The moon reflected off the ocean, waves only breaking occasionally to shatter the ethereal path along the surface. Killian pulled his jeep in behind his brother's, knowing that he would be the first to leave in the morning with Henry in tow for another day at school. Cutting the engine, he rolled his head back on the seat and sighed. "Home sweet home."

"You're not going to try anything else to convince me?" Liam asked, planting his booted feet firmly on the car mats. "You don't usually give up so easily, little brother."

"Younger and I don't think there is much point," he argued, reaching his right hand around to turn off the lights. "You have made up your mind. It's not my business if you are content to live this oddly situated relationship with our younger brother."

"That's the Killian I know." Liam wagged his finger at his brother. "You're using that teacher psychology on me, reversing the situation."

"I just don't wish to argue with you when you are so adamant that you want nothing to do with our father or the younger Liam. It's that simple. I'm not interested in arguing with your pompous arse about this. One of us will have to go see our father. That someone is obviously going to be me." Killian turned the key and the engine's rumble died into silence. "Now let's go inside and try to act like we haven't been sitting around discussing nothing for the past two or three hours while Robin did all the work here."

Both men lumbered out of the jeep, Liam offering a curt wave to the guard in the unmarked car in the empty lot across the street. He had argued earlier that the guard was too obvious sitting there, but Emma and Elsa had said that was the point. "Emma was a bit put off by my behavior?"

"She has a 13 year old son. You think she hasn't seen a temper tantrum before?" His hand full with the keys and a bag from Granny's, Killian nudged his brother with his elbow. "Believe me, Henry can out pout you any day of the week."

"Yes, he truly can," Emma agreed, stepping out onto the stoop and squinting into the low light. She was still wearing a skirt and sweater from her work day, but a thick blanket was over her shoulders and her boots were replaced by a pair of socks that Killian was not sure weren't his. "Robin got the security system installed and working. But he is going to have to come back about some outdoor lighting." She readjusted the throw blanket over her shoulders. "I love how secluded we are out here, but he's right that we need to light it up a little more."

Killian passed his brother and brought his left arm around Emma, holding her to him and kissing her with a resounding smack. "Apologies, love. I didn't greet you properly before. I brought your favorites from Granny's to make up for my errors. Forgive me?"

Emma raised a curious eyebrow, peeling open the folded bag and peeking inside. "Grilled cheese, good. And fries?"

"Onion rings," he corrected. "Have I passed your test?"

"For now, Mr. Jones," she laughed, giving him a peck to his cheek. She then turned her eyes to Liam, noticing the similarly shaped bag in his hand. "Elsa's upstairs supposed to be sleeping but probably fiddling with her guitar. I sent her upstairs about an hour ago when Anna and Kris left. Hopefully whatever that is will heat up nicely for tomorrow."

The older brother scuffed his boots in the rocky path, looking down at the bag as if it had just appeared. "Actually, lass, it's not for her. I thought…well…"

"Seems my brother is set to make amends with the guard. Something about calling him a few names earlier when he became a belligerent git over being told it was not safe for him to leave alone."

Liam's cheeks pinked even in the low light as he turned to the darkened car where the man sat. "It's a nice gesture, brother. Nothing more."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Emma teased, tugging Killian's arm from around her waist and leading him into the house. "My waist and thighs are going to hate you, but my appetite is very happy with you right now, babe." She had a hold of his left elbow and she pulled him through the door into the house before he could properly tease his brother himself.

She rooted around the refrigerator for a bottle of water, claiming that it would offset some of the sinfulness of the buttery sandwich and greasy fried onions. Once she found one, she squeezed in next to him in the oversized chair, sinking into his embrace. "It's been a long day," she muttered against his shoulder. "Do I want to know if you have had any luck with Liam?"

"He's stubborn," Killian admitted, knowing that was a bit like admitting the sky was blue. "I'm not sure I made any headway at all. He seems quite determined not to seek out our father. And since our brother is not making his presence known except through these notes and such, I am sure we are now at an impasse." Her stomach rumbled, vibrating against his folded arm. "Let's get you fed, love. You probably fed everyone else and haven't eaten a bit yourself."

"I was playing hostess," she reminded him, letting him then guide her over to the chair where he sat and then pulled her into his lap. Thankfully she remembered to bring the bag from Granny's and her drink from earlier was still on the coffee table only slightly warm. "So do we have a plan?"

"How would you feel about a trip to London?" he asked, biting off a bit of the proffered onion ring she held out to him. "If my brother doesn't wish to see our father, perhaps I should go in his stead. I haven't formulated an actual plan, but…"

"But you're considering it?" she asked, ignoring for a moment that he asked her to join him. "Do you think that's safe?"

His head lolled back on the leather, blue eyes staring up at the ceiling. "Our father is not a danger," he said slowly, measuring his words. "And if we wish this to end in some sort of peaceful resolution…"

"Then you and Liam need to talk to him?" She bit down on the sandwich, chewing as she considered what he was saying. Swallowing, she pursed her lips together. "And you want me to go with you?"

"I suppose I was thinking I might share a bit of my own beginnings with you. If you're up for it? It is a silly idea. Henry's schooling will certainly not allow such a trip. And we shouldn't leave him alone for that long." Killian frowned. "Perhaps a phone call would be best. I can…"

"Let's go," she said, staring at her sandwich as if it had given her the answer.

"What?"

"I said, let's go. You and Henry both have next week off for Thanksgiving. It won't be a long trip, but we can do it – together. Henry gets back from this camping thing on Sunday. We can fly out then. You make the travel plans and I'll pack. I'd say it would be fun, but…"

"I don't think that fun is the term most appropriate for confronting your father who abandoned you." His smile was restrained, arm tightening around her waist. "But I would be a proud man to show you and Henry about."

"I can't wait to see it," she said, offering him another of the fried onion rings.

"You've been to London before I would assume, what with your job and Regina's tour schedules for her acts. Henry said you and he spent a whole summer in Europe while you worked."

"This is different," she assured him. "I am going to get to see London through your eyes. I want to see your home."

His smile grew as she chewed down more of her meal. "My former home," he corrected. "You and Henry are my home now."

"You know," she said, her finger making nonsensical patterns on his chest through the thick shirt he wore. "The feeling is pretty mutual. You're my home too."

***AAA***

He expected to find her slumbering in the bed, her white gold hair cascading around her and the gentle rise and fall of her chest indicative of her state. However, there she sat, her legs folded under her and a spiral notebook in front of her. Her fingers were strumming the old acoustic guitar, lips moving silently. Occasionally she would pull a pencil out from behind her ear and scribble something down.

"I know that look," he said, collapsing on the foot of the bed and folding his hands over his forehead. "The 'there's a song in me that I have to write now' look. Going to be a long night, darling?"

Her thin fingers gingerly strummed the acoustic guitar, lips moving silently with the words she had scribbled on the page. The light was dim in the guest bedroom, but Elsa's eyes could still make out the blue pen marks of lyrics that were still troubling her as she let them cascade into what could become a new song. Pausing briefly, she removed the ink pen from behind her ear and crossed out one of the stanzas that seemed the most problematic, humming to herself as she tried to replace it.

"Sounds lovely," Liam said, his large frame filling the doorway where he was leaning. "Though I might be a bit biased."

Her indifferent lips turned up into a smile as she saw him standing there watching her. "I don't have it right yet."

"And yet you've already mesmerized me, lass. I rather think you're a natural." Arms folded loosely, he dipped his head in gesture for her to continue. "May I hear more?"

Her normally porcelain cheeks pinked under his gaze. "I was just fooling around with it. It's nothing, really."

Striding toward her, he leaned to kiss her cheek before sitting behind her, forming his body to hers so that she was against his chest. "Perhaps a collaborator?"

She let her head fall back against him as his hands came around to cradle hers over the guitar. Eyes closed, she listened to him mimic the soft sounds she had been making earlier with the instrument. The very fact that he was able to make himself seem unobtrusive when his usual musical style was much more bold and ostentatious only spoke to his versatility. "It sounds better when you play it," she said turning her head toward him.

"I would thank you for the compliment, but you're the one playing darling. I'm simply enjoying the closeness." His mouth dropped to where the collar of her blue flannel shirt met her long neck, kissing the skin softly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, her lower lip trembling. "Your father?" His body tensed against hers but relaxed slightly when she said they didn't have to have that conversation.

"I'd much rather make music with you, darling, but I suppose the conversation is due." Instead of letting her go, he held a little tighter. "Could we maybe…"

"I could use some help with the second verse." Her forehead leaned into his cheek. "It's about feeling like you're on solid ground after a long time of feeling unstable. I had a few lines about feeling safe, but that doesn't seem right. Safe seems arbitrary and as if there is a war going on outside. I don't feel that way. I just feel like the world makes more sense and is a kinder place with you."

Licking his lips, he nodded slightly, humming the tune she had already created. "Perhaps that is the key, darling? Stability? Not physically mind you. But perhaps when you're in my arms I don't feel like the world will slip out from under me."

Her hum joined his as she played with the words a little. As the words started to flow, his grip on her hands decreased. "You like?"

"I love," she clarified. "I think that's enough for tonight though. Unless you have some real energy going on there, buddy."

"Killian wants to see him…our father. He is making plans to do so. I assume he's taking Emma with him." His face his still buried in the soft flannel of her pajama top, the occasional scratching sounding out from his stubble against the fabric.

"You don't want to go?" she asked, trying to understand. Her situation was different than Liam and Killian, even Emma's. She had lost her parents. They were gone and the possibility of reuniting was not ever going to happen. Her gut instinct was to say that he was throwing away the relationship with his father over an old hurt. Yet she knew that his father was far from innocent in all this. "Maybe he could offer…"

He swayed backwards and then steadied himself. "Darling, I must seem so weak to you. He abandoned me years and years ago. And yet I'm still feeling the effects of that rejection."

"I don't think you are weak at all, Liam. In fact, I think you are the strongest man I know. You want to know how I know that? Your youngest brother is attempting to terrorize you. You haven't once threatened to do anything violent or immoral. You want to fix this without hurting him or letting him hurt us. That's a real man, Liam. That's the man I love." Her hand lifted from the neck of the guitar to cradle in cheek. "And I do, Liam. I love you so very much. If you want to see your father, I'll be there for you. If you don't, that's okay too. He's the one who has lost out. He doesn't know the amazing man you've become."

"You're quite brilliant yourself, Elsa," he said with a sad chuckle. "It's not every day a man is rejected by everyone in life only to find a woman who accepts him – flaws and all."

She shifted around to face him as he placed the guitar against the edge of the bed, rising up on her knees in front of him. "I'm pretty fond of a lot of those flaws you have."

"Are you now?"

"Yes," she teased. "I mean your nose is a little large and your hair's kind of curly. And there is that annoying way you breathe through your mouth when you're sleeping. Plus you talk in your sleep. It's like you're really trying to have a conversation but oblivious to everyone else in the world. It's all kinds of adorable and creepy at the same time." She looped her arms over his shoulders. "So it's pretty easy to love you."

"Loving you is the easiest thing I have ever done." He gave her a rakish gaze, holding her just a few inches from himself and drinking in the comfort of her nearness. Reclaiming her lips, he crushed her to him.

***AAA***

It wasn't their first argument, but it had weighed on her most of the day. With more people in the house Emma had taken to making a full pot of coffee each morning rather than the single serve pods that were more convenient when it was just her and him. She'd stumbled into the kitchen before her shower to start the water, something she was used to doing and could have done blindfolded. The scent of the freshly brewed pot assailed her from the moment she rinsed the shampoo from her hair. Images of the dark brew along with bacon and eggs seemed to be flashing in her head after she heard Killian stirring about.

So when she entered the kitchen to find the crumbs and rinds of what had been the breakfast she had imagined she was upset. The fact that there were only three drops of coffee in the pot and no more coffee in the canister had made her furious. It was probably Liam's fault or even Elsa's, though as guests she couldn't really fault them too much. Maybe that was why she snapped at Killian and told him that it was his fault she was going to be late. He had not saved her any food, despite her efforts to make it fresh. He'd stared at her like a wounded animal as she huffed about to gather her coat and hurry Henry on his way. She felt bad about the time that she backed the little yellow car out of the driveway, Henry's voice ringing out over the radio asking why she had not wanted to wait on Killian.

"Hey," she said when she called during his planning period. "I wasn't sure you'd pick up."

"I'd be remiss if I didn't offer myself up for rebuke," he said a bit gruffly, his voice quiet probably since the door to his office and classroom were open. "You were rather angry with me this morning. I suppose I want to know if there is anything I can do."

"It wasn't your fault," she said quickly, trying not to imagine him as he had looked that morning. "I just…I guess I got frustrated and took it out on you. That's not fair. I'm sorry."

"I should have paid more attention, love, for which I am sorry too. You deserve a lovely breakfast. It's the least I can offer after all you have been doing for my brother and his love. You even made the coffee this morning and we drank it all."

"I picked up some at Granny's. It wasn't that much of an inconvenience. She makes it better than I do anyway." The now empty travel cup from the diner was atop her trash bin, glaring at her.

"Still, I behaved horribly. I promised you when I proposed that I would always be your advocate and always in your corner. And here I let you fend for yourself."

"I'm used to fending for myself." Slipping out of the painfully tight shoes, she padded through her office to the door and closed it. The administrative staff didn't need to hear her private business. "But I do like your attempts to take care of me sometimes. Even if I don't deserve it."

"Oi, just sometimes? I will have you know that I make an effort to spoil you, Swan. Should I double my efforts? Should I take to carrying you around so that your lovely toes never have to touch the cold floor in the mornings? Or perhaps I should make you breakfast in bed? My love, you are worthy of every bit of my spoiling and coddling."

"There you go again," she sighed, falling into her executive chair with a grunt.

"Have I done something to offend?"

"Not exactly. You're just being perfect again. I hate that. You can get mad at me, you know. You don't always have to be perfect. But I love you so I forgive you. Forgive me?"

"Always, love, always."

Emma found it easier to work after that, making headway on choosing the songs for one artist's album and managing to select from a few tracks to send to Regina for final approval. Elsa came in for a meeting with Regina and she was able to convince her boss that cancellation was the best solution. She even scheduled three phone interviews for Elsa and lined up a few selections for video directors. Without a tour to promote the new album they would need other means to get the music out there. Interviews and media were great, but a real grass roots effort was needed too, including social media and viral videos.

She was in the midst listening to a mixed version of Elsa's solo efforts and mentally packing items for the pending trip to London when a text from Mary Margaret came in to request a parent teacher conference after classes dismissed for the day.

Emma's shoes slid on the freshly waxed floors of Storybrooke Academy, practically sending her flying in the process. Hand still clutching her keys, she rounded the corner to the hallway where most of the middle grades classrooms sat between the high school and lower school. She still had a hard time picturing her son with so many teens and tweens. His escalating height aside, she still pictured the gap toothed kid smiling up at her whenever his name arrived in conversation.

Mary Margaret's classroom was the second from the end, a colorful exhibition of student work and motivational quotes lining the walls. Usually she stopped to see which of Henry's assignments were on display, but time would not allow it that day. Pushing into the classroom, she exclaimed her apologies for her tardiness – feeling at the moment like a student rather than a parent.

"Emma, I told you it wasn't an emergency," the teacher said with a soft smile as she came around her desk to hug her breathless friend. In the weeks since the wedding, the teacher's abdomen hand rounded out, as had her cheeks. She looked to be happier than Emma had ever seen her. "I just said I wanted to show you something."

"You gave me exactly zero details," Emma said, draping her jacket over the student desk next to her. "Forgive me, but that totally sucks for a mother. You wouldn't believe what I've imagined on the drive here. Is he planning a terrorist attack? Did he make honor roll? Is his essay so good it's making you cry? The possibilities are endless."

Tilting her head, Mary Margaret reached behind her to grab a file folder. "Emma, I can see where Henry gets his imagination. I didn't mean to scare you." She motioned for the table where she usually did small group assignments and conferences. "Let's have a seat?"

Mutely, Emma nodded. She stared at the pencil drawing that the teacher slid out from the file. Lines and squiggles marked the page.

"I caught Henry drawing this during our science lesson today," she said, pushing it across the table with two fingers. "He said it was a plan to keep your house safe."

Now closer to her, she could make out the outline of the house's floor plan. He'd even placed the furniture in familiar spots and labeled the rooms accordingly. It was a relatively accurate layout of the rooms and space with one exception. The walk in closet that she and Killian shared was shaded darker than the rest and bore labels of weapons. "Safe?"

"I take it that you and Killian had a new security system installed? I don't mean to pry, Emma, but I think Henry's concerned. Have you talked to him about what's going on? I'm guessing it is the whole Elsa and the stalker thing. Right? With the nightmares and all…maybe you should…"

Holding the page at the corners with her fingers, Emma groaned. "Yeah, it's kind of complicated. We aren't meaning to keep you out of the loop."

"I tried to question him on it, ask him about the whole thing. He just said he thinks that you guys need to prepare." Mary Margaret held her hands out, palms facing the ceiling. "He's a sensitive kid, Emma. I think that whatever is going on has him worried. He told me that he just wants to make sure you're safe. He said that maybe you need a guard."

Emma dropped the page and grasped her head with her hands, palms at her temples. "It never occurred to me. We've been so careful about only discussing the details when he's gone or in bed. I haven't even really told Neal that…well, it seems…" She filled in the teacher on the basics, pausing to answer questions that her friend obviously had. To her credit, the brunette only asked for clarification on a few points.

"But so far it's just been against Liam and Elsa, right?" she asked, folding her hands in front of her. "This other Liam hasn't done anything to threaten you, Killian, or Henry?"

"No, I don't even know…I suppose it is possible if…"

"I'm not accusing, Emma. I think it's great that you and Killian are opening your home up to Elsa and Liam. I would just suggest opening up to Henry about it. He's obviously worried."

"Of course," Emma said gratefully. "I'm going to go track him down now. Any clue…"

"Killian's classroom. Emma, don't worry. Things are going to be fine."

That's what Emma told herself as she crossed through the halls that were usually full of students. Everything was going to be fine. She and Killian would confront the brothers' father. Things would go back to normal. Though she wasn't sure where normal fit on the spectrum at this point. When she got to the music room she pulled the door open a few inches and peered inside. Watching from doorway as her son ran through his scales at lightning fast speed, Killian laughing loudly at the antics, she felt a warmness at the scene. They were quite a pair as her fiancé liked to say, both playing off each other in goofy and yet loving ways. Folding the drawing that Mary Margaret had given her and placing it in her pocket, she stepped into the room and caught Killian's eye.

"This is a grand surprise, love," he said motioning for her to come over through the mismatch of chairs and music stands. "You rarely visit these days."

She gave into the quick peck, keeping her eyes locked on his before turning to Henry. "I actually came to see this guy here. We haven't had a mother son dinner in a while. What do you say we get some pizza and check out the action over in the park? I'll even let you eat in the car." It was a long standing rule that food items were limited to tables not moving vehicles.

"Am I in trouble?" Henry's shoulders dropped as he sank back in the chair. His limbs appeared overly long as he lethargically waited for the answer. "Or sick? Is someone dying?"

"Nope, I'm just hungry and miss my kid. Come on. Get your coat." She placed her hand on Killian's chest, giving him a hopeful stare for understanding. "See you at home?"

"Of course. I'll even pack up the lad's trumpet. Be off with you both before the lines are too unbearable." He did not even look disappointed as she hurried the teenager out of the room, already discussing the possible toppings for their pizza.

Clearing away some of the debris from the teaching day, he felt his phone vibrate with a message from Emma.

Emma: Just in case I forgot to tell you. I love you.

***AAA***

Liam rested the box on his elevated thigh, bracing it between him and the wall as he tried to open the door with just one hand. He was too impatient to actually set the crate aside to do the task. Nearly dropping it, he cursed under his breath at the thought of explaining to Zelena how he had managed to lose a box of top shelf liquor.

"You are multi-talented," the auburn haired beauty said from her perch at the bar. He wasn't sure exactly what she did all day other than sip Pellegrino (or something stronger) and shop for new shoes on her phone. It wasn't that she didn't play a good game. He'd had enough phone calls and meetings with her to know that she could bluster like most business women. However, he seriously doubted her acumen was more than a few learned phrases and haughty looks. "Juggling, managing, and bartending. Not to mention your musical talents."

"Just a bit too lazy to put the box down and pick it up again," he explained, shifting past her toward the storage room.

"Come back after you're done. I want to have a little chat." Her smile was fake, but he pretended not to notice as he carried the box into the cave like room that could have doubled as a bomb shelter. Emma had expressed some happiness that Zelena seemed more interested in the bar than in the music business lately. It made things quieter in the office to have the two sisters separated. He understood that.

Unsealing the box, the lifted the bottles from the excelsior and placed them in the line for rotation onto the shelves. There were three more that he still needed to fetch when she called him back, her voice that sickening sweet tone. He swallowed back his flippant reply on the tip of his tongue and obeyed.

"I've been looking at the sales," she said as he wiped the dust from his hands onto the bar rag that was looped over his belt. "Food numbers are good and liquor is quite substantial as well. However, we're not doing so well with our booking fees and cover charges. I realize that we are in Storybrooke and not New York or Boston, but people here are searching for entertainment too."

"Aye, that they are," he said, waiting on her inevitable idea that would make him question his decision to work there. "Some of the larger and more well-known acts aren't easily booked here."

"I was curious, Liam, if you were using the right technique. See, I know you and your own band have limited exposure right now, but you'll learn that most acts are more than willing with the right incentive. Perhaps we should look into that. I'd like to see this place flourish, darling. I'd like to see you flourish." She leaned forward not by utility but clearly to showcase the deep v of her blouse and the oversized emerald pendant that hung between her breasts. He did not let his eyes venture there, disappointing her with her lack of reaction. She sat back up and adjusted the top to more modestly cover her.

"I can certainly try to get some more notable artists." It wasn't what he wanted to say. He wanted to question her sanity and grip on reality at thinking some a-list groups were going to perform in a sleepy little town that boasted an outdated bed and breakfast over some of the higher priced luxury hotels in bigger cities. He didn't imagine Bon Jovi or Sting would be enticed by the idea of lumpy beds and Granny's frozen lasagna. "Is there a possibility that we could use some of your sister's connections?"

He regretted asking as soon as Zelena's face curled into a penetrating scowl. "My sister is not a part of this enterprise, Liam. And I'm not done with this conversation. I was noticing that we seem to be improving on food sales. So perhaps we should consider some celebrity chefs."

"And you have some ideas there? I don't think Bobby Flay is going to do a pop up here at the bar, Zelena." He wiped at an invisible spot on the bar. "Perhaps though we could look at some ways to step things up. Some drink pairings with the food rather than just the typical happy hour fare?"

She smiled, her teeth dazzling as she flipped her long hair over her shoulder. "Brilliant idea!"

***AAA***

Emma cupped her hand under the triangle of pizza, hoping to catch the toppings that threatened to fall into her lap and the crevices of the car. She'd only recently stopped finding Cheerios and other cereal snacks from her son's car seat days. She wasn't thrilled at the idea of dried remnants of peppers, sausage, and salami taking up residence there.

"If I apologize will you let it drop?" Henry asked, taking a swig from the bottled soda. His brown eyes were scanning the park that was empty in the cold and dimming light. Though she had assured him several times already, he still believed himself to be in trouble.

"You're not in trouble. I just thought we should talk. You know we haven't had much time lately. And now with Liam and Elsa staying with us temporarily, it's been crazier than normal." She chewed her way through the thick crust. "And I haven't probably let you in on some things like this whole alarm system thing."

Henry whipped his head so fast that his hair took a moment to catch up. "Are we in danger? Is that guy that sent Elsa the flowers going to come to the house?"

Emma knew that her son had been in the room when Elsa and Liam's situation was first discussed. Like any child, he had selective hearing that always seemed to pick and choose only the worst things to hear. "We're making sure that he can't hurt us," she explained, not wanting to lie to him. She couldn't guarantee that the younger Liam wouldn't appear at their doorstep. However, she also didn't want to own that fear and pass it on to her son. "That's why we're being careful, adding the security system, and Elsa has someone watching her and the house all the time. I'm sorry, Henry. I should have talked with you about this earlier. I guess I just thought that you didn't need to worry."

"If we're in danger, I should worry." His brow furrowed as he shoved more of the pizza into his mouth. "If this guy could hurt us, why are Elsa and Liam staying with us? Shouldn't they go someplace else?"

"Henry, you need to realize that Killian and I would do anything to protect you. If we thought that there was a real danger because of their presence, we would have found other arrangements. But it's not like that." She reached out and smoothed over his hair. "You believe me, right? Kid, you are the most important person to me. I wouldn't risk your safety."

"Is the alarm a good one? I mean will it keep him out?" He popped the last bit of pizza in his mouth and did not reach for the box that now rested precariously on the dash over the radio.

"Robin says it is the best," she said, her hand still on the top of his head, thumb smoothing in circles. "And we can do other stuff to feel safer if you want. We can add more lights outside. We can make sure Elsa's guard is more visible. Remember when you were little and thought there was a monster under your bed? I used to do monster checks every night."

"You don't have to do that," he said, cracking a smile. "But maybe…"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe we could get a dog? Do you think Killian would be okay with that? Not like a mean dog or even that big of one, but a dog could be nice. And when you were gone for work the dog could stay in my room with me so I don't get lonely." He shifted his eyes to look at her hopefully, balling his now empty fists in anticipation.

She didn't take the bait. "Do you get lonely when I'm at work?"

"Sometimes. I mean it's nice to see Dad and it's been fun with Killian. I just miss having you around. And when you get home you're usually tired and too busy to do anything fun for a while. So…"

"I don't like going on those trips either, you know?" She dropped her hand to his shoulder, feeling the not so soft fabric of his school blazer. "So a dog?"

"We couldn't have one at the apartment, but now…"

"We'll have to check with Killian," she said, not committing with her answer. "And it'll have to wait until after Thanksgiving. We're going to London. I can't see us getting a dog and then abandoning it at a kennel for a week. You'll have to take some responsibility on this. If you want a dog to share your room, you have to make sure that dog knows you are going to take care of him or her."

"Sooooo…you're cool with a dog?"

"You're good at this, you know." She fell back against her seat, smirking out the window as she thought out she had been played. "I feel like a bad mom for not making you feel safe and you ask me for something I've said no to in the past."

"You're not a bad mom."

"Nice save, kid. Look, dog or not, we have to know we can talk to each other. If you're feeling abandoned, scared, alone, or whatever, I want you to tell me. My most important job is to take care of you. If I miss something, you've got to tell me. Remember we're a team."

***AAA***

With Liam working and Anna trying out some sort of prenatal yoga class, Elsa threw her purse in the passenger seat of Liam's sedan and sighed into the silence. She'd pushed back against his agitation of her picking up his car after getting new tires and a few other maintenance type things done to it. His odd hours meant less time for such tasks, but she didn't mind at all.

Another week and a half and they could talk to the condo board about some of the renovations they needed to have done to their home. It was annoying to think they couldn't make these necessary changes without permission, but such was life in a home owners association. Staying with Emma, Killian, and Henry wasn't bad at all, but she knew that Liam would get stir crazy soon enough. And with the trio headed to England next week, Elsa worried that he might struggle even more.

She was very much used to getting her own way. Maybe it was a byproduct of being the oldest or just her determined grit. So the fact that Liam was stubbornly refusing to go to his father was something that was gnawing at her. She loved Liam, cared for him beyond anything she had ever known outside of Anna. Not being able to fix this for him hurt.

Turning the car along the curving road she hit the gas a little too heavily. She quickly corrected, sending the shoulder bag sliding off the seat into the floorboard. She cringed both at the squeal of the tires and the clatter of her belongings falling out on the floor mats and under the seat.

"Dumb," she said, realizing she had not bothered to zip her bag after Michael had given her the final receipt. She had blindly shoved it in among the wallet, her phone, cosmetics, and other essentials, never considering the mess she could make. It was too late to correct it now, she thought with the fleeting hope that nothing was damaged or lost for good. She pressed her hand to the stereo's on button, letting the car fill with the familiar sounds of the local pop station. While she wasn't exactly a fan of today's auto-tuned charade of talent, she had to admit it was fun to have in the background as she drove.

She belted out the catchy dance tune about finding love in unexpected places as she glanced in her rearview mirror. The guard, who today she thought was named Elliot or Eli, was to follow her home. So what if she was taking the long way to clear her head a little in the wake of another difficult day. She had signed off on cancelling her tour dates earlier, something she was already dreading telling anyone. Yes, it would be easier to not be on the road and forced to perform every night, but she was not sure she wanted to give in that easily. Regina had been negative on the whole decision, but Emma had smiled reassuringly and already started talking of other promotional plans. Despite the loss of tour revenue, Regina had joined in the discussion over lunch and even promised to have Elsa and Anna's website redesigned and social media upcharged.

The lights in her rearview mirror blinked twice, odd since she wasn't sure what it meant. She let her foot off the gas and eased down the speed of the sedan. The car behind her didn't though, its lights so close now that she could not even make out the make, model or color of it in her mirrors. She was practically blinded by light as it closed in, filling the side and rearview mirrors with insufferable brightness. She squinted, trying to make out the fatherly man who she had entrusted to carry her to the mechanics. She couldn't see him.

With her phone out of reach and her flailing attempts to reach it fruitless, she pressed her foot harder on the gas and created more distance between her and the car behind her. It kept pace, but she was able to view on one of the curves that it was not the four door green car that she remembered from earlier. It was a compact burgundy car that looked to have a young man behind the wheel rather than the fatherly figure of her guard.

"Damn it," she said, gripping the steering wheel as she skidded through another curve. She was just three miles from the street that would take her back toward town and to the sheriff's station. If she had been in her own car then her bluetooth would work to contact someone, but Liam's was a stripped down model.

The car behind her swerved into the next lane as if wanting to come along side her. She pressed harder on the gas and urged the sedan to perform. Her efforts were thwarted as she felt the thud of his car hitting hers, sending her off the road in a cloud of dust and debris from the shoulder. When her eyes opened and her breathing became less erratic, she saw no second car.