dark hair over her shoulder, Ruby sighed. "I know. I know. I'm a freaking saint. So let me offer one more piece of advice. Go home. Get in bed with that fiancé of yours after hugging your son goodnight. Forget about Neal. He'll be a good father or he won't. You can't force people to do the right thing."

Emma handed her friend back the empty cup with a wry smile and a mocking salute. "Got it, boss," she said. "You really do sound like your grandmother sometimes."

***AAA***

Henry skimmed the paragraph again, hoping the words would find their way into his brain with minimal effort. While he loved most all his classes, he was not in the mood to read about the advancing British army during the Revolutionary War. Killian often called him perceptive, noting that he picked up on things around him way too easily and tended to internalize them. The drive home was a prime example, his mother's tense and yet concerned tone giving credence to his worries. And now Killian and Liam whispering on the deck seemed to indicate more secrets in the household.

"Anything the matter?" Liam asked, the first to enter back into the expansive living space. He rubbed his hands together swiftly after dropping the empty beer bottle into the recycling. "You look as though you ate something that disagreed with you, mate."

"I'm fine," he lied, ignoring the vibration of his phone on the table. Violet had a tendency to text when she was done with her homework. And while it shouldn't, the notice that she was done ahead of him seemed to bring out a competitive nature. "Just doing homework. Where's Killian?"

There was a flash of something in the older brother's eyes, guilt maybe. "He's finishing his beer out there. Should be in soon. He tells me that you went horseback riding today with that young lass. The one with the flower name. Must have been a fun time. I took a lass I was courting out for a ride once. She was quite impressed with my skills."

Henry's face flushed. "She's better at riding than I am. It was kind of scary to be honest. They are pretty tall animals. And they go really fast."

"Aye, but you need to appreciate the freedom of them. And I'm sure she appreciated the gesture nonetheless." Liam dropped into the chair next to the sofa, his long limbs sinking into the stuffed cushions. "So if it is not woman trouble that has you so anxious, what is it? Your mum's back in town. I haven't heard a word about any academic difficulties."

"It's nothing," Henry insisted, readjusting the book on his bent leg. "Is Elsa coming back tonight?"

"Aye, she's having a bit of sisterly bonding right now. She's planning to come back with that new bodyguard of hers in tow. Is that the problem, mate? Are you feeling a bit crowded here?"

"No, that's not it. I guess I'm just in a mood."

"Ahhhh," Liam said, sneaking a peek out the door where his brother was clearly brooding over news of their father and younger sibling. "That does happen from time to time. If you care to wag your chin at it, I'm all ears." He crossed his right leg over his left, ankle resting on the opposite knee.

"Wag my chin?"

Liam chuckled and mumbled something about language barriers with Americans. "I think you probably refer to it as chatting. Or something of that sort. Fine, I'll clarify. If you wish to talk about it, I'm willing to listen."

"Just never heard that expression before," Henry said, trying it out for himself. "I like it." He gave a sort of half smile. "What else have you got?"

It might not have been the conversation Liam anticipated, but he enjoyed himself as they both threw out colloquialisms and slang the other was completely unfamiliar with. When Killian joined them a few minutes later, they were both laughing hysterically and trying to string as many together as possible. Even Emma joined in on the fun when she came inside, her eyes still puffy from the tears she had shed but laughing as she sat between her son and future husband on the couch.

"I don't think it sounds the same with our American accents," she said after Henry tried to say something about dinner options. He could barely get through the phrase without laughing so hard that his breath came in short spurts and he was reflexively hitting the arm of the sofa.

"It does sound rather flat, but lovely nonetheless." Killian bopped her nose playfully, which combined groans, guffaws, and giggles in the group.

Eventually Emma called a halt to the shenanigans, sending Henry to ready himself for bed and eyeing Liam's ability to drive himself to the Rabbit Hole. Deeming him safe, she sent him off on his way too, rolling her eyes when he kissed her cheek and called her mom.

"Call us when you get there, mate," Killian called out, winking back at the man's scowl. "Have fun and be careful."

Emma placed her hand on Killian's bicep, her face a bit more gentle and understanding. "The label arranged for someone to monitor the parking lot at the Rabbit Hole. Similar to the guy watching out for Elsa. I can arrange for him to…"

"No," Liam said firmly, offering no more argument before disappearing into the night. Killian looked both mildly amused and a bit annoyed by his brother's lack of concern on his own safety. It was not unexpected at all, but still stung a bit in the faces of those who cared about him.

"You didn't really think he was going to take me up on that, right?" Emma asked, dropped her head to Killian's shoulder as they both stared at the closed door. "You're the one who often refers to him as a stubborn arse."

"Such an American accent, love," he chuckled. "No, I expected his reaction. I hoped for better, but often expect obstinacy in my brother's foul-mouthed wake." He drew in a breath. "You are quite like him in that way. Both hard headed and stubborn."

Turning in his loose embrace, she craned her neck back as if inspecting him for signs of regret in his statement. Finding none, she pursed her lips into a frown. "I'm not sure I enjoy being compared to your brother. Don't want you confusing us or picturing him when we…"

He crushed his mouth against hers quickly to silence her, harsh and bruising against him. When he did pull away, he smoothed down a bit of her hair that had escaped from behind her ear. "I assure you that I've never confused the two of you."