Killian couldn't remember a time when he'd seen his mother sipping on tea or coffee, lazily perusing through the newspaper or quietly contemplating the rest of the day. She was always so busy, rushing from one job to the next to support her sons and their life in the crowded flat they shared in London. It was not that he felt neglected when he was under her care, as she always managed to show up to school functions and often read him to sleep before a few more hours of work at a second or third job. Perhaps that was something he admired about Emma was her own fierce determination to make Henry's life the best it could be, always making time for him and putting him first.

And yet he never felt that Emma was just fitting anyone in her life. One of his favorite images of Emma was not dolled up and ready for a night on the town. Instead he preferred her blonde hair piled high on her head and her normal business attire replaced with leggings and an oversized sweater with sleeves so long that they cupped around her palms. Yet that wasn't the image he had that morning as he finished brushing his teeth and made sure that his facial hair was even.

Her hair was still damp from her shower and her clothing more business casual as she lifted the heavy drapery of the hotel room and looked at the street below. She was frowning into her cup of room brewed coffee, a pseudo-delicacy that he planned to skip and remedy with the closest chain coffee place for a latte and some buttery pastry.

Stepping into the room, he greeted her with his own sort of half smile and sought out his socks and shoes. His phone, abandoned on in the center of the rumpled bed, was silent and dark. "No word?"

She shook her head, wrinkling her nose either at the coffee she had just ingested or the question itself. "He'll come around, Killian. I know he will."

The he in question was Liam, who had not been at all happy to hear about their father's call the night before. Somehow he had turned it around that their father and called Killian a few names for considering getting in contact. The angry and tense call had ended abruptly with the older brother refusing to answer subsequent calls and texts. Killian hoped that his brother might calm down after talking to Elsa, but the lack of reply indicated otherwise.

"The Emma I fell in love with wasn't an optimist," Killian joked, jamming his feet into his boots. "She would probably tell me to lose my father's phone number as well."

"You've rubbed off on me." Reaching for the phone, she held it for a moment and then handed it to him. "And I've always thought family was important. The choice of whether you call your father back is up to you."

"You'd think this would be an easier decision since I had us booked to track down the man in London," Killian groused, pulling her over to him so that she stood between his legs. She placed a hand under his chin to bring their eyes in connection. "I feel like a bloody coward for not being able to punch in those numbers."

"You're being cautious," she said, still not letting go. "That's not a bad thing. The ball's in your court and all that. Call him if you think you need to do it or we can throw that phone number in the first sewer grate we pass."

"My mother always said he was too much of everything. Too angry, too bold, too charming when he wanted to be…She said Liam was his copy."

"And you're more like her?"

"Apparently," he laughed. "Liam got her curly hair and coloring, but I suppose I have more of her temperament. She had the voice of an angel. Loved to sing all the time, but only in private."

"So I wouldn't have been able to convince her to sign with the label?" Emma asked, smiling wryly at him at an attempt to add some levity to his wistful remembrance. "Sounds like I might have a good combo. You, her, Liam. Like the Sound of Music but English."

"She was scared of the stage. I remember a lad at some pub where she worked for a time asking to hire her for a show. It was quite a bit more money than she was making at the pub, but she said she couldn't do it. Said it was her greatest fear."

"So she didn't do it?"

"No, she came home with a second job picking up laundry for some of the more prosperous families around us. Said she had a responsibility to her boys to keep us in shoes, food, and clothes. Our father gave her nothing, so it wasn't as though she had any help."

"She sounds like a strong woman. I wish I could have met her. But mostly I wish she could have been there to see you grow up and be proud of the man you are now." She placed the now empty paper cup of coffee aside and looped her arms over his shoulder, leaning her head down to his. "I know you miss her."

His eyes closed, relishing the closeness of her. "I do miss her greatly. And I wish she was here now to see me so happy with you. She'd be rough on you at first, questioning your intentions with me. But in the end she would love you as much as I do. She'd love Henry too."

Resting his hand on her hip, he squeezed a little as she swayed. "I know I'd be so nervous meeting her. You'd have to hold my hand and tell me I was going to be okay."

"Always," he agreed. "And my father? Will you be nervous meeting him?"

She was quiet, the scent of their shared hotel brand body wash mingling between them. "Am I going to meet him?"

"Aye," he said after a pause. "That was the plan for us. Go to London, confront him, and put an end to all this mess. Now that I know he's close at hand, it feels…"

"Too real?"

"Aye."

She hadn't moved from the spot, their foreheads touching, her body molding against his. "I'll call the radio program," she said softly. "I don't think you should put yourself through that whole interview with all this going on. Regina will understand."

"Love, I promised you that I would do it. I keep my word."

"And I love that about you. But you don't really want to do it. And I don't want you to have to do it. Elsa's capable of doing this on her own. Maybe we can even have Anna call in and answer some questions."

He arched back, taking one of her arms down from his shoulders and kissing her hand softly. "You weren't forcing me to do it. And we're already here. I see no reason to back out now."

"You're really going for that title of saint," she teased, squeezing his hand. "Just so we're clear though. I don't want you to feel like you have to do it."

"I don't feel that you have coerced or blackmailed me, love. I am doing it for a variety of reasons, but none should amplify your guilt." He looked up at her pensive expression. "But I might feel better about the whole bloody mess if you were to say kiss me."

"Is that all it takes?" she asked playfully. "So if I kiss you and tell you I sent your father's phone number to Kathryn and Frederick to research, you'd be fine with it?"

He closed his eyes again, breathing in deeply through is nose. "You did that?"

"Maybe?" She sighed, looking sheepish as her face scrunched adorably. "I shouldn't have overstepped, but I know that the two of them are really good about tracking down information on numbers. And since you didn't want to bring Graham in on this…I can tell them to stop."

"Love, you didn't overstep at all. I can recognize that actually tracing my father's number goes a lot farther than me staring at it or listening to his voicemail for the 100th time." He cocked one eyebrow at her still awkward expression and gave her a frown in response. "But you did so behind my back and we may have to consider a bit of punishment." She let her jaw drop a little as if considering if he was serious or not. "I think I am now owed two kisses."

She shimmied her shoulders and rolled her eyes. "If you insist." She lowered her mouth toward his eagerly, but stopped just before they touched. "Just remember that this is not about love. It's simply me paying a debt."

He smiled. "I can live with that."

***AAA***

The assistant producer on the radio program carried over a few of the proposed social media posts on a sheet of paper. Handing it to Emma, the woman, who looked to be barely old enough to vote, pushed her glasses on top of her head. "I have to tell you that I love that song. It's gorgeous. And your boyfriend is going to be huge with the tweens and teens out there. I hope you're already looking at some exposure for him. Does he have Twitter? Instagram?"

"He's not really in the industry," Emma said, skimming through the list of teases for the interview that would be broadcast in syndication around the country. "He wrote the song for our friends' wedding."

"Well," she huffed, glancing over her shoulder as though Killian and Elsa might hear her through the glass partition of the waiting area and studio. "He's got a lot of potential. It's a crime to let that go unchecked."

"He's happy being a teacher and concentrating his efforts there," Emma said, passing the paper back. "But thanks for the compliment. He's certainly talented."

Evie, the assistant, ripped the page back out of Emma's hands. "The production value is great too. I really liked some of the choices. Did he produce it?"

Emma smiled back, tentative and unsure. "That's actually me."

"Amazing. I knew you were a scout for the label, but producing too. I hope that Ms. Mills pays enough. I've heard she can be a little stingy, but so are most execs. You should branch out. There are lots of independent artists looking for a good producer. You could set your own hours, work with just the ones you want. I'm sure you'd make a killing."

"Thanks for the advice," Emma said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "So the interview starts soon?"

"Oh yeah," the woman enthused. "We've already gotten some calls, you know? Calls about Killian and Elsa. Fans I guess. They were asking about them and when and where the interview was. Well mostly about Elsa, but Killian got one too. Some guy. British accent. He was nice. I took that one myself."

"Wait. What? Killian? Someone called about Killian?"

"Yeah, he was really nice. I told him we record in New York, but couldn't tell him more specifically. He was gracious and all. I liked talking to him. Men with accents are just so cute, you know? Of course you know, Killian has an accent too."

"Did he? Did he want any other information?" Emma asked, hoping her face was a mask of what she was actually feeling – panic. This was how Brennan Jones had figured out that Killian was in New York. It was a scenario that had never occurred to her. "Like the hotel or whatever?"

"No, not really," the woman tapped her head at the temple. "Oh wait. He asked if the label was taking care of arrangements. Said he wanted to send flowers as a congratulations to the hotel. I told him I couldn't tell him the hotel but that yes Storybrooke Recording was in charge of it all."

Emma thanked her, hoping the woman would get out of her hair and allow her to make the phone calls and confirm her thoughts. Regina's assistant had been the one to tell which hotel. It would have been easy from there, as they traveled under their own names. Most of the other staff would have been more vigilant, but the head of the label's assistant was not as careful with information.

Sitting tensely through what turned out to be a light and fun interview were the longest minutes of Emma's life. She smiled at the right time and places, shooting Elsa and Killian thumbs up when either made a particularly pithy or insightful statement. To the host's credit, he did not ask them anything too tough. Most of the interview focused on the song, Killian's inspiration in writing it, as well as Elsa's musical interpretation. When it was over both of them were smiling and seemed proud of their work.

"You were really wonderful," Emma told Killian in his ear as she hugged him and waited for Elsa to finish signing an autograph that would be a contest giveaway on the show. Killian had balked at the idea of signing anything himself, stating he was a teacher not a celebrity.

Once all three were deposited safely back at the front of the building, Elsa squinted up at the tall building across the street. "So I've got about an hour before I need to leave for the airport. What do you say we go grab something sinful like a soft pretzel or even pizza from a street vendor? It's not New York without that experience."

Emma decided it would be easier to explain to Killian about his father if they were comfortable and seated, so she held off until they had each ordered a slice of pizza. Elsa offered to pay, joking that Killian held tight to Emma's hand so he would have the excuse of not having a free hand to pull out his wallet. But Emma joked she could take care of it and then proceeded to pull out Killian's wallet and the money necessary. All three laughed at her solution.

"So you must have some harsh critique to share, love," Killian said as they sat on the steps to one of the museums that Elsa had mentioned she wished she had enough time to see. "You've looked quite vexed throughout the interview and since we left."

"You know me too well there, buddy," Emma said, resting a napkin on her knee and hoping that the wind wouldn't blow it off. Of course it did and she frowned. "So I know how your father found you." She proceeded to tell them of the assistant producer's conversation and the phone call. She even told them she had confirmed with Regina's assistant via text that it was she who had divulged the details, not realizing that Elsa's was not the only privacy in in need of protection. "I kind of feel like this is my fault."

"Love, you didn't make the call for that bastard." Killian furrowed his brow, taking another bite of the pizza and looking for all the world like the taste confounded him. She knew better. Even Elsa looked concerned.

"But if I hadn't made you do the interview then this…"

"Well, if you're to blame then so am I," Elsa chimed in, somehow managing to balance the pizza slice, soda, and napkin in elegant style. "I helped convince you to do it. I even played up my injury as reason for wanting to do it." She looked guiltily at the couple. "I should be past the whole solo issue now."

"I probably wouldn't have chosen to do it, but it did make sense," Killian said with a slight shrug. "The song was written by me and was recorded by the two of us. It would have appeared weird for you to do this alone. And despite my misgivings, the actual experience was far from a bad thing. I enjoyed working with you, Elsa. And I didn't even mind the mindless prattle of the interview. So the two of you can stop with your pouting and guilt. I am not upset about the bloody interview."

"So…" Emma said, trying to respect his wishes about not feeling guilty. "What are we going to do about your father?"

"I'm not sure there is a clear cut answer for that. But I do think that we need to get Elsa and the guard on the plane, calm my brother down so that we can talk to him reasonably, rent a car, and drive to wherever this is my father is hiding. I don't wish to do it this way, but enough is enough."

***AAA***

Liam glowered in the background as Graham and David discussed some sort of match that he was neither aware or interested in at all. It was unusual to have them both there, but David and Graham had been together on the golf course when the call came in from Liam about damage to Killian's garage. Nothing appeared to be taken but there was a mess in there, as if someone had been searching hard for something.

Pacing the distance from the dining table to the fireplace, he split his focus between the inane chatter and the clock on the mantle that was ticking closer to having to pick up Elsa at the airport. He welcomed the short amount of time that was left before he could have her safely in his arms.

"So you say this was not the state of the garage when you left last night?" the sheriff asked with a casual air about him. He had his notepad out and a pen hovering above the lined pages. However, his expression was that of all business. The cold winds that seemed even worse on the water had relegated them inside.

"I wouldn't have called you over to see it if it was always that way. I'm sure you're a fine officer, but we aren't exactly mates there, Graham." Liam felt the phone in his pocket vibrate, but he knew it wasn't Elsa. She was midflight and under rules not to use her phone. Since she was the type not to break or even bend the rules, he was left to believe that it was one of the guys in the band or most likely his brother.

"Point taken," he said stoically. "And you're sure nothing's missing. We've had a rash of break ins lately. The pawn shop, two residents on the east side of town, the ice cream store."

"Someone broke into the ice cream shop the week before Thanksgiving when the temperatures are freezing?" David asked incredulously. "Wouldn't it make more sense to hit that during the summer when the register had more money?"

Graham shrugged. "Could be kids or someone stupid. Doesn't take much intelligence to be a thief like that. The good ones aren't getting caught."

"Can we focus on the fact that my brother appears to be getting bolder and hitting even closer. Between causing Elsa's car accident and now this? Don't we have enough for more than a protective order? It's just a bloody piece of paper that offers nothing other than a finger wag." He shoved his hands in his pockets before his fists clenched out of frustration. "Are you even looking for Liam?"

"Of course we're looking for him. The state police were called and have been scouring the area. They've even brought in some of the cyber guys to determine if he can be traced that way. We'll find him." Despite the fact that the page on his notepad was only half full, he flipped to the next page. "How certain are you that Liam is the one that broke into Killian's garage?"

"Who else could it be? This man is clearly trying to hurt me. He almost killed Elsa thinking it was me in the car. What am I supposed to think?"

David leaned back in the chair, throwing one leg onto the other so that his ankle rested on the opposite knee. "Could be those teenagers that Graham was talking about. Or maybe someone down on his luck and looking for something to pawn? Could be some of Killian's students who think they are owed a better grade. The possibilities are endless, but you're right. It might be your brother. Doesn't seem like it though. He usually leaves a note or makes sure you know it is him."

Liam's light blue eyes darted to the husband of Elsa and Emma's friend, narrowing at the man's nonchalance over discussing the issue. He remembered Emma saying something about David's own dysfunctional family and something about a twin brother. So he bit his tongue and looked almost pleadingly at Graham.

"I'll look into it," Graham promised, standing abruptly. "Get Killian to file a report the minute he's back, but I'll give this one a head start. And see if Robin can come over and help you get the structure secure. No sense in leaving it open for the more petty among us. Don't worry, Liam, we'll find this guy."

***AAA***

Emma's hand ran over the soft sweaters displayed at the store where she and Killian had ducked into to avoid a cold rain that only lasted a few minutes. She'd already picked two for Henry, rolling her eyes when Killian suggested that they purchase one for each of them and use them in upcoming Christmas card photos. It wasn't such a bad idea, but she had no intentions of embarrassing her son that badly.

"I bet Mary Margaret, Anna, and even Elsa are already done with their shopping," she said as she tried to see which of the shirts he was browsing seemed to catch is attention. "I'm more last minute."

He nodded, moving a few steps to the left to look at another display. "I haven't bought for more than Liam lately. Though I did purchase a large quantity of Irish whiskey for Granny last year. It seemed appropriate."

She smiled, remembering how Granny pulled that bottle out and showed it to anyone who happened by the private residence long after Christmas. The thoughtful and slightly inappropriate gift had melted a layer or two off her gruff exterior. Though she was back to barking orders shortly after, Emma knew her appreciation had been deep. "We don't have to do anything big this year. I just usually try to get a few things for Henry."

A few things was an understatement, as she had a bad habit of hiding her working mother's guilt behind more stuff – buying presents for any conceivable holiday. She might not make every concert, but dang if he didn't have an extensive video game collection. To her relief Killian looked appalled at the idea.

"It would be dishonest if I said I hadn't had quite a few thoughts of you, me, and the lad celebrating the holidays together. I even took to finding a prime location for a tree in the living room. And before all this mess with our brother started, Liam promised that we could find just the right lights for the outside of the house." He ducked his head. "Mum was always so busy working that we never really had a true holiday like that. I've even begun to research some eggnog recipes and whatnot. Mary Margaret and David may be hosting everyone for Thanksgiving, but I was thinking we might for Christmas. Henry would love it." Both eyebrows went high with the request, his cheeks pink with the excitement boiling under the surface.

She held out a single arm and twisted it dramatically. "You win," she said, pretending to consider the victory carefully. "But no inflatable snowmen or Santa. I hate those things."

"Animatronics?" he asked playfully, abandoning his clothing search and stepping closer. "I was thinking an elf workshop theme."

"Dork," she teased, shaking her head before kissing him chastely. "And you're right. Henry will love it. He'll probably draw up a diagram and plan the whole thing out for you. Then it will take all of January and February to clean it back up again."

"Gladly. Perhaps we could even do matching pajamas? I hear they are quite the fashion this time of year."

If he had looked less earnest and her phone had not buzzed, she might have dismissed that wish too. She had never found the joy in dressing alike. But given his excitement, she might have to reconsider the idea. It was a nice thought to have some of her traditions, Henry's traditions, and Killian's all melding together, creating new ones along the way.

She frowned at her phone, and he knew right away that it was about his father. Raking his hand over his face he waited for her to respond. "Any word?"

"I'm not sure I was expecting this. Your father's number is not a cell phone at all. It's a landline. A recovery center upstate that focuses on spiritual and overall health in terms of alcohol and drug recovery. A rehab basically." She tapped the link and stared at the stock images of people in loose flowing outfits sitting on grassy banks as they stared upward at white fluffy clouds in perfect blue skies. "I suppose it makes sense. He's got that liver issue."

"Which was taken care of?" Killian shook his head. "Wouldn't they require him to be sober before he underwent such treatment?"

"I honestly don't know," Emma said, shoving the phone back down. "Why don't we pay for this stuff and head over for a drink and look into this information. I'm thinking I could use one. And if I can, you certainly can."

***AAA***

Liam frowned at the lone suitcase circling the carousel at the airport. Everyone had picked up their luggage from that flight more than an hour before and left the battered purple bag to circle endlessly until some sky cap or porter picked it up and took it out of its misery. For as little as he knew of its owner, Liam felt very much like that bag, aimlessly wandering through a scenario that couldn't possibly be his life.

His phone vibrated in his hand and with a cursory glance he dismissed the message from his brother in hopes that the next would be from Elsa saying she had safely landed. Killian wanted to talk. He was talked out on the subject of their father. He had nothing left to say or do on the subject.

Elsa had asked him the same questions as Killian when she had called that morning. She wanted to know if he would prefer to meet them in New York and travel upstate to see his father. He'd said no. She said he might regret the decision. He said he didn't care. She asked if he would talk to Killian again, as his brother was concerned and worried. He said he couldn't. She had told him she loved him as she hung up the phone, but he'd heard it. He'd heard the disappointment.

He wasn't a stranger to that sound of disappointment in a person's voice. His mother had sounded that way when he had gotten into trouble at school. His father had sounded that way in his younger years. Even Killian had worn a mask of it when he'd shown up on his younger brother's doorstep with the ink of his discharge papers still wet. To hear it from Elsa was even more troubling though.

"Hello there, sailor," Elsa said, throwing her arms around him and giggling a little at the oomph sound he made in surprise at her affectionate greeting.

"I thought you were to call me when you arrived," he said, suddenly confused. "Did you not have a signal?"

"The crowd kept surging forward. Travel on the weekend before a holiday is brutal." She grinned, arching back to take a better look at him. "Besides you told me where you'd be."

She was not the type for public displays of affection and there was a crowd gathering to pick up their luggage. Two people had already run into them and a man in dark jeans and non-descript cable knit sweater was watching from the sidelines, an overstuffed backpack on one shoulder. "Your guard?" he asked, nodding in the man's direction.

"Frank," Elsa confirmed, letting go with one arm to secure her grip on her own carry-on bag. "We talked at the airport and on the plane. He's got a wife and two kids. Another one on the way in a few weeks."

"And your wife was okay about you traveling to another state so close to the holidays?" Liam asked incredulously. "And you were okay with it?"

Frank, who had to be at least 6'3" and 280 pounds of muscle grinned beneath a heavy mustache and shifted the backpack to the other shoulder. "Yeah, my wife is a big fan of Elsa and Anna. I kind of promised to ask for an autograph."

Elsa beamed at Liam, clearly proud of her ability to make conversation with the man despite the awkwardness of the situation. "I am never going to be used to that."

"Well, seeing as you probably already signed it and Frank here probably wants to get home to that family, let's run along now. My rental's in a good spot." He relieved Elsa of her bag and placed a hand at the small of her back to guide her through the crowded baggage claim area. With only the barest pressure on her back, he realized she wasn't moving. "Darling? You didn't plan to stay here at the airport, did you?"

"I think you should fly to New York," she said resolutely. Reaching up, she cupped his jaw and cheek with a slender hand. "Go to Killian. Stand with him and face your father. I know you don't want to see him. I get that. But you and I both know that it is going to eat at you. Look at you now. You've got bags under your eyes. You're testy and moody. And frankly you're probably going to say something to your brother or to me that you regret. So let's pretend that you've said all your protests. And I've said mine. Go. I'll be here when you get back."

Liam looked helplessly at Frank who was craning his neck to either look away from them not so discretely or trying to spot any danger. Either way wasn't helping Liam. "You have got to be kidding. You just got home. Last night without you was torture."

"For me too," she said with a smile. "I know for a fact that there is one seat next on the next flight. You have just enough time to make it."

"I'm not going," he said just as stubbornly. "I won't leave…"

If he thought that digging his feet in would sway her, it didn't. She stared back at him with the same resolve and determination, her eyes icy as she regarded him though there was a softness in her expression. He recognized that and loved it. "You're being unfair to Killian," she noted softly. "I've never known you to be intentionally cruel, Liam. And yet you're hurting him. He didn't understand. Not really. And you won't even return his calls."

"An airport isn't the place for this." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Bloody hell, Elsa. Let's just go home. I'm not going to New York. I'm not playing into this here in front of God and everyone. Elsa, let's drop it. My brother has a fantasy that needs to stop now."

She let her jaw go slack. "Really? A fantasy? Liam, why is it such a bad thing…"

"Because Brennan Jones uses people. And despite the fact that I drilled it into my brother's head. Despite his fiancé's reassurances. Despite all of it, Killian could walk in there and forgive him, opening himself up to all manners of pain. And I don't know if I can stop it."

That she could understand, as an older sister who wanted to protect and defend her little sister. But still she knew what it was like to lose the chance to speak to a parent, to never have the final words or emotions conveyed and assume that they understood before they were gone. "He wants you there. Killian. He wants you there."

"Elsa," he shook his head sadly. "I am not sure I'm strong enough for this." He glanced over her shoulder and the crowded area of people greeting each other, tired, hungry, elated, sad. Every emotion was on display in that one spot. "I just can't. Forgive me?"

"I'll always forgive you, Liam. I just hope that Killian can."

Giving a tilt of his head in Frank's direction, they headed toward the exit, Elsa quiet and contemplative, Liam unsure and sulking. She had tried. Later that night when she texted Emma that would be what she said. She had tried.

***AAA***

Emma's cheeks were nearly as red as the thick woolen scarf around her neck, the lone spots of color with her black coat and dark gray beanie that she had worn with the prediction of snow flurries that afternoon. Allowing Killian to keep his hand free, she looped her arm through his for both warmth and closeness as they made their way through some of the more touristy sights of the city. While she tried to keep the conversation light, she could feel the tension radiating off him. He checked his phone for missed calls when he thought she wasn't looking and seemed to have a faraway glaze to his eyes.

"We don't have to do this," she said after they snapped a selfie in front of one of the theater marquees that boasted a show they both wanted to see but couldn't manage tickets.

"I thought you at least wanted to see the sign. Perhaps there is a scalper though? Might cost a bit, but it would be worth it…" he let his gaze drop. "Oh. You mean…"

"You haven't said anything about it. Your father. Do you want to go see him? I can still call about a car."

The sky was starting to spit snow, tiny flakes that were neither beautiful nor a nuisance yet. They melted the second that they touched their skin or coats. Still he brushed at her to rid her of anything that cold and bothersome. "You know, love, as much as I love your strategic mind and preparedness, this is less a case of logistical questions and more of emotional."

"I suppose I'm just not sure what to say," she admitted. "Killian, I want to be here for you. Whatever you need. You just have to ask me."

"I wish I knew what I needed. It would make it easier." Her hand were rubbing up and down his arms, not any particular pattern or purpose. He was grateful for the familiar motion that usually preceded or coincided with their lips touching passionately. "I need my brother to stop being such a wanker and talk to me. I need my father to be honest."

"I wish I could make those things happen."

"And perhaps that is all either of us can do." He sighed. "Elsa was going to talk to him. Tell him that his place was here confronting our father. I doubt it will help."

"You should have hope," she said, her black leather covered hand stopping at his neck, fingers curling into the hair on the back of his head. "I'm not your brother, but I'll be there."

He tilted his head, eyes half closed. "Your being there is the only thing keeping me in control of myself right now, love. I don't know that I could face him without you."

She yanked on his arm, throwing him off balance and catching him at the same time. Her lips fused to his, the kiss hard and needy there on the sidewalk and half under the awning for some shop. She parted her mouth, inviting him inside as her hands resumed their slow massage of him. His grunt of surprise disappeared into more of a sigh. Her lips were soft and supple against his, the flesh pushing against his, tugging at his bottom lip incessantly.

"I thought you did not appreciate a good public make out session, love?"

"Some rules are meant to be broken," Emma declared. She bunched the softly worn leather of his jacket in her hands and ignored the startling sound of car horns close by as someone must have committed some heinous act of bad driving. "So we are…"

"We'll drive up in the morning. With or without my blasted brother." He gave her an awkward wink. "In the meantime, may we please go about our evening of adult entertainment without a second thought about my family? I would prefer to enjoy this time alone with you as much as I possibly can. After all, I only have a limited time to properly woo my fiancé before she becomes my lovely wife."

She pretended to consider his proposal, tilting her head and twisting her mouth in faux contemplation. "Deal, but we have to deal with the car first. And someone has to call Mary Margaret and David about not taking Henry to the airport. And we have to do something about the airline tickets. Maybe we could drive home rather than fly. It might be a nice escape for us?"

"I rather like that idea, love," he smiled wider. "Have I told you that I love you for your brilliant mind?"

"Among other things."

"I am a fan of every part of you, Emma Swan."

"Soon to be Emma Jones," she countered. "And I know you're going to agree when I suggest you call Mary Margaret." She pretended to wince. "I love my friend dearly. But if I call, she's going to tell me all the bridal shops and whatnot I need to visit in New York. And she won't lay off until I somehow agree to do it. She won't do that to you."

He chuckled, digging into his pocket for his phone. "Very well, my love. You deal with the car and I will take on the wedding planner and teacher extraordinaire, Mrs. Nolan. We'll take on the airlines later."

The duo ducked into a yogurt shop that seemed only slightly less busy than anything else, ordering a shared treat and then beginning Killian's call and Emma's attempts to rent a vehicle on her phone. She could only catch his end of the conversation, but she considered herself lucky to not be the recipient of her excited friend's questions. He could barely get in the request about Henry before he was promising to check out some restaurant she had read about and offering to find her a t-shirt that she had seen another teacher wearing.

"Aye, I will certainly pass that information along," he said, cradling his phone between his ear and shoulder as he scribbled something on a napkin. "No, Emma's been a bit preoccupied to do any wedding shopping, but I'm sure it will be priority soon enough."

That must have sent the woman into a long soliloquy of details and information, as he nodded and chimed in with appropriate responses. All the while he waggled his eyebrows at Emma over her phone. The entire scene was amusing and she was tuning out his robotic reactions until she heard him ask her to repeat herself. In quick succession he asked a few questions and then thanked her again for agreeing to look after Henry until their return. Emma lowered the phone and looked at him questioningly.

"It would appear that someone smashed the lock to our garage and did a bit of snooping around. According to David, Liam could find nothing missing but was not completely sure. It seems David was unaware that Liam had not notified me at all about it." He shook his head, digging his spoon into the dish of peanut butter and chocolate flavored yogurt. He never lifted it to his mouth, placing it back in the plastic dish with a sigh. "I understand that he is angry about our father, but this is a time to put that aside and tell me of the development and the fact he had to call out the sheriff."

She clicked the confirm button before the six minute limit ran out, electing to ignore the fact she had completed her task in favor of being supportive. "Graham is thinking it's your younger brother?"

"Not sure. I'm hearing this from the wife of the man who was there for my brother to tell the sheriff. It's not exactly first hand knowledge." He balled his hand up into a fist and tapped it against his forehead. "It's truly maddening to think my brother is so unwilling to talk to me that he would think this information better left unsaid. What if that wanker broke into the house? What if you or Henry had been there?"

"He didn't," Emma said, ignoring that twinge that told her she was worried about the same thing. "He hasn't. We're fine. And all we store in the garage is junk that neither of us can bring ourselves to part with. Maybe it's a sign we should."

"A fact I'm grateful for."

She felt as if she had spent most of the weekend asking him what he wanted to do. It was his choice. She knew he had to be the one to choose when and where to see his father. He had to be the one to confront both of his brothers. Or he could to decide to ignore it all. So she asked him one more time what he wanted to do.

He pulled the phone from her hand, setting it aside on the table. "The plan has not changed. First we've got this frozen dessert to finish. After that I will place a call to Graham to find out what I can. You check into out flight situation? Then we're off."

He made good on that promise, hurrying through the conversation and waving them down a cab while she explained the situation to some ticket agent over the phone. As they slid into the car she gave him a thumbs up at her success in negotiating their ticket transfers. She even managed to read and respond to a text from Elsa about Liam's refusal before following his lead and placing the phone in her coat pocket. By the time they made it back to the hotel to change for dinner, she was quite a bit calmer and he certainly was as well.

Stepping out of the dressing area, barefoot in her red and black dress, she laughs and twirls in place to his appreciative reaction. "You know I sort of thought you might like this. Even if you did first try to woo me with a boardwalk arcade."

"You were reluctant," he said, clearly enjoying the view as she bent to retrieve her shoes. "I had to surprise you."

"You've surprised me and even made me surprise myself with how easily I fell for you." She swept her hair over one shoulder. "Not that I'm complaining."

He stood from his seat, his own dark colored pants and shirt with its waistcoat conforming nicely to his body. "I'm not sure I wish to share you with this city tonight. Perhaps we should stay in? Entertain ourselves?"

She walked easily in her heels, something he could never understand how she did, slowly sauntering toward him. "I was promised a date," she reminded him. "No paper placemats. No playgrounds. No Granny's."

"And I shall do my best, my love."

"That's all either of us can do, Killian."