David lurched with the effort to control the game's racecar, nearly falling off the small sofa in the loft's living room and making his wife laugh at his antics. "I seem to be going backwards," he shouted, turning the plastic wheel holding the controller. He shot Mary Margaret a pained expression and then looked back to the screen. "It's not easy!"

"Henry seems to be having no problem at all," she shot back, folding her hands over her more than ever noticeable baby bump. "I think it might be that you're too old."

The teenager laughed, expertly weaving his vehicle through the crowded course on his half of the screen. "You just need practice."

"Maybe by the time the baby arrives I'll be an expert."

There was a short laugh from Henry. "More likely the games will have changed and improved by then. This one will be outdated and not played any longer."

David groaned loudly as the news of his defeat flashed on screen and Henry gave a little fist pump of victory. "Maybe you can come over and play games with the baby. I don't think I'm cut out for this. I'll stick to driving my truck through the streets of Storybrooke."

Mimicking David's relaxed pose with his legs crossed at his ankles, Henry smiled brightly. "It took Killian a while to catch on too," he said consolingly. "But he's good now. Not as good as mom at it, but he doesn't end up in last place."

Mary Margaret stood and moved toward the kitchen. "I'm sure he gets lost of practice with you around. You have been playing a while yourself. Now on to more important things. Who wants a snack? I was thinking some popcorn or maybe cupcakes? What do you think, Henry?"

The teenager glanced at the screen where his victory was still being displayed and smiled. "Can we have popcorn like my mom makes it? With Milk Duds melted inside it?"

Mary Margaret made a noise like she might protest, but David interrupted with his own opinion. "You know, that doesn't sound bad. I'm not sure we've got the candy though. I can run get some. What do you say, Henry? Want to ride along?"

"Can I drive?"

"Not a chance, but you can ride shot gun," he said, grabbing both their jackets and throwing Henry's to him. "Come on. Your mom will be calling soon. We better be back for that or Mary Margaret will have our heads. Then neither one of us will be playing or winning at video games any time soon."

***AAA***

Emma unintentionally laced her hands together in front of her as the doctor spoke to Killian. It was all very clinical and from what Emma could hear and understand, not at all hopeful. Brennan would need a liver transplant soon, the years of drinking had taken their toll on his body. The younger Liam had not been a good enough match and the older Liam had refused to even consider being tested.

While she paid attention to the conversation, her eyes scanned over Brennan Jones for the first time without distraction. She could tell that he had once been a very handsome man, rugged and almost dangerous looking with his steely gaze that both Killian and Liam had inherited. His long fingers seemed to tap out an unknown rhythm while he waited to speak, not out of nervousness but some other need that stirred within him. And while he was clearly not the world's greatest father or even close, he did look at Killian with a measure of pride that was evident even to her. His lanky and willowy frame was unlike his two sons who both kept up a muscular tone. Its lack of strength was probably due more to his drinking and liver condition than any diet or regiment.

"There are lists though?" Killian asked, not yet looking at his father or Emma there in the room that felt all of a sudden too small. "Surely there is someone…"

"Mr. Jones would have to be sober for at least 12 months before he could be considered for one of those lists. He may not have that long." The doctor looked at him over the rims of his glasses that seemed to forever slide down his face. "A family match would probably be the best bet at this point. There would be less chance at rejection and not system to process this through." He pushed the glasses up again. "I do understand that there are some family dynamics that mean it could be a bit tricky. That is always a consideration too."

Killian swallowed hard, placing his thumb and forefinger on opposite sides of his forehead. "Is that why you called?" he asked his father. "You decided to contact me because the other two can't or won't do this."

"No," Brennan said vehemently. "I swore I would not put you in that position. I simply wanted to talk to you, tell you how sorry I am. I wanted to know that you are okay. I needed that."

Emma reached out and touched his sleeve, tugging him back to his seated position. "Maybe I should step out," she said softly, giving his forearm a squeeze. "This really is a family thing."

"No," Killian said, finally looking toward his father. "He's said his apologies. I have heard them. I'm not sure there is more to say."

The doctor shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his silver clipboard waving a bit as he did. "Mr. Jones, Killian, I know this is difficult. Family situations often are, especially in cases where there has been alcoholism and whatnot. I do understand that."

"If he doesn't get the transplant, what will happen? How much longer…" Killian seemed not able to say his father's name or even refer to him in anything other than pronouns. It wasn't that hard for Emma to pick up on and her heart ached for him.

"Killian, I didn't ask you to come here for any reason other than to let me apologize and see if we might be able to talk and come to some sort of understanding. It would not be right for me to ask you to go against your brother's wishes and consent to a transplant." Brennan's voice had the same melodic quality of the older two Jones brothers, soft and firm with a hint of music in it. "I wanted to see you again, wanted to say how very sorry I am for not being the father you deserved and needed."

The doctor again shifted, looking quite uncomfortable. However, Killian would not let up on the question he asked. "We're talking a few months at most. Probably two. He's a good candidate for a transplant from a related donor. I see no complications such as rejection, but there are no guarantees."

"And the person donating? Would there be any dangers in that?" Emma's eyes shifted from her stealthy study of his father straight to Killian, wondering if he was truly considering such a thing.

"There are dangers with any surgery," the doctor said humorlessly, "but the donation of a portion of the liver is one of the easiest and least complicated transplants today. Recovery would take a few weeks, but there are few issues for donors when you look at other options."

Brennan leaned forward, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. "Killian, do you possibly mean…"

"I was simply questioning the doctor on what we need to know. For all I know you made up all this transplant nonsense simply to lure me here. You've claimed you don't wish to ask me to be a donor, but you showed no qualms about asking Liam. That seems a bit odd to me."

"I assure you that I mean nothing more than to apologize and see if we might repair our relationship." Brennan's voice shook with emotion as he observed at his son's tense shoulders and cold stare at absolutely nothing. "I can see you don't believe that."

"Why should I?" Killian asked, as the doctor stood and began to make an excuse about needing to leave. It didn't escape Emma's attention that the man had come in on a Sunday to have this conversation, stressing the dire nature of the situation. "You talk about this relationship that needs repair, but I don't remember such a relationship. You were absent as a father before you ever walked out. You made our lives miserable."

To his credit Brennan had endured every question and accusation without anger or emotional displays. He was not stoic, but he'd remained in control. "I didn't realize you remember it that way."

"There is nothing else or any other way to remember it," Killian said, rocking backwards. "Let's see about this blood test. Not because I owe you anything, but because I don't want to be left with the guilt of what could have been."

"Killian," Emma said not warningly but with concern. "It's a big step. Maybe we should look at alternative treatments or…I mean surgery…"

Licking his lips, he gave her a nod and then turned his attention to the slowly retreating doctor. "If I have this blood test, that's not a promise, correct? I am just seeing if I might be a suitable match?"

Clearing his throat, the older man followed up those questions with an affirmation. "It is quite minor of a test, simply a blood draw. We would then analyze it. Given that it's Sunday and the start of a holiday week, I'm assuming the results would be back in a day or two if the labs aren't backed up."

"Very well. Let's do this."

***AAA***

Liam had walked Robin, Regina, and Roland to their car and waved them off with a forced smile. He had to admit that while his brother's home was comfortable, it felt odd to stay there without him and odder still to know where Killian was at that moment.

"We survived?" he asked teasingly as he took the spot next to Elsa to clean up the few dishes from their lunch and late afternoon snack. As much as he had hoped that Regina being there in a social setting might provide Elsa a calmer view of her boss, the woman did not seem to have a casual mode. Every question she asked seemed to be a probing attempt at gathering intel rather than idle curiosity. Even her demeanor was rather formal with the others in jeans, flannel shirts, or sweaters and Regina in a tight skirt and blouse with uncomfortably high heels.

"Robin seems to think he is getting somewhere with the condo board," she said, ignoring the question and stepping to the side to load the dishwasher. "It would be good to get back there, especially before the holidays."

"Aye, I'm rather anxious myself." He tightened his grip on the plate that almost slipped from his hands under the water. For a few minutes they worked in silence, both concentrating on the task at hand. "You're disappointed in me, aren't you?"

Standing up straight and wiping her hands on the nearby towel, she shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know that disappointed is the right word. I guess I don't understand. You're rightfully angry with your father. The man abandoned you and your brother. I get that."

"But?"

"Liam, I know what it's like to lose your parents when there are things left unsaid." She bushed her hands again on the towel. "Are you sure that you want to face that?"

He rocked backwards, seeing both the hurt in her eyes and his own concern reflected back. He hated that she had such thoughts of her parents, as he could not imagine anyone not adoring her. Surely her parents had been proud of the beautiful, headstrong, talented daughter they had raised. He could only hope that one day she would see that. "Darling, I've been facing that. There are many imagined conversations and fights that I know will never come to pass. Perhaps one day I will stop thinking in those terms."

"Not today?"

"No, Elsa, not today." He threw his arms out, nearly displacing the spice display that sat between the sink and stove. "Come here."

She flew into his embrace, burying her nose in the softness of the shirt he wore. "I'm sorry, Liam."

"Whatever for?"

"I shouldn't have pushed you. I shouldn't have made you or tried to make you feel guilty. I guess I didn't understand. I would give anything to have a conversation with my parents. And I kept thinking about that. As much as our relationship was strained, it was never an issue of abandonment. And I suppose I projected."

Both of his hands, still damp and smelling of the apple scented dish soap, framed her face as he pulled her up from his chest. Meeting her eyes, he smiled. Not one of his mischievous or roguish sorts of grins, but a genuine smile that curled up. "I love that you want the best for me. I only want that for you too."

***AAA***

Emma pressed her foot on the gas of the rental car and threw the turn signal on moments before passing the slower moving car in front of them. While the drive to the facility had been more relaxed and lazy with side stops at diners and country stores, she and Killian both felt the urgent need to get home to Henry and their little house by the ocean.

"It looks as though the lad had a fine time," he remarked, running his thumb over her phone screen.

"Either that or he was so insanely bored that he took a selfie with every tree in the woods," she laughed, settling back into a normal speed. "But you're right. His smile shows he had fun."

"Perhaps we should look at maybe going to that rock climbing wall. It might be a good little excursion." He slipped the phone into the cup holder on the console between them, sinking back into the seat. The miles that she was putting between them and his father had already seemed to relax him a little, though he was still noticeably tense. "Or in the spring we could see about renting a canoe."

"He'd love that." Even in the dimming light she could see his fingers go to the crook of his elbow, touching through the soft gray sweater gingerly. "You know that it might not work out, right? I mean there are a thousand and one reasons you might not be a good donor."

"Are you telling me that I don't need to prepare my excuses just yet," he said, a tight laugh bubbling out. "I suppose you are right about that, love. But the fact they opened the lab up on a Sunday is quite telling. They are assuming I will be the donor for him."

"Still doesn't mean you have to do it." She reached her hand over and placed it atop of his. "Remember what we said. We'll gather all the facts and make a decision when necessary."

"I know," he said, closing his eyes momentarily. "I just fear that if no one else will do this, it is left to me. How do I make the decision of whether or not to save my father's life? Despite what he and his decisions have done and how horrific a situation he created, he's still a human being. If I have it in my power to save someone's life, including a detestable man such as Brennan Jones, can I truly say no?"

The curve in the road ahead meant she had to put her hands both on the wheel. "I don't know the answer to that either. I think you have to do what feels right for you. And you don't worry about what everyone wants or thinks. You're already the most generous and loving man I know. Whatever you decide here isn't going to change that."

"Perhaps I should hope not to be a match," he said with a chuckle. "It would things much easier." Clearing his throat, he lifted his hand and shifted in his seat, indicating a change of subject. "So with our plans for a London holiday off the table and Henry's new pup needing attention for a few weeks, what do you say we start working on our honeymoon plans?"

She scrunched her nose, pressing her foot down on the gas a bit harder. "I'm not anti-honeymoon, but I hate all the planning. Can't we just get in your boat and sail away for a few weeks. You know, go wherever the wind and the waves take us?"

"That's a brilliant idea, love," he said cheerily. "I wouldn't mind that a bit. Perhaps hit a few of the smaller ports that we've neither one ever seen? Anything else for the itinerary? Any special events you wish to see? Any tourist traps?"

Her face relaxed and she smiled through the glass windshield. "Nope. I plan on lots of time alone with you. I wouldn't mind if we didn't see another soul for as long as we're away. Think we can handle all that togetherness?"

He hummed as he pretended to think. "It might be a bit much, but I'm game if you are, Swan. Perhaps we could set some ground rules. No clothes strewn about the cabin? No talking with our mouths full?"

"Those are good. Maybe we should just outlaw clothes all together? I mean I know you hate finding various articles of clothing just piled on the floor."

"Might make things more interesting. We'd have to add a few stipulations to that. Perhaps a requirement of time in bed? It is our honeymoon after all."

They made up a couple of dozen or so other rules each more ridiculous than the last. She requested pop tarts on board and he was more about activities. While some were risqué, others were sweet and loving, earning a kiss to the hand or cheek of the promise of picking the next song on the rental car's stereo. They were both laughing at the absurdity of it all when Emma's phone bleeped with a call.

"Answer it, will you?" Emma asked as the squinted at the road signs ahead warning of another interstate merge she had to figure out in the waning light. "Or just let it go to voicemail."

He chose to answer it upon recognizing Elsa's number and picture on the screen. "Hello there," he answered, hoping he sounded normal enough. He didn't want the woman, or anyone really, to think that his visit with Brennan had caused any strife or damage to his psyche. There was enough drama with the situation with the younger Liam to suffice without bringing up old hurts that might derail any of them from moving forward.

"Wow, just the man I wanted to talk to today," Elsa said, sounding forced. "Regina came by with Robin and Roland. She's sort of digging in about us recording together again. I told her you weren't interested, but she's…well, she's Regina. I don't mind witnessing her dramatic tirades, but this is harder. She said she'd call you personally. I wanted to give you a head's up.

"I appreciate that. The woman is a bit stubborn."

"A bit?" Elsa cackled at the comparison in her head. "I have met brick walls with more flexibility. So anyway. Consider yourself warned and continue to screen."

"Hey, I answered your call, didn't I?"

He could imagine the icy blonde pursing her lips and tapping a delicate finger distractedly on the table. "Yes, but I called Emma's number. Your phone's off. I knew she'd keep hers charged up for Henry to be able to reach her."

"I didn't realize…" He reached into the pocket of his jacket, placing the phone in the palm of his prosthetic. "Oh. I had it off because we were at that facility. I didn't turn it back on. Liam wasn't trying…"

"No, he's been dealing with some things around here. He's in a good place though. Or at least getting there."

He thanked her and ended the call, dropping both phones into the cup holder. Staring down at the fake hand, he sighed. "My father didn't seem to notice did he?"

"Notice what?" Emma asked, again making a move to pass a slower moving car. She missed his pained expression as she checked for other cars in the side mirror. "I think he was pretty much aware that you weren't really there to thank him or kiss his feet."

"My hand. He didn't even notice I lost my hand." The fingers of the prosthetic hand were perfectly shaped, but he could not feel or use them like a natural hand. It was just ornamental and without true value other than to make others more comfortable with his disability.

Emma slowed the car back to the speed limit again, casting a quick glance over at him. "He didn't say anything about it, but maybe…"

"It doesn't truly matter. I gave him no opening for such a moment. And it is not as though I told him that I didn't have but one. I just…I would have assumed that he would have noticed. Wouldn't you have noticed if something about Henry was different than it should be? Of course you would. You love your son and want only good for him."

"Maybe he didn't notice, but…well, I think that's just another strike against him. I may not always think of you as only having one hand, but that's for good reasons. You're amazing. You do things that I think you shouldn't be able to do. I'm always in awe of that, but at the same time…I sort of take that for granted. He should be proud of you and how you've rebuilt your life after the accident. That's what a parent would do." She reached over and touched where the nylon and spandex of the hand's braced wrapped around his blunted wrist. "Killian, I know it's not the same as a parent loving you, but you are loved. I love you. Liam loves you. Henry is crazy about you. You have friends, family, and so many people in your life. If you want to help your father, then we'll stand by you. If you don't, I doubt that anyone who truly loves you will blame you."

He shot her a sort of half smile. "I preferred when we were discussing plans for the honeymoon. Perhaps that is more appropriate until we know if I'm a good match."

She placed her right hand back on the wheel. "You know. I'm looking forward to that. No matter where we go, I'm going to get to relax and wake up to you every day. No responsibilities, no worries. Other than Henry, I don't plan to talk to another soul besides my husband."

"I quite like that idea myself." Even in the cramped space of the passenger side of the car, he stretched out like a cat. "We haven't discussed it much, but what about after the wedding. Where do you see us?"

Her jaw went slack for a moment. "You already sprung on me that we need a minivan or SUV, which I still haven't forgiven you for by the way. And now you're mentioning moving?"

"No," he answered hastily. "I meant more figuratively than literally. I suppose we've chatted enough about my future plans what with Mary Margaret wanting to open our own sort of school. And we've decided to look at adopting or fostering children, which I must say is one of your more brilliant ideas, love. And we know that we are more likely than not going to have a new canine join our little family. Plus relatively soon we'll get Elsa and Liam back to their condo. Henry's going to continue being busy with all his activities and high school soon enough. So I'm thinking we're all set with future plans except for you. What is it that you plan for the future?"

She snuck a look at both the side and rearview mirrors, her shoulders raising tensely as she continued on with the drive. "I guess I just assumed I'd keep doing what I'm doing now."

He made a low humming as he considered that. "I noticed that you seem to enjoy the recording process quite a bit. Perhaps that is something you should consider. You were helpful to Elsa and her sister. And several of the crew said you had fantastic timing and suggestions. It would mean less time on the road and more in the studio, but I think you might prefer that." He didn't meet her eyes, not sure if she would take the suggestion well.

"I don't know," she finally admitted. "I don't know that Regina would like that idea too much. She's pretty much convinced that my skills are better used finding talent and managing their time. I'm not so sure she'd want me on the creative end." She breathed out heavily. "But you're right. That does sound nice after all these years of bars and clubs where the acts are very rarely what they portray themselves online. And I have all these ideas for cutting new songs."

"You'd be magnificent," he said, pulling her right hand from the wheel back to his mouth and kissing the back of it softly. "You know, if my brother or whoever broke into the garage hasn't destroyed it, there is an upstairs to that building. With a bit of renovation we could turn it into a proper studio. You wouldn't have to work for Regina."

Her jaw once again fell and her eyes grew wide. "I'm not sure which I'm more surprised about," she said with a terse laugh. "Are you actually suggesting we both quit our jobs and venture out on our own? Isn't that a little risky?"

"It isn't that much of a risk for you. Elsa and Anna would surely sign with you, as would my brother and his gang of miscreants. And there are bound to be others. I'm not saying start a label and compete with Regina. I'm just suggesting that you start a production venture. You could still work with many of the same clients and artists."

"And you?"

"I'll be busy at whatever we name this bloody school of Mary Margaret's, teaching music and recruiting students apparently. Who knows? I may have to woo you a bit more to get Henry enrolled." He chuckled at the idea of having to persuade his own fiancé for such a favor. "Though I might out to concentrate on ones we would actually charge tuition."

"You know he'd kill me if he couldn't go there. But I was thinking more along the lines of your music. I know. I know. You don't want to do it as profession, but maybe you could write some stuff that we could sell to other artists. So many don't write their own songs these days. You'd make a fortune doing it."

"Emma," he said, breathing in through his nose. "I don't wish to have a career like that. It is one thing to write for our friends' wedding. Perhaps I might pen something for our own. I don't even truly mind helping Elsa as it is. But I truly don't wish to make it a habit or a career." He frowned. "I just hope that I have not disappointed you."

"You aren't disappointing me. I'm really proud of what you've done. And if you don't want to do it, I won't push. I just…" She curled her fingers tighter around the steering wheel. "Have you been doing this because of me? Just because of me?"

"Emma, I…"

"Damn it, Killian. You did all this crap that you didn't even want to do because I asked you to do it?"

"Emma, that's not such a bad thing. And it isn't as though you forced me to do it."

"But you wouldn't have done it if I hadn't asked. Is that what you are saying?"

His eyes were locked on the road ahead, but from the corner of her eyes she could see him clench his jaw and his nostrils flare slightly. "I gave up my designs on becoming a musician many years ago, Emma. And I hardly think that your inspiring me to do more with it is a bad thing. You didn't force me or even manipulate me. It was simply…"

"You are a horrible liar, Killian. I guess I was so caught up in my job and wanting to please the investors, the producers, Regina, Elsa, and everyone that I didn't realize. You must be pissed at me every time I asked you to do just one more thing. Why didn't you say something? Why would you do this stuff if it was making you miserable?" She could feel her stomach tighten with the threat of shedding tears, feeling both guilty and frustrated for her role in all this. "And your father. Your father found you and contacted you because of this. Damn it, Killian. I am sorry. I'm so sorry. I should never have made you do any of it."

"Love, you have done nothing so unforgivable. My father tracking me down simply because of this interview yesterday is a bit of a fluke. While, I feel vindicated that I was right to lead a more private life, it is highly likely he would have tracked me down anyway. I am not sure anything would have prevented it. So if by doing the song and the interview, well, I conquered some fears and in some way helped you in your career, then I am happy to have done so."

"You know you're one of the bravest guys I know, right?" Emma asked, blinking against the headlights of cars on the other side of the interstate and her unshed tears. "But we're in this together. It isn't selfish to say no to me. I won't break. So here's the deal, Killian. You speak up and tell me that you don't want something or like something. And I will stop trying to convince you of things when you do say no. Anna and Elsa are talented enough to do this without you. I don't want you to resent me or feel trapped."

"Never, my love, never. And I'm not saying I'm putting away the writing pen forever. Perhaps there is a song in me about you. Something we could share together on our wedding day?"

***AAA***

"I think they're here," Elsa said from her spot on the couch where she was reading one of her favorite classics that Killian just happened to keep on the shelf. Wrapped up in the story, she had not even noticed Liam's dozing until he had let his head drop to her lap. He had just come in from a few tasks at the Rabbit Hole himself, smelling faintly of the old leather and wood stain. Holding the book in one hand and letting the other comb through his thick curling hair, she had been comfortable and content there in front of the silent television and dark fire place.

Liam blinked drowsily at her. "What?"

"Emma and Killian. A car just pulled in. The jeep I think." She gave his shoulder a little slap. "Come on. Let's go help them get their stuff inside."

He stretched his arms over his head and reached for her clumsily, pulling her down for a kiss and then again. "Very well. I'll carry the heavy stuff and you fawn over their little adventure like you didn't just see them yesterday."

She rolled her eyes. "You do realize you're going to have to explain the condition of the garage to your brother?"

"You sure you don't want to do that, darling? He likes you better than he likes me." To prove his sincerity, he protruded out his lip dramatically. "Please?"

She pretended to mull it over before slipping out from under him and sending his head to bounce on the couch cushions. "Nope. We'll do it together. Come on." She carefully placed the book on the end table and then offered him a hand with a warning look not to pull her back down.

"A man should not be frightened of his younger brother."

"You're scared of Killian?" she asked tossing him his jacket and then heading to the door without hers. "Seriously?"

"I'm not frightened, darling. You just don't realize how anal he can be about things. And the fact that I didn't know where the electrical tape should go when I went to clean up the mess will probably bite me in the arse."

The cool fall air swooped in as she held the door open with her hip. "That's a shame. I like you ass. I'd hate for a chunk to get bitten out of it." She did not wait for an answer, darting out and helping Emma guide the sleepy yet walking Henry back to the house.

"Thanks," Emma said, nudging her son. "According to Mary Margaret he's been gorging on junk food and sort of crashed about an hour ago." She grabbed hold of his shoulder again as he appeared to head toward the cellar doors rather than where Liam and Killian would bring the luggage. "I think he's had quite a weekend."

Elsa laughed, placing her hand on the center of his back and guiding him. "Up one step," she coaxed. "And another."

Both women were out of earshot when Liam threw one of the duffle bags that Henry had packed over his shoulder. "So you saw him?" he asked, squinting into the darkness at Killian. "I mean…"

"Aye, he's in a rehab facility." Killian offered no more than that, peering around the disorganized contents of the garage. "Want to tell me what happened here?"

Liam made a face and dragged his toe on the concrete floor. "So someone broke in. I didn't see anything missing, but filed a report. Robin came over and installed some automatic lights and a buzzer if someone enters without the opener." He shifted his weight with the bags. "Did he look sick?"

"Older, thinner, sort of pale…Any idea who did it or are we assuming our younger brother?"

"Graham said we should probably assume our brother," Liam said with frown. "Brennan give you any…"

"He's dying, Liam. He wasn't there asking how we were or what we were about all these years. He is still a selfish bastard who simply can't be bothered to anything but ask us to support him once again. I can't say you were wrong to refuse before." He took two steps in the direction of the house. "He said he hadn't seen him in a while. Said he would try and reach him. I wouldn't count on it." Killian took a few more steps before turning around and facing his brother. "I gave some blood to be tested. I don't know if I will agree but thought I should know my options."

Liam gave a curt nod. "You'll do the right thing. You always do these days."

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean? You are acting as though I did something wrong here. If I did, I'd appreciate an answer as to what. Either that or you can sod off."

"It was an observation," Liam said, taking a few steps of his own and then stopping before he reached his brother. "You didn't always do the right thing, you know. I worried about you, thought you would end up in prison or at least sued by the time you were 25. That night I got the call about your accident. I thought I had underestimated you. I thought you were going to die." He shook his head as if to dislodge that thought. "I thought that I had done a poor job in raising you. But I guess…you changed. You weren't looking for the easy way out. You went to school, started teaching, bought a house, and…well…sometimes I forget that you're supposed to be my little brother."

"So you're saying that I'm an incredible bore and that's why…what? I don't understand."

"You weren't always so unselfish, brother. After mum died and we were alone, I wondered how I was going to get you to be man. I didn't know how to deal with you. I barely knew how I was going to get by myself." The strap of the larger bag slid on his broad shoulder. He yanked on it harder than he should. "I prayed that I might know what to say to you. You were finishing high school and I wished for you to join me in the navy. You didn't want that. You wanted university, parties, and fun. I couldn't afford those things and our father was not willing to even return our calls."

Impatiently, Killian shifted from one foot to the other. "I know what a bastard he was, brother. I don't have any designs on him being anything but one."

"No, but without my help or guidance, you somehow became a man who gives. I didn't understand it at first. I do now. You give and give because you don't think someone will love you unless you do. You don't trust that you're enough. Even with Emma. God knows she fancies you more than any woman ever has. She has agreed to marry your sorry arse, but you somehow doubt her love. So you twist yourself and turn yourself into everything she could ever want so she won't leave." Liam swallowed hard, sensing his brother's surprise would not last long. "I do the same with Elsa. We both do this. We don't trust that anyone can love us and not leave."

Killian scoffed, turning on the heel of his boot. "I don't think you earned a degree in psychology, brother."

"Perhaps not," Liam called after him. "But you know I'm right. Brennan Jones won't love you more if you donate a portion of your liver to him. He'll say he does. He'll make promises and paint rosy pictures of sitting in the front row at your wedding. But he won't be there. Killian, he's not a father in the real sense. He won't ever be won over by anything you or I do. So you can put yourself through all sorts of torture proving that you're a better man, but it was never a contest. And it won't win you a bloody thing other than a scar from surgery and a bitterness that he still won't ever see what he did as wrong."

Killian didn't turn back to face his brother, but he made no move toward the house either. In the dim light from the house he could see Elsa's guard sitting in a parked car and probably wondering why they were still out there. In a few minutes Elsa and Emma would come looking for them. They would want to know where they were and what was taking so long. "He couldn't give me an answer," he said softly. "I waited to hear it. I wanted to hear why. He said he was sorry. Said he was wrong."

Not missing a beat, Liam nodded into the darkness. "I know, brother. Every child wants a mother and father who love them. We didn't get that. We had a lovely and brilliant mother, but our father…he wasn't there. And no amount of wishing will change that. But our lives aren't so bad. We did okay without him."

"Aye, we did." Killian turned back slowly. "If I am so lucky as to become a father, I don't want to be like him Liam. I want to be a better man."

Closing the few steps between them, Liam embraced his brother. "You are a better man. And maybe I haven't said it because I don't always say the right thing. I'm proud of you."