He shook awake just before dawn, the warmth of the body next to him more than a little comforting as his eyes blinked into the unfamiliar darkness of the hotel room. Their romantic and sweet date of dinner, dancing, and a carriage ride through Central Park that she had called touristy, had been a wonderful reprieve from the anticipated conversations with his father and the feeling that his brother was not at his side in all this. Still the doubts and fears returned full force as soon as his eyes had closed.

Emma mumbled something against his chest, her sleepy eyes locking with his as she smiled almost shyly and tugged at the sheet that covered them haphazardly. "We have to be up soon," she told him, propping herself up on one arm. "But if you want we can talk."

His right arm was around her, holding her as she studied his face and mimicked his own sadness. He lifted the battered and scarred arm at his left, holding high the wound that was usually covered with a prosthetic. "I'm not sure he even knows about this," he said, dropping his arm back at his side. She instinctively reached for it, her thumb caressing over the scars. "Foolish, I know, but I hate for him to find out. I would rather not appear weak to him."

"You won't," she said, her grip on his arm tightening. "You aren't weak. The man I know and love is strong, brave, and probably a better man than Brennan Jones ever imagined when he left. This…" She squeezed his arm again. "This doesn't matter. Not in showing who you are, not really."

Rolling his neck on the pillow, he glanced toward that wrist and grimaced. "My father gave up any chance at a relationship with me or with Liam so many years ago. I can't let myself believe that he's changed or that the outcome will be any different now."

She smiled sadly at him, placing a soft kiss at his shoulder, as it was the closest area of skin she could reach to do so. "Killian, I don't know why your father did that. And I certainly don't know why he's reached out now. But I know something about being abandoned. If you let him, he can hurt you. Only if you let him. Go there tomorrow or today or whatever and see what he wants. See if he can explain. But don't forget what he did. Don't let yourself be hurt by him."

"You have more confidence in my abilities than I, love."

"Maybe I just know that when we walk out of that place tomorrow, we're not losing or gaining anything other than closure. No matter what your father says or does, we're still going to be happy together. We're still getting married. We're still going to see Henry and hear all about camping. You're still going to start this new venture with Mary Margaret. You're still Killian. I'm still Emma. Those are the things that matter."

"I suppose I want him to be honest with me. I would hate for him to see my lack of a hand as a reason to pity me."

"He'd be a stupid man if that's all he could do," Emma said firmly. "You don't think I pity you, do you? Because I admire you for what you can do that others take for granted. And I don't find you lacking at all."

"I suppose we will see what stuff my father is made of soon enough."

"And then maybe we'll have an explanation for your younger brother and a way to stop him from all this stalker stuff. We can go back to planning our wedding. Elsa and Liam can move back to the condo."

"Despite the mundane nature of all that, I quite hope you're right, Emma. I can't wait to have you as my wife. Should we consider moving that little plan along faster? A trip to city hall, perhaps?" While there was mirth in his question, she was not sure that it was completely heartfelt. His eyes did not dance like the usually did when he teased her. She knew that his heart was still heavy with worry about his father. She might have even said something about that if her phone had not vibrated another warning of a text message.

"Your interview yesterday was broadcast in about 300 markets overnight. Regina's a little excited." She scrunched up her face. "I have already told her no more. You're hanging up your writing and performing hat. I'm not ever asking you to do that crap again."

"Never?" he asked. "Because I was thinking that perhaps I might write a song for our wedding. You are the one who inspires me most, love."

"As wonderful as that sounds," Emma said warningly. "That's totally how we ended up in this mess. No, if you want to serenade me, you do it in private and do a cover." She gave him her most serious and slightly motherly look. "Do whatever you want. You know that I'm not that hard to please."

Yelping, she felt him roll her over onto her back as he hovered over her. "I daresay you are nearly impossible to please, love. I had to work at it to convince you that dating would not damage you in some way."

She twisted her mouth to one side. "So I'm a little picky. That should make you feel good. You broke through that."

"I am quite proud that I broke through your walls." His breath was warm against her, his eyes softer and less pained than before. "I hope you are truly happy with me. As I am with you."

"Killian," she said, taking his face between her hands. "I promise that I have never been happier than when I'm with you. I love you."

"And I you."

***AAA***

Elsa stared at the screen and blinking cursor, wracking her brain to find the right words for a social media post that would speak to her fans and yet not draw undue attention to herself. Graham had said a bit of publicity was fine, warning her to keep more intimate details private. She was grateful to her fans, though she did sometimes feel odd in having them at all.

"Almost done, darling?" Liam asked from the doorway. He'd already been down to the garage and put some things back in order so as to not leave it all for Killian. "Robin texted that he would be by in a bit to look at some security features for the garage. I think he's bringing Regina and Roland with him."

Her violet blue eyes widened at the news. "We're inviting people over to your brother's home when he's not here?"

"It's more like they invited themselves. Besides, you like them."

She flexed her fingers over the computer's keyboard. "Yeah, I like Robin and Roland."

"Regina is a bit of a bother, I know, but it appears a package deal. I thought I'd put on some water for tea and perhaps order something in? Pizza? Chinese?"

"She doesn't strike me as the take out carton kind of woman," Elsa mused. "Let me finish this and I'll be down in a minute. I'm sure there's something in the kitchen I can whip up that even Regina will find palatable."

"I'll be there to assist," he told her, kissing the crown of her head. "I can be your sous chef today."

"A captain assisting a woman without a rank? I'm not sure that will win you any points."

Bending at the waist, he playfully nuzzled the side of her neck. "I rather think you have an even more impressive title. You've always struck me more as a princess or some other type of lovely royal."

She leaned backwards into his embrace, nudging his face to lock eyes with him. "I prefer queen. She's the one in charge. So I'd rather be the queen."

"Then so you shall, darling." He looked toward the blank spot on the screen where she had been concentrating her efforts with no results. "Aren't there people to do that for you? A social media coordinator? An intern?"

She ran the tip of her nose against his jawline. "I said I would make a few suggestions. I guess something about how the interview went. We have a picture of me with the host and Killian. I guess that would work, but what is there to say about it? Had a good time? Lots of questions? Hope you enjoyed?"

"You're thinking about it too hard. Your fans just want to hear from you. Say something about your favorite moment or a little behind the scenes tidbit. It doesn't have to be much." Pushing the down arrow, he pointed with his index finger to the screen. "Look here, darling. Your fans are asking about everything from your shoes to your favorite movies. I'd say the field is wide open."

"Well, once I get this done, I'm sure Regina will have plenty of suggestions. I'm glad she'll be here and not driving me insane with texts and emails that she copies Emma on and tells her to ignore. Those are followed by Emma basically translating for me, helping me see that she's not so evil and horrible."

"You don't have to be here when she arrives," Liam suggested, pulling her hand from over the keyboard and kissing her palm gently. "I can make your excuses. You could go see Anna or perhaps…"

"I'm not afraid of Regina. I just don't particularly like her. Maybe seeing her outside of work will help. Besides I like spending time with you. And Roland is absolutely adorable. You do realize that once Anna and Kris have their baby that we're going to spend quite a few weekends playing the fun aunt and uncle."

"Sounds delightful, so long as I am not expected to do much more than make funny faces and noises for the wee one. I'm not quite the parental figure that my brother has managed to be over the years."

***AAA***

The rented sedan carried the couple easily along the back roads of upstate New York. They probably could have made better time on the interstate, but had decided to opt for a more scenic view and slower pace. Perhaps it was avoidance, but Emma and Killian did not seem to mind the label as they had lingered over coffee at a quaint restaurant an hour outside the city and taken a few photos to share with Henry once they got back home.

"It's comfortable," Killian announced as Emma perused her emails and typed out a few of her own with her thumbs. The break in silence startled the blonde passenger.

"What? Oh. The car. Yeah, it's pretty nice." Her eyes lifted from the phone to the road. "We're farther than I thought."

"You've been a bit preoccupied with the phone. I didn't think it was right to disturb you about it." He made a quick glance to the rearview mirror and then back to the road again. "I think it's roomier than my jeep or your car."

"Yeah," she said, lowering the phone to her denim clad lap. "You are looking for another car? Seriously? Is there something wrong with the jeep? I like the jeep."

"The jeep's fine. It's just got a rather small backseat. So does your car. What with Henry being a growing lad and our discussion about perhaps adopting a child or children…we might need more room. I was just thinking that it might make sense for one of us to have a more family friendly vehicle."

She glanced over her shoulder to the tan leather seats and wrinkled her nose. "Like a minivan or an SUV?"

He chuckled, his thumb rubbing against the steering wheel nervously. "I take it you don't like those ideas."

"I didn't say that. I just have a hard time picturing you without your jeep. And a harder time picturing me without my car. It makes sense. But the idea is kind of hard to imagine for us." She reached over to touch his arm. "It makes me feel old. I know I have a 13 year old son. And that technically makes me old. But the idea of minivans, carpools, soccer, band practice, teacher conferences. Oh God, I already do those things."

"Do I need to pull to the side, Emma?" he asked, feigning concern behind a brightly growing smile. "Do you need a moment?" Gesturing with his prosthetic hand, he chuckled. "I wasn't suggesting it was time for you to retire or consider joining a bridge club. I was only thinking about the inconvenience of trying to transport a child or children."

"It makes total sense," she admitted, her cheeks pink from the slight embarrassment of overreacting. "I guess I wasn't thinking about it when…I want to do this. I really do. I just realized that things will change. And I mean, how are we going to afford it? We kind of stretched the budget with the work we did renovating the attic? And Henry's growing so fast that I'm practically going broke with clothes and school uniforms. And while we haven't talked about it, I kind of get the feeling you're thinking about this offer from Mary Margaret."

His sigh was labored as he followed the GPS directions and turned left on a stretch of road that seemed even less busy. "I haven't really made a decision. I wouldn't without you, you know?"

"What are you wanting to do?" she asked, shoving the phone into her purse by her feet and twisting in her seat to face him better. "It might be good. You wouldn't have Gold to contend with as much. You seem excited about Mary Margaret's ideas for curriculum. It could be a good change for you."

"Aye, but it could also flop and leave me penniless and destitute. I am hardly a wealthy man, my love, but this is a bit more than just a simple wager on the future. It could be quite damning to my career should it not work out and I have to find a new position."

She smoothed his hair at the spot over his ear, smiling softly as he instinctively moved his head toward her. "There's always music," she said hesitantly. "I know you said you don't like the spotlight and all that, but what about song writing. With my role at the label, I could probably sell dozens of your songs. It's not as lucrative as performing, but still…" She stopped herself. "You don't want to do that, do you?"

"Love, if you wish for me to explore that as an option, I doubt I would disagree with you. But no, it's not high on my priority list. If I am struck by inspiration to write another song, I would much prefer to share it only with those I love."

***AAA***

"Things seem cozy," Liam said, hoping that the teasing of Robin would take the place of the rock in the pit of his stomach. It didn't, but it was at least a little distracting. "You and Regina."

"We're taking things a step at a time." Robin jotted down a measurement and then stared at the pad before making another note. "And unlike you and Elsa, I have a son to consider. Plus she's a bit out of my league."

"If you're looking at it from the perspective of money and power, then yes. But I'd say you surpass her in other areas. Besides weren't you and Marian always talking about love not being a contest? Nobody's keeping score, mate." Bending at the waist, Liam picked up a spilled box of tools and began to replace the items in the wooden crate.

"Using my own words against me is hardly fair." Robin chuckled. "When I met Marian, I knew. I knew I wanted to be with her. I knew she was the one. I never thought I deserved her, but it never stopped me from wanting that life with her. Even before Roland entered our lives, I was happily oblivious to the idea that there was any other path in life for me. And once he was born, well…I have to tell you that it does something to a man to watch the love of his life become the mother of his son. And then it was over. She was gone."

The last of the scattered tools went into the box and Liam returned it to one of the shelves. "I didn't mean to dredge all that up. I was simply trying to distract us from the silence with gossip about Regina."

"No offense meant, mate. I was simply trying to find something to talk about. I had not meant to hit a nerve." He frowned as he reached for an overturned canister. "I suppose I could ask about the weather, your business, if you have any plans for this holiday, or any thoughts on those new songs Emma sent last week for our live shows."

Robin craned his neck back to inspect the higher windows, taking the tape measure from the sill to the floor and deciding it was probably not worth the efforts to alarm each one. "It's a bit cold but that's normal for this time of year, business is going well especially with the Joneses needing my services, just a quiet sort of dinner at Regina's, and I haven't had much of a chance to listen yet." He smirked back at his friend. "Should I ask you the same questions or should we admit that I suck at the small talk stuff?"

"Perhaps I should go check on the lasses and leave you to it?"

***AAA***

Emma and Killian both admitted they were expecting the rehab center to appear more clinical than spa like as they were led through a lobby that included stone floors and water feature that was supposed to be calming. Floor to ceiling windows revealed a leafy oasis outside, framed by wood and stone accents. The woman behind the desk had smiled so brightly when Killian signed in that she nearly split her face in two, enthusing that Brennan had spoken of his sons with such pride.

"I didn't picture this," he admitted as they were directed to sit in a waiting area that could have been someone's living room with cloud soft leather sofas and lemony yellow walls. "I thought…"

She was sitting at his left, something they had previously discussed, as he wanted to be able to extend his right hand to his father easily. Rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, she tried to spread some of the confidence she knew he was lacking. "It's going to be fine."

"Aye, it is. Or it isn't. Can't do much to change that now."

He wasn't usually so fatalistic, but this trip seemed to bring it out of him. "I won't say anything," she told him, covering his wrist and prosthetic with both her hands. "I don't want to…"

"I don't expect you to sit there mutely. Surely you can think of something to say."

"I don't want to be too friendly. I don't want to be too mean either. A happy balance. That's what I want to be."

"Sounds lovely." Killian leaned forward and stared out the French doors to the hallway in search of the receptionist or his father. There were two false starts, as there were others wandering the halls. Killian was not completely sure he would even recognize his father who had taken on a bit of legendary status in his own head. When a thin and long limbed man walked into the room, Killian was taken aback and surprised. His face and features were much more angular and his dark eyes sunk back farther into his head. A mop of thick and unruly hair indicated that he had that same habit of running his hand through it still. Killian could see that repetitive motion as his mother spoke of unpaid bills and obligations.

"Killian," the man said, taking a step forward with his arms partially extended. When his son did not stand, he took a step back and eventually lowered his arms. "I wasn't sure…I hoped…"

"I thought it was time we spoke," Killian said, his voice shaking slightly. While he hoped no one noticed the tremor, Emma must have since her hand rubbed his covered wrist with a bit more pressure. "I have questions."

"I'm sure you do," Brennan said, motioning to a seat diagonal from the loveseat as if asking permission. When Killian nodded, the older man sat down, folding his hands over his chest as he did. For the first time he looked toward Emma. "And you are…"

She turned to look at Killian, not sure if he would introduce her or if she should explain her presence. He glanced downward and then out at his father. "This is my fiancé, Emma. Emma, this is…"

"Brennan Jones," the man interrupted, tipping his head toward her. "Your fiancé? That's brilliant, Killian. Such a lovely bride for you. When is the happy day?"

"We are still working on that," Emma answered when Killian did not respond. "It's hard to plan with everything going on."

"I'm sure it will be soon though," Killian supplied. "Not that…"

"I wasn't fishing for an invitation, son. I was simply making conversation with your lovely girlfriend. I suppose I still think of you as that wee lad at your mother's side. Hard to imagine you with a wife and family. But you are grown now, and quite well it would seem. You're happy, healthy?"

"I'm well," Killian answered curtly. "And we are happy."

Emma didn't respond, smiling at Killian in a way she probably intended as reassuring, as she could feel his muscles still tense at her side. If she looked at Brennan carefully she would see the similarities between him and his sons. Killian had his nose and jaw, even similar cheekbones. And though the older man's hair was lighter at the temples now, the coloring of both men was on point too. It took Emma a moment to realize and remember her high school genetics lesson that Brennan's chocolate eyes did not preclude him from being father to his blue eyed sons. Something about recessive genes or something.

When she had figured that out, Killian was answering vaguely that his career was going well and that Emma's son lived with them. She again gave her most reassuring smile. It was then that Killian asked about the initial contact with Liam and whether or not he had made it.

"I did," Brennan said, holding up his arm to display a hospital bracelet. He was wearing clothing rather than hospital garb, a rust colored sweater and dark jeans hanging loosely on his thin frame. "My doctors insisted I contact family to see about a donor. I was not eligible for the official recipient list, as I have not been sober all that long. When Liam refused, I gave up hope in…Killian, I didn't do right by you. It's not even a matter of confession to admit that. It's…I regret it. I regret that gave up my sons."

His jaw clenched and eyes narrowed to nearly slits. "You gave us up? You say that as though you left us in the care of someone else. Our mother died. You are our father and you ignored your responsibility. Not only that, but you left us behind while you started a new life. You replaced us with that new life…"

"I know it looks that way, son."

Killian pulled his arm out of Emma's grip. "Looks that way? It was that way. You named your new son after your first son. Who would do that but a man trying to replace the old parts of his life. You had no intentions of ever having us as a part of your life. You only contacted my older brother out of this need. There is no way else to see it. Don't you realize that we can count? Your son Liam was conceived and born before our mother ever died. You cheated on her, left her penniless and ill." Killian stood abruptly, his breathing measured and his one hand clenched into a fist.

"Killian," Emma said, partially standing to join him. "You wanted…"

His eyes flashed toward hers, the anger evident along with regret for having seemed to heartless. "I don't wish to relive old times. I'm here to talk about you. About Liam."

Brennan looked as though he had assumed that to be true. "I knew your brother would be angry. I deserve that anger."

"Expect no argument from me on that."

"It was unfair of me to expect his support or his help. I learned that lesson and followed his instructions not to contact you, Killian. Not until I knew you were so close." Brennan touched the plastic hospital bracelet with his fingers, the lone symbol that he was not a free man to come and go. "I've been here a few weeks now. Two to be exact. And I'm trying to understand myself better. I regret how I treated you and your brother. I hoped that you would be ready to hear my apology."

"Which would apology would that be? What are you sorry for now? Leaving us? Not answering the cries for help that Liam sent when we were in danger of being on the streets? What do you regret? Naming your sons the same thing? Raising your youngest with so much anger that he's now threatening to harm my older brother? Tell me! What is it that is your biggest regret? Apologize for it so I can move on with my life and leave you here."

Brennan turned briefly to Emma upon hearing the accusation against the younger Liam. When she showed no emotion at all other than her radiant concern over her fiancé, he faced his son again. "I…Liam? He's done something? I…I thought he was back in London. He didn't stay around here for very long after I arrived. He said he had things to tend to back home." The heel of his left hand rested at his eye. "He was angry at him. Thought he should have…well…"

"I'm not here about the reasons why." He lowered himself back to the seat, perching on the end of it like he might run any moment. "I want to know if you are involved. Did you put him up to it?"

"No, I wouldn't do that. I love each of you. I know it doesn't seem that way. And as for the name…well, that was a bit of a tricky situation. You see, Liam is also the name of my wife's father. When she found out we were having a boy, she was quite insistent. I couldn't tell her that I didn't want to give that name to another of my sons."

***AAA***

Roland was a good ice breaker between Regina and Elsa, as he kept both of them entertained with his constant dialogue. He was confused at first where his beloved Uncle Killian and Aunt Emma were when he arrived and found Elsa and Liam in their place. There was almost no consoling him when he realized that his best friend Henry was not there either. Yet he soon calmed down and was showing Elsa and Regina how Killian and Henry had shown him the best view of the docked boats from the second story of the house.

"I think your father and Uncle Liam might need some help," Regina urged gently. "They look confused."

Elsa stifled a giggle at the sight of Roland pumping his legs and arms as he ran for his father.

"I'm coming, Papa. I can help. Just wait for me!"

Regina stood at the door and watched until the boy was in his father's embrace and then turned on her heeled shoes toward Elsa. "I'm hearing good things about the interview. You apparently impressed quite a few people. And sales via download are really taking off. I don't usually suggest doing this, but we need to strike now. So I want you and Killian in my office a week from Monday to record something new. That's enough time, right? For Killian to write something?"

"Killian's a teacher, Regina. He's not a songwriter or singer."

Chocolate brown eyes blinked back at Elsa incredulously. "You're assuming I don't know that. Just have him come back in after his classes or whatever. We can make some progress in a few hours each day after his schedule. That will work, right?"

***AAA***

Emma could see Killian through the narrow glass pane beside the door as she paced and waited on Mary Margaret to finish her detailed analysis of the state of her son. She was worried about Henry, as that went with the territory of being a mother. But the fact that his newest coat had a slight tear in it was really such a minor issue that she was nearly ready to scream at her friend to get to the point.

"Is everything okay?" Mary Margaret asked, clearly taking a break from her careful reporting. "I mean with you and Killian?"

"We're visiting his father right now," Emma explained. "I guess I'm anxious to get back in there. I've never really seen Killian this on edge." It wasn't a lie as she spied through the glass again and watched as Killian's hand clenched into an angry fist that she hoped would not land anywhere.

"Oh God, he's…" Mary Margaret paused. "Look, take as much time as you need. Henry is fine here. David's got him down at the shelter taking a look at that dog. I know that you haven't decided yet, but it doesn't hurt to look, not really."

"Thanks, Mary Margaret," Emma said with choked back sigh. "I know he needs to hear from me. I'll call back a little later. Maybe things will be more settled then."

"No problem. And for what it's worth, I'm glad you, Henry, and Killian will be in town for Thanksgiving. It wouldn't have been the same without you. I love you, Em."

"I love you too."

She crammed the phone back into her pocket and walked toward the door again, her hand already extended to open it. She knew she had very little to say to the man who had seemed so kind on the surface. Her own experience was probably clouding her judgement, but she could feel the insecurity radiating off of Killian as he faced the man who should have loved him beyond everything and didn't. His stern expression softened as she snuck back into the room. It wasn't exactly covert, as both men stopped talking as she entered and took her place next to Killian.

"Your son is okay?" Brennan asked her, one of the few questions directed toward her.

"Fine," she answered, keeping it succinct. "I told Mary Margaret we'd be home soon."

Killian lowered his head. "How serious is it?" he asked his father, not letting his gaze reach. "The prognosis."

"I wasn't exaggerating when I told your brother I need a transplant. It's not out of the question that I might find a donor at some point. I suppose it is a fitting situation after years of drinking."

"And you're here to stop?" Killian reiterated, his shoulder brushing Emma's. "Because Liam said no to you."

"Killian, I never expected your brother to say yes. It is quite an invasion of all we hold dear to think that I can just reinsert myself into your lives. He made that clear and was clear that you felt the same." The man's half smile was similar to that of his sons. "I agreed only out of…well, to be honest I couldn't imagine a situation where you might forgive me."

"And what changed? What makes you think I am less angry and hurt than Liam?"

"I suppose a bit of hope. It sounds quite mad actually, but here in our therapy there are all these sessions. Individual ones. Group ones. And in one of the group ones we each selected a song we had heard that meant something to us. And one of the women in the group selected a son by the woman you shared the duet with…Elsa. It was a lovely tune and I could see why it would inspire her so. In her efforts to explain the song's meaning we were looking up information and found the song that you had written. I realized that it was you."

Emma felt her jaw go a bit slack at that revelation. "You found his song?" she asked. "That's…"

"I didn't know what to do with that information. I had promised not to contact you, agreeing with your brother that it was too much to ask that you might forgive me. But the words of devotion, love, forgiveness, and acceptance were strong. And I continued to hope, Killian. I continued to hope that maybe there was a chance."

It was clear that Killian wasn't sure what to make of his father's claims, keeping his face neutral as Emma seemed more worried over the revelation. He crossed his right arm over his body and smoothed his palm down her arm. "And so you decided…"

"I suppose it is daft, but I decided to view your visit to New York and interview as a sign. I asked my program sponsor to get the number of the studio and soon found where you were staying. I left the rest up to you." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "I see now that you have other reasons for being here. You mentioned your younger brother."

Killian gave a brief and vague description of the events as of late, noting that the younger man had been seen only on video. "You are saying you know nothing about it?"

"Of course I didn't. I wouldn't condone that as a way for my sons to behave, especially with each other. I said before that he had told me he was going back to London. I…I can contact him. See if I might…"

Killian scoffed, his grip on Emma's arm stronger as his father flailed a bit under the pressure of the question. "You're going to what? Ground him? Make him do some menial penance?"

It was Brennan's turn to look annoyed as he again studied the clicking wall clock. "I'm not sure what you were expecting me to do. My sons are all grown men. I can't really…" He placed his hands in a prayer like sign on either side of his nose and breathed in deeply. "In this place they teach a lot of things, especially about human nature. And one of those lessons is that we can't always or ever change people's behavior, only our own reaction to it. I will do my best, Killian, but I can't perform miracles.